“You wanna know who got that rich school girl?” he asks, eyes darting around.
“Yeah,” Popeye says as Lorenzo starts changing his magazine. Dropping the empty one on the ground. We try to get ol’ boy to speak quickly before Lorenzo kills any more of our people.
“That little girl was hanging with them niggas around the way. One of them her boyfriend.”
“Aye, what’s ya name?” I ask, rubbing my chin in thought.
“Nino.”
Nah. He ain't familiar at all.
“Look like you don’ saved ya busted ass town.” Lorenzo frowns. “Shoulda said something earlier.” He shakes his head at the dead people scattering the ground. Almost 10.
“Come show us these dudes.” I add, “Tell us everything you know...”
Chapter 79
ROCKWELL
Last week, life had been so very different. Me, Lakitha and Blu took a jet ride to one of the most expensive spa resorts in South America. The goons assigned to us weren’t even allowed to enter the resort premises, so it took a while for us to find out. We’d just checked in to our five star hotel room, and against Blu’s wishes, had already begun to relax with hot stone therapy. I had yet to tell her that this place was going to help us detox and had beauty benefits, but anyways, Blu snuck her cell phone. She got this text message from Popeye. At first we figured the dudes forgot about us telling them we’d be out of town for a few days. It figures. But nah, the text was about Rita going off on Santiago.
Then Toi…
We came home quickly. I’ve been on my knees, praying to God ever since. Loving a Colombian cartel thug isn’t easy. And my mommy’s words about me being with Lorenzo, well, this shit is finally hitting home.
While I’m going from crying a river for Toi, praying, and wishing for my own Mommy, Junior peeks into my room.
“I miss dad,” Junior busts up crying. Damn… What do I say? My son must feel the tension from the past few days. Lila and Lisa have been crying more. I've been miserable wanting Lorenzo to come home.
But I know that things are all fucked up right now. The dudes have been gone for two nights. Phillip and Lorenzo Junior aren’t the funny little comedians that hold the house down when the men are gone. Nah, we are all just feeling this raw, unimaginable pain.
“I know you miss dad,” I tell our son. “Let’s pray for him....”
“Mom,” Lorenzo Junior sighs. “We’re always praying for dad. I just want him to come home now.”
I get up from bed, to give my five-year-old son a hug and take him back to his bedroom. The room is decorated with Iron Man. We lay in his custom-made bed. I read the children’s Bible to Junior. A peace takes over my son. Inside my heart, I am hoping that it will one day be a peace that can heal my husband. Junior snors softly. As I’m tiptoeing from his room, Lakitha is stepping out of the library.
“Can’t sleep?” she asks.
“Nope.” I shake my head with a sigh. Since Lakitha looks like she has something on her mind we head into my room and out onto the balcony. After a while of getting comfortable on the wicker couch, Lakitha turns to me.
“We need to talk. I know Renzo is having his moment. I guess this is the way he has always been.”
“What’s up?” I reply, eyebrows knitted together.”
“Yeah, look worse for real,” Lakitha begins. “Lorezno handles these types of situations differently, Rocky… You’re doing good inserting yourself into our culture. But it’s hard. Just keep remembering that Lorenzo’s head space isn’t right at the moment.”
I nod. Lakitha has more brains than all of us put together. She’s always trying to be the family counselor.
“I know,” I nod. As kids, either Lorenzo would come to me or he would be M.I.A for a few days when stuff got too tough to handle. But there’s nothing in this world that I ever want more than to be his rock when shit goes bad. Renzoo is always mine…
Chapter 80
RITA
16 years ago…
“Rita,” Henry had looked in my eyes like he could never be happier, as he held a two-month-old Toi in his arms. “Look at my baby girl, look what we’ve made.”
I couldn’t help but smile too. My nigga had always put a smile on my face. We worked hard, me as a maid at the beachside hotel and him as an entertainer. Henry looked just like Denzel Washington, with the same sexy voice but he could sing a woman out of her thong. He sang and played the piano during season when all the rich folk would come. Then he’d go back home to Hoover, Illinois. We were too broke to get me and our three young children (Lorenzo, Blu, and Lakitha) over to the States, let alone this new addition to the family. Asking Santi for anything, taking my birthright, all of that was not an option. So my heart would break each time that tourist season ended. Henry would return home to check on his momma and make money elsewhere.
