Kiss Me, I'm Undead

by Tasha L Driver

  “So, these doctors...they have any ideas that could help you?”

  I rolled my eyes. “It was the free clinic. Not Rush Medical.” I contemplated how much to say, then gave up and blurted, “They said my blood pressure is super low and so is my pulse. My heart is barely beating. My O-something level is non-existent and, well, I’m ‘pretty much dead’. That wasn’t the official diagnosis, of course, but—”

  Freddie burst out laughing. If I knew exactly what a guffaw sounded like, that was probably it. It made me feel dumb and vulnerable, and I wanted to cry. I was crying too much these days.

  He stopped laughing abruptly and stepped closer, fully invading my space. Freddie grabbed my chin, firmly but with care, tilted his head and kissed me. This time, there was no reluctance on my part. I opened for him, allowing him all the access he wanted and I...needed. He ended a full perusal with a slight nip of my bottom lip, but he didn’t pull away. He stared deep into my eyes. I felt moisture gather in them and prayed tears did not fall in front of this man.

  “You, my darling, are the most beautiful dead girl in the world.”

  I didn’t know if it was the completely incomprehensible statement, the sincerity in his voice, or just the week I’d been having, but the tears fell, and with them came laughter. Joyful laughter that I hadn’t allowed myself to let out in so long. “Fine. I guess your little joke worked to cheer me up. Good job, Hammerdick.”

  Freddie stepped back and pursed his lips. Gawd, he hated that nickname. It pretty much guaranteed that I would always call him that.

  “I didn’t mean that to sound like a joke.”

  “It’s fine. I really did need the laugh.” Without really thinking about it, I grabbed his hand. “Walk me a few feet to my door, will you?”

  He did as I asked but with a sly grin. “You just want a repeat of the things I do to you at your door.”

  “Mmmm...maybe.” I was attempting to be flirtatious, but his face suddenly became serious.

  “What did they tell you?”

  “Hmm?”

  He cleared his throat. “What did they tell you to help you get better?”

  “Oh.” He was concerned and it was kind of cute. “Dr. Evans just told me to drink lots of fluids. They already gave me a few I.V. bags—”

  “Explains the smell...”

  “— and she said I just needed to rest and eat when I can.”

  He nodded. “Yes, eat. You will feel much better after you eat someone.”

  “Something.” I made a show of fake-gagging. “Jeez, Hammerdick. Get a German to English dictionary or something. Those slip-ups of yours are so weird.”

  “Kayla, I—” A phone rang loudly. It was a digitized tune of Heartbreak Hotel.

  I pulled mine out of my purse. Jillesa. “Hey, I gotta go take this. Thanks for cheering me up.” I gave him a quick peck and turned to unlock my door. He stayed behind me and didn’t walk away when I went inside. He probably really did expect sex, but this phone call was important. Besides, we weren’t actually dating. Making out in the hall didn’t mean he was getting in my panties.

  Frank's Got the Connects.

  I answered my cellphone with a, “Hey, girl!” as I shut the door in Freddie’s pensive face.

  “Whaddup, sis!” Jillesa sounded joyful. I could also tell she was in a car and that rap music was playing on the radio. Since she only listened to R&B and, sometimes, Gospel, I was immediately curious.

  “Where are you?” I asked.

  “On my way to your place.” Shit. I didn’t really feel like company. “Frank has some intel for you.” She turned her face from the phone and asked, “That’s what they say in the spy and detective movies, right? Intel?...This is actually a little fun.”

  So that explained the Rap, she was riding with Frank. Hmmm...not into him my ass. But what bothered me was, “He’s talked to the Puerto Ricans already? That was quick.”

  “Yeah. I went with him for moral support. Figured it was best to get it out of the way as soon as possible.”

  That wasn’t bad thinking, but wow. “I guess I’ll talk to you both in a few then.”

  She confirmed, “Give us ten, sis,” and hung up.

  I spent about three of those minutes doing a quick straightening up of my apartment. There wasn’t enough that I owned to need more. Then I took some time to relax and gather myself from the day. I got a full seventeen minutes before the buzzer rang. She was horrible with time.

