El Diablo (The Devil): The Good Ol' Boys Spin Off

by M. Robinson

  “Alejandro,” he coaxed, his mouth contorting, struggling to breathe. Sweat pooled at his temples as his now bloodshot eyes protruded out. His tan face quickly turned a reddish, blue hue, oxygen being cut off more and more. His chest heaved as he was trying to beg for help.

  My help.

  He wilted over in his chair, placing his head between his knees, clenching his chest with his right hand. Gasping for air that wasn't available for the taking. I watched with fascinated eyes, not moving an inch to help the son of a bitch.

  “I wonder if she thought about him when she was with you?”

  With wide eyes, he patted his hand against his chest. “Hijo, I think… I think… I’m having a heart attack,” he stuttered.

  “I wonder if she ever wanted to call out his name when you were together?”

  "You... know... nothing..." he drawled, gasping. Having a hard time getting his words out.

  I didn't falter. “Picturing his face when she told you she loved you,” I viciously spewed.

  “Mother... fucker. Who do you... think you are?” he questioned, dry heaving.

  “I know one thing, she probably fucking hated you. Like mother, like daughter. Amari couldn’t get away from you fast enough. Is that why you had Mom murdered? Couldn’t handle that she found someone newer and younger, replacing you, you miserable fuck. Picture it, Roberto balls deep in your wife, in your house, in your bed, while you were off fucking people over,” I snidely chuckled.

  “Call 911, you ungrateful... bastard, I can’t… No puedo…” he whimpered, sweating profusely now. “My heart…” He grabbed his chest, trying to stand to reach the phone receiver in front of him. Inching his fingers closer and closer until his body betrayed him.

  “So close, yet so far away.” I clapped my hands, then took another puff of my cigar. Blowing smoke toward him. Making him cough.

  His legs gave out and his body slid off the table backward, falling to the ground. His glass followed, shattering into a million pieces below him. He landed on his back, head bouncing off the floor, convulsing uncontrollably.

  Stubbing the cigar out in the ashtray, I sat back watching him seize on the ground and enjoying every last fucking second of it. Letting him feel the spasms of his heart pumping hard through his body. His veins protruding, losing circulation. Spit forming near his mouth, as his back arched off the floor choking on his own saliva.

  His body betraying him like he betrayed my mother.

  I finally pushed off the desk, stepping toward him, each stride more determined than the last.

  Crouching down, close to his face, I growled, “The dead can’t talk, old man.” Throwing his own words back at him. Wanting him to remember the day he set my life in motion.

  The day he damned me.

  “Please… help me…” he muffled so low I could barely hear him, placing his hand over his heart.

  “Like you helped my mother?” I didn’t falter, gripping onto his throat, squeezing lightly. Cutting off more of his air supply.

  His eyes widened in fear. I would remember the look on his face for the rest of my life. Another memory that would forever haunt me until the day I died. I held him down, pinning him to the floor by his throat, feeling it constrict under my fingers. I wanted him to feel everything as I choked the life out of him, slowly. Wanting him to feel the pain as he took his last breaths. Hoping that his life was flashing before his eyes.

  I needed to witness him struggle like my mother did, fighting for his life.

  I leaned forward, getting as close as I could to his ear, staring him dead in the eyes. I spoke with conviction, “This was for my mother.”

  His eyes glazed over, the realization that this was my retaliation. My revenge for my mother’s death. My vengeance on making it right by murdering him.

  His son was his demise.

  “Eye for eye, motherfucker.” I gripped his throat as hard as I fucking could. His body convulsed, legs, arms shaking uncontrollably and all over the place. “May you burn in Hell,” was the last thing I gritted out before his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he was dead.

  Letting go of his throat, I stood. Taking him in one last time, making sure he was really gone. Nudging him with my foot, rolling him over so I wouldn’t have to look at his fucking face again. I didn’t close his eyes or make the sign of the cross, I never wanted his goddamn soul to rest.

  I took a deep breath, immediately feeling a sense of peace since my mother died. I walked over to where the autopsy report laid on the floor, picking it up and placing it on his back. Along with the Pentobarbital that was inside of my suit jacket.

  Forever condemned.

  “Come and clean up this fucking mess. It’s done,” I ordered to one of my men on the phone.

  And I left.

  El Diablo never once looking back.