“Henry, she looks just like you.” I smiled, legs crossed at the ankle while leaning against the doorframe.
“Just as long as she has nappy hair,” he whispered, laying Toi in the crib.
I gave him the evil eye but smiled. Then I stand up straight to show him some love. Our lips slip together like perfect puzzle pieces and the way our tongues swirl around has me moaning.
“Damn Margarita, you’re going to make me stay…” Henry sighed, hugging me tightly.
“How’s your momma?” I asked, trying to be a good woman, a good wife.
“Okay,” he said, though I didn’t notice he wouldn’t look me in the eye. I watched my sexy black man walk through our tiny apartment, hugging two-year-old Lakitha. She grabbed his arms and started to toddle away, “Daddy, book, book.”
He followed, “Lala, I can’t read to you now, baby. You’re mommy will.”
“No daddy, you.” Lakitha looked like an angry chipmunk with those cheeks.
Henry picked her up. “I’m going to check on your grandma.”
“Wanna see gram?” Lakitha asked.
Henry handed her to me, and went to our only bedroom. Four year old Blu and five year old Lorenzo were sitting on their bunk beds with their arms folded. By now, they knew the drill.
“Come here, my pretty Blu,” he implored.
“No.” She wouldn’t even look his way.
Tall as Henry was, it didn’t take but a second for him to scoop her off the top bunk. I watched, holding Lakitha, as he told Blu how beautiful she is then promises to bring her something sweet when he comes home.
“Me, me,” Lakitha asks.
“Yes, something sweet for you too,” he replies, putting Blu down. Then Henry turned to Lorenzo. They glanced at each other for a second, and then Henry has to go…
~~~
“Moms… Moms,” Blu says, breaking through the past.
I’m seated on the edge of my bed, staring out the window. The sky is gray, the palm trees are bending backwards in the harsh wind.
“Moms, I cooked,” Blu adds, in a challenging tone. “You need to eat.”
My mind conjures up a smart remark. How can I eat? How can I do anything till my Toi returns home? But nope. The words fail me, no energy for anger. Damn, I don’t even know how long I’ve been in this exact spot.
Blu puts a tray of something down, but I can’t stop looking out the window. “Moms–”
“I called your daddy.”
“Um whatever,” she starts to walk away, then stops. I know my kids don’t understand the relationship I had with their father. We had started off so in love. To be honest, Lorenzo was done with Henry. Blu was done. The rest of them kinda tried.
Blu turns around, hands on her hips asking, “What that nigga say?”
“He hung up in my face.”
Yup, that gets my child to hurry the fuck up out my room. Good, now I can be alone again.
Chapter 81
BLU
My eyes are burning; fuck a tear. I ain’t crying for that nigga. I stomp down the stairs and into the kitchen where Rockwell is washing dishes, Chuey is drying them. Lakitha is making
masa and Toi… nope, she ain’t helping out! My veins are frozen, I need something to fuck with, to kill. Toi won’t be talking shit about having to help cook because some-muthafuckin’-body murdered my hermana. Knees weak, I fall onto the marble floor.
“Oh baby,” Popeye comes from clearing the counter to help me up.
“No… no…” I take his hand and get up. “Gimme a phone, gimme a fucking phone.”
“What’s wrong, sis?” Lakitha asks, rubbing white powder from her hands.
Chuey quickly hands his cell phone.
“Thanks cuzzo,” I mumble and start dialing a number that I can’t get out of my mind. Don’t ask why. Never in my life have I called my father. The phone begins to ring as I think. By the time we had figured that nigga was never coming back from Hoover for us, I learned then. The years it took us before we made it to Hoover, well, I could give a fuck about that nigga. Guess my moms had other plans because she still got pregnant with Lorenza by the lame, in the states.
Some female answers, I can only presume it’s the bitch that married him right after my moms did. “This is Blu. If you fucking hang up, I swear before God, that I will come straight for you. Chop yo’ ass down into tiny pieces. Now lemme speak to my father.”