  I walked to my apartment door and opened it up as I pushed the button that unlocked the security door. Jill breezed in and right past me carrying a satchel. “Sorry, I got to use your bathroom to get ready,” I heard before she slammed the door closed to that very room.

  I turned to a much slower paced Frank and plastered on my quizzical face.

  “We’re going out after we leave here.”

  That was date-y sounding. “Really? Where?”

  “You probably wouldn’t know it.” Duh. “It’s called El Centro.”

  I felt like shit, but maybe what I needed was a night of fun for a change, so I tried. “Sounds fun. Can I join you, or is it a date thing?”

  He gave me a grossed-out face. “Date? Jillesa and I are not dating.” Coulda fooled me... “And, sorry, but it’s not your type of place.”

  I’d gotten used to that statement. “No Whites allowed, huh?”

  “No, it’s not that. I mean, they only play Latin music like Salsa, Bachata, and Reggaeton and stuff. Everyone speaks Spanish there. Jillesa can get away with it because she looks like me, a dark-skinned Boricua Moreno. But you wouldn’t like being around a bunch of Latinos all night.” The guilt that I still hadn’t fully explained my past ate at me. Being around a bunch of Latinos all the time was basically my life not too long ago.

  “Besides,” he continued. “It’s a mafia club. Pretty White girls like you that go in there will be pounced on. Lured into the sex-trade ring.”

  I scoffed. “You think I can’t handle myself?” Before he could answer, I waved my hand. “Nevermind. Sit down.” I pointed to my couch. “Want some water? Always hydrate before, during, and after a night of drinking.”

  “You sound like my mama,” he huffed as he let his tall body fall onto my too-low couch.

  I smiled as I poured him a glass from the tap. “Where do you think I get it from.” I handed him the drink and sat next to him. We were silent for several moments. Neither knowing what to say.

  “A few more days,” Frank spoke out of the blue.

  “Huh?”

  “They’re keeping her a few more days. She’s not healing like they’d like her to. She can’t get up and out of the bed. It hurts too much. So now she has blood clots.”

  Damn. “The pain meds aren’t working anymore?”

  Frank chuffed, “They took her off of them on the second day. Now she gets Ibuprofen every four hours.”

  “Are you kidding? Of course she can’t move. Why’d they do that?”

  The side-eye he gave me reminded me of a story I’d read on Facebook once. It was posted by a nurse, a White woman, who had to fight to give her patient pain meds. The doctors refused to sign off on any. I won’t lie, privilege is real, and I’m glad I have it. “I’m so sorry, Frank. I wish to God there was something I could do.” He just shrugged. He knew as well as I did that there wasn’t anything I could do.

  Time to change the subject to something not any more uplifting. “So, uh, Jill said you had some stuff to talk about.”

  Not surprisingly, Frank looked relieved to talk about something other than his mother’s deteriorating health due to my fuck up. “Yeah, well, I didn’t get too much out of who I talked to, but I think what I was told has to do with your situation anyway. Maybe.”

  I sat straighter. This was it. “What did he tell you?”

  “That there is a new player in town, and they’re busting their asses to keep him under control.”

  “They? The Puerto Ricans?”

  Frank tsked. “Not just my people.
..” Whoa. I internally cringed at that interesting use of words. “...the allies too. The Italians and Russians. Even the little mafiosos, like the Ukrainians and folks we’re not affiliated with at all, like the Chinese and such.”

  “All of them are worried about this guy? Why?” Please, dear Lord don’t let it be Jorge. It sounds too much like Jorge. If he’s actually here...

  “The dude’s up to typical cartel shit. Drugs. Sex. He’s got some huge connection in L.A. The problem is that he didn’t come here under the proper channels. The mafiosos don’t give a fuck what you do as long as you meet with them, for admittance with respect, and stay away from where they tell you to.”

  I was genuinely taken aback. “That sounds very cordial for people who are supposed to be so bad.”

  “Things have changed a lot. Mafia is run like business corporations rather than gangs. They expect you to be professional at all times. That’s why they don’t like these young cartels. The old capos are dead or in prison, and these jovenes that took over are wild animals. They want to kill, kill, kill. And they don’t have respect for anyone.”

  Sounds about right.

  “Like this guy from L.A.? He’s in the sex trafficking game, but he fucks with kids, too. Old mafia don’t like that. You never sell or harm anyone under sixteen or seventeen. Even that is pushing it.”

  “I saw a twelve-year-old boy shot in the head in front of his father for refusing to be a runner.” I had gone to that dark place in my mind where I’d hidden all the things I’ve seen. It took a while to realize that Frank was staring at me with his mouth agape. “Shit, Frank. Don’t hold that against me.”

  “You didn’t do it did you?”

  “Hell no!”

  “Then why would I hold you responsible for something you witnessed and had no control over?”

  The DEA did. “I just...I don’t know.”

  Frank pulled me into a huge bear hug. He murmured in my ear, “I’ve been figuring you’ve seen things. Waiting for when you feel it’s okay to tell me. But you’re not at fault, you hear me? Someone fucked you up. Still is. And you are the victim.”

  “Do. Not. Make. Me. Cry.” We both chuckled lightly at my fake attempt to be threatening.

  Before letting me go, he whispered, “I’ve got you. Not matter what, I got you.”

  I sighed. “So, what is going to happen with this guy?”

  “I don’t know. They’re all working on it. Most want to just cap the fuck outta him, but who knows what shit will rain down from L.A. No one really knows much about this cartel.”

  Just then, Jill came out of the bathroom, fully made up and wearing a black bralette and shorts printed with hot pink tropical flowers that, on her curvy figure, did not look like actual shorts. I thought she looked hot as fuck, and I wished I could pull off a look that bold. I just didn’t have the ovaries for shit like that.

  Sneaking a peek over to Frank, I could see that he didn’t share in my appreciation for her look.

  “You can not,” he grunted through gritted teeth. He appeared to be fighting with his caveman side and a side I didn’t know he had. One that respected the autonomy of women. His poor eyes kept darting away from her like he was trying to prevent himself from having very dirty thoughts.

  “What the fuck do you mean, ‘I can not’?” She looked like she was going to blow. “I look good, motherfucker. And you know it’s going to get hot in that club. I am not sweating my hair out.” Her hands went to their place on her hips. “You trying to tell me what to wear, Frank?”

  “Naw. Damn, woman.” He pushed his fist against his forehead. “I’m just trying not to fight with ever motherfucker in there that tries to put they hands on you.”

  Jill softened, but this wasn’t going to end unless I intervened. “You know, if you check out my closet, I have a couple of mesh dresses that can go over that. They make a nice silhouette with stuff like that.”

  Jill looked hungry for a moment. “You know what, I’m going to do that. I’ve been dying to put something together with your crazy Hillbilly clothes anyway.” She turned around and headed to my room as I yelled back there to her, “That’s Rockabilly!” It technically meant “Rock-N-Roll Hillbilly” but I was not getting into the history of the subculture with her.

  “Thanks.” It was barely heard, but I knew Frank was grateful, so I just hit him with my sly you’ll-owe-me-one-later face.

  He drained the glass of water and sat it on the side table. “So, look...I know you don’t make much. Does WITSEC give you an allowance?”

  “That ran out a while ago. It’s why I live in such a lovely place.” With a neighbor who had secret passageways through the alleys.

  “Well...here.” He reached into the inside of his jacket and pulled out an envelope. “This is for you. It should keep you on your feet until we open the club back up.”

  I grabbed the white envelope. It was thick. Looking inside revealed hundred dollar bills. A lot of them. “Shit, Frank, I can’t take this.”

  “Yeah you can. I gave the same to Jillesa. Charli and Robert, too. I got to take care of my mama’s kid.” He smiled just a little.

  “But where’d you get all of this?” I’m not even sure why I asked. I knew exactly where. “No, Frank. You can’t. It’s the one thing you didn’t want to do.”

  “I might not have wanted to, but I have to. If trouble has come to this city that has all the mafiosos this riled up...Shit, Kayla. Mama and I need to be protected. They’ll make sure nothing happens to us or the club, no matter what. They still owe my father favors he can’t collect on anyway because he died.” It was amazing that Frank Madero Sr. survived being a mafia heavy just to be taken by lung cancer.