“Who is this?” the female asks.
I spout out her address. Yeah, I know more about Henry than he knows about us.
“Okay-okay, hold on.” I can hear rustling as she goes to get my father.
Then that nigga gets on the phone asking, “Blu, why the fuck are you calling me, huh?”
“Toi is dead.”
“So that’s why your ma called earlier, huh? To tell me her child was dead? You’re really ruining my sleep!”
I shout into the phone. “Sleep with one eye open muthafucka! In less than 24 hours, I’ma be right at your spot. I’ma burn that muthafucka down with you, your bitch, and your 20-something kids in it!” I start toward the kitchen sliding glass door when my mentality changes, “Henry, you are coming to the funeral–”
“Little girl don’t threaten me, I ain’t even your fucking daddy!”
“What you talking about, man? You too fucking old for the same old lines. Nigga, I look just like you. Dark, same nose, same eye shape!” My hand is shaking so hard I can’t even get the sliding glass door open.
“Okay, maybe you then, Blu. But I ain’t father to all you little bastard’s. And I sure wasn’t Toi’s!” He hangs up in my face.
I punch the sliding glass door, my hand is bleeding. The door shatters. I try to kick and break the rest of the glass but Chuey and Popeye grab me.
“Nah, I need to go get my gun. I need to get some matches and some gasoline,” I shout as they bring me to the floor and pull me away from the shattered glass. “I’ma go kill this lying ass nigga! Saying Toi wasn’t his child!”
Chapter 82
CHUEY.
After banging on Rita’s door to see if she had something to sedate Blu, Popeye and I just decide to give Blu some of the kids' Benadryl, since Rita wouldn't open up. We lay her in one of the guest bedrooms in the main mansion. And I stand right outside the door, waiting for Rockwell to come out.
Holding the first-aid kit that she just bandaged Blu with, Rockwell peers through the darkness at me then rolls her eyes. I follow as she continues to walk down the hall. When she steps into a bathroom, I move quickly inside after her and shut the door, locking it behind me. She was acting odd when I came up and started helping her with the dishes earlier.
“Rocky,” I hug on her.
“Lemme go,” she snaps in a low tone. “Don’t touch me.”
Damn, I knew it. Them going to Tokyo would be a setback for me and Rocky finally getting together. Yes, I know Rockwell ain’t going to let me love her the only way I know how right now. Not with everybody mourning Toi’s death. But I want to be there for her, comfort her.
“Lorenzo has been gone for days, Rocky.” I hold tightly to her. “All I’m tryna do is be there for you.”
“Chuey, you are a lying ass snake,” Rockwell says. “Oh, you don’t even know what’s my dysfunction, huh? Because all you do is sneak around. Come see me then disappear for a while and swoop in when Lorenzo is gone. Yup, that’s you, Santiago Junior.”
“Don’t fucking call me that,” I reply.
“Why not? That’s your name. Santiago Luis Medina Mendoza.”
“Look mommi,” I step closer to Rocky–
“Save it,” she slaps me. “Mama Rita thinks your father has something to do with Toi’s death. Quite frankly, I do too. Let me go help them prepare for a funeral in peace, okay? I’m too busy for the bull. And I wish, I never even kissed you! Santiago Junior.”
~~~
At the gate with the “SM” initials, I look out the window of my BWM. I mad dog the guards on either side as they take their sweet time opening up for me. Seems my scary ass father is in fear. Sometimes guards stand watch with the gate open. Sometimes he slips up. But today he got a strong arm on the entire lot with ugly ass Colombianos glaring as I drive up.
How the fuck was Rockwell going to compare me to this muthafucka? That shit had me heated, on my mind even now as I take my Glock from the glove compartment. Upped my numbers at the beginning of the week when that little dude Nino told us about Toi’s murderers. I can still see myself scrubbing blood from my hands. But I'm feeling like taking out my old man.
To think I was mean to Toi when she was here the last time. Thought she would get the memo, and stay away from Santiago. My father ain't shit. He’s fucked up in the head. Maybe I am to, but I try to have some type of morals. I still feel some type of way when murking a muthafucka. And I know Santi ain't feel shit when he had Toi murdered by his dime pushers.