  I closed the envelope and shoved it back at him. “I can’t take this, Frank. I just can’t. Give it back.”

  He held my palm and closed it back over the envelope. “Too late. I’m already in.”

  “Dammit.” I needed the money, but shit. I closed my eyes and rested my forehead on his shoulder, enjoying the soft feel of the worn leather jacket he had on. Soon, I felt a slight vibration that became a full-on earthquake. He was laughing. Hard.

  “Why have we never talked, little sis. I like you. A lot. You’re strange, but definitely family.”

  I sat back up and looked at him puzzled. “Frank, until a couple of days ago you only spoke to me in one-word sentences. For I while, I honestly thought something was wrong with you.”

  He laughed harder, “Okay.” Now, that was on purpose. I had to laugh, too. He had a great sense of humor, and he was honestly one of the most courageous people I’d ever met.

  “What the fuck are y’all laughing about?” Jill had changed. A little. She had layered the bralette with one of my hot pink corsets. It had green lace accents that went great with the shorts. Over that, she’d added a black leather cropped vest with fringe. Jill looked absolutely amazing in my clothes.

  Right down to the brand-new pink pumps that she had to have looked under my bed to find.

  That bitch.

  The Butcher's Got the Connects.

  I woke up the next morning not having gotten much sleep because all night I felt the emptiness of the space under my bed where a teal box was left, pilfered of its contents. I guess I owed Jillesa, but why the shoes, woman?

  My stomach was also empty, as it almost always felt these days. Luckily, I hadn’t been kept awake by Hammerdick’s nightly fitness routine. However, I did have wild dreams of him. At one point, I could swear I smelled him in my room, but I couldn’t open my eyes to see if my nose was playing tricks on me. I honestly felt a little comforted by the thought that he might have been watching over me. Oddly, I thought I may have felt him lightly kiss the foot that was peeking out from under my sheet before my brain fully awoke to an empty room. Was it strange that I was starting to feel a need to have him around, so much so that I was lucidly dreaming him right into my personal fucking space? Yeah. Duh.

  I threw off my covers and hopped out of bed much too
fast. I got the spins. Clearly, I wasn’t dead. But, dammit, I felt like it. And the fluids I was given through I.V. did absolutely nothing to fix my supposed dehydration. There was no way I could be pregnant either, but I still hadn’t started my period, and I needed iron soooo bad. A vitamin wouldn’t do, and I knew it. I also knew that Miguel had the early shift today, and I’d be paying him a visit. I didn’t want to take Frank’s mafia money, but hunger and brokeness made the decision for me. Maybe I could take just enough and give the rest back.

  I went through the motions of getting myself together without much pep or thought to the process. I simply showered, brushed my teeth and hair, threw on black leggings, a black bra, a black mesh sleeveless tunic, and black eyeliner. I noticed my skin had gone full alabaster. Not even dark circles marred the pale tone, so I didn’t bother with foundation and only added a plum-colored lipstick. Geez, when had I gone full-goth?

  I stepped outside around eight in the morning, glad that I’d thrown sunglasses in my bag because the sun was at full blast. The short walk to the supermercado had me winded and I, once again, reminded myself to start working out more. I’d never felt so out of shape, though it was clear that I was losing rather than gaining weight. I left my sunglasses on as I entered the store. Even the fluorescent lights were extra-blindy today.

  “Here comes my girl!” Miguel shouted as I made my way to his counter. His girl? Damn. The boy had it bad. I had no plans to be bitchy because I needed him for a few things, and sex wasn’t one of them. He was still cute as hell, but still young as hell too.

  I gave him the best flirty smile I could muster. “Hey you.” Leaning into the counter, I whispered, “You better watch it. Dating a zombie is a bad idea. I may eat you.”

  He smirked. “Hopefully, you’d keep me alive and eat my arms and legs first so I can enjoy knowing I’m making you fat and happy.”

  “Holy shitballs! You are one weird fucker.” I laughed loudly at his strange sense of humor that, thankfully, brightened my mood.

  “What’d the doc say yesterday?” he asked.