Like I did a little while ago, I creep through the house in the dark. Silently open the door to my father’s office. Only the fireplace lends light as Santi sips on his orange juice and vodka. Four of his goons stand at the various focal points of the office, posted with submachine guns in their hands.
“Have you lost your muthafuckin’ mind?” I ask, pulling out my gun. I expect his thugs to react but they don’t.
Santiago slowly pulls out his desert eagle with its pearl handle. Sitting it on the table as a warning. The goons on watch in the house, start into the room. They all look bullet happy too. And my finger is itching to pull the trigger.
“Lemme rephrase that question Santi Junior. Have you lost your mind? To step to your father in such a manner, such disrespect?” he spits the words.
“I spent the first half of my life trying to be enough. Out did Sean– and my other illegitimate brothers –at targeting anything you taught. But never heard not one proud word. Went to college at your request. Shoulda known. The first time you say something positive. Muthafucka, you woulda been good if I wasn’t so smart. But nah, you realized my intelligence was a benefit and sent off to college. You’re final interest in me was to tailor me for the FBI. Because you're too fucking scary! Too muthafuckin’ scare. No, bump that. You so grimy that the Feds who were on your payroll, didn't even trust you. So I made it to the inside.”
“Good looking out Special Agent–exactly what is your name again?”
“Agent Cruz,” I mumble. Only Emerald and Hernandez know my true identity.
Santiago picks up a cigar from a cherry wood box on the desk and begins to light it, “Well, Agent Cruz, you've done as I have requested. What else the fuck you want? You wan’ me to kiss that little brown ass of yours?” He leans back puffing on his a cigar, with a chuckle.
I look him dead in the eye, needing to know if Santiago had anything to do with Toi’s death. He could have, or it could have been a random, a hater of the Mendoza De Dios Cartel who knew Toi’s connection. But I shout, “Toi’s family. A fucking kid.”
“That little cunt was far from a kid! But she didn't work it like a woman.”
“Pinche pendejo, you disgust me,” I sneer.
He laughs and puffs o’s up to the sparkling chandelier. �
�The bitch shoulda known if she was going to dabble in grown folk business that this shit ain't a game. Every time I asked for Intel on Lorenzo, she gave a giggle, and played her little games. Games are flirtatious to me, so I forgot she was familia…” He shrugs. “Toi didn't want to make good on all the games. She had a mouth. And by no means am I referring to her sucking a dick... ha ha ha. Even with my desert eagle to her head, Toi couldn't get but two, maybe three inches in her mouth. Looks like you wanna say something but lemme finish. Now that Toi ain't nothing compared to Rockwell Townsend. I mean she could suck a dick so well. And her body. After those two babies, I expected it would be some time before she got that shape back but wow, she's the type of bitch anybody would want on their team.” He sighs as if he the secret camcorders he has in their mansion are running film through his eyes even now.
“You’re also forgetting, my son, that we need Lorenzo to be just a little bit off his game when the next shipment goes out. What better to do that when it comes to blood. Everybody loves family.” Santiago licks his lips and continues, “So I killed two birds with one stone. Antoinetta’s flirtations and just her—basically. Now, your own mother, now Mayté had the same shape. Then the bitch decided to hold onto all that baby fat, since having Sean!” He looks disgusted. “Now that I’ve bared my soul to you, put all my cards on the table, you're my son. My junior! It’s your turn, show a bit of reverence, as you should have upon your arrival. Know your place, before your stupid ass gets put the fuck down!” He waves his hand. On cue the four goons point their guns at me. My eyelid twitches as I glare at them all while leaving.
Chapter 83
LORENZO
Been posted at Janyca’s house for days. As I’m laying in her bed, I look at my hands, and remember them painted red with the blood of the three dudes that lil’ nigga Nino pointed out to me. Man, me and Chuey tortured those muthafuckas even worse than Rocky’s uncle Marcel would have, even worse than Santiago would have.
Loving a Colombian Cartel Thug 2 (Loving a Columbian Cartel Thug) Page 21