  “We have a problem,” Esteban stated, barging into my office without knocking, forcing my attention to him.

  The days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and one year bled into the next. I was twenty-four years old and I was Lucifer himself, leading the way to Hell. Almost a year after I took care of my father, I met Esteban at one of my strip clubs downtown.

  Let's just say he wasn't enjoying the entertainment.

  I was talking to my men, when we heard a little girl scream, “Stop! Don’t hurt him.” My men tried to step in and intervene, but I put my hand out in front of their chests, stopping them. I pulled out a cigarette instead, leaned against the brick wall behind my strip club and watched. Esteban was getting his ass kicked by three junkies in my alley. He was homeless at the time, rummaging through the dumpster for food. Sleeping under overpasses or in alleyways. He was a scrappy little fucker but he could handle his own.

  Taking as much as he was giving.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a little figure cowering in the shadows. I walked toward her, picking her up and placing her in my arms. She had bright green eyes and long dark hair, she couldn’t have been older than four.

  “Where the Hell did you come from?” I asked her.

  “A…lex…a,” she stuttered, bowing her head. I could barely understand her baby gibberish. Tears poured down her porcelain skin, terrified at the scene unfolding in front of her. Nothing a little girl should be witnessing.

  “Lex, hasn’t your mama told you about the monsters that lurk in the dark?”

  Her eyes widened with fear.

  “I’m one of those monsters,” I whispered into her ear.

  Esteban tried to watch the whole scene unfold, making it harder for him to defend himself. To make a long story short, my men stopped the fight, Esteban was the only one that stayed behind, worried for the little girl.

  I respected that.

  I asked him if he wanted a job, and he happily obliged. After bullshitting for a few minutes, I handed him the kid and told him to find her fucking parents. I didn’t have time to babysit.

  He’d been working for me ever since.

  I peered up at him, narrowing my eyes. “Congratulations. Did you forget how to fucking knock?” The blonde's head that was sucking my cock tried to look up, but I pushed her back down. “Did I say you could stop?” She gagged, taking my dick all the way to the back of her throat.

  “I… I was… it didn’t…” Esteban stuttered, watching her mouth stroke me up and down, my grip never moving from the back of her head.

  My cell phone rang with an unknown number appearing on the screen. “I need to take this.”

  “I need—”

  “I don't know why you think I fucking care, Esteban. Now turn around, man the fuck up, and take care of the problem.”

  “Alej—”

  “Go outside, and play hide and go fuck yourself. I need to take this call,” I ordered in a demanding tone. “Ahora!”

  Patience was never part of my nature, especially now.

  “Did I fucking stutter?”

  He finally nodded, turned and left.

  I shoved the blond
e’s head away, causing her to fall on her ass with a thud. “That means you too, sweetheart.”

  “What the fuck?” she seethed.

  “No shit. With lips like yours I thought you’d be a goddamn pro.”

  “Who the fuck do you think you are talking to me like that? I’m the best.”

  “The best thing to ever come out of your mouth was my cock. Now get the fuck out.”

  “You’re an asshole!”

  “If I wanted a comeback, I’d ask you to spit.”

  She stomped her way toward the door, like I gave a fuck. “Martinez,” I answered the phone as soon as she slammed the door shut behind her.

  “Alejandro Martinez?” the woman on the other end inquired.

  “This is him,” I responded, annoyed.

  “I’m calling from Sibley Memorial Hospital. There’s been a car accident. You’re the contact in case of emergency for Michael and Amari Mitchell. We need for you to come in as soon as possible.”

  “What? What do you mean? Where's Amari? Is she okay?” My heart sped up, beating out of my chest. Panic setting in.

  “Sir, calm down. All I can tell you over the phone is that we need you to come in. We’re legally bound not to disclose any information over the phone, Sir.”

  “Please…” I begged in a voice I didn’t recognize. “Where is the little girl? Daisy, their daughter. The least you could do is tell me that. Where is Daisy?”

  “She’s here too. I'd advise you to come immediately. The nurses will inform you once you’ve arrived.”

  “Ma'am, with all due respect I need to talk to my fucking sister,” I gritted through a clenched jaw, trying not to flip the fuck out on her.

  “Mr. Martinez, it's important that you get on the next flight out. That's all I can say.”

  I ended the call, dialing one of my men I had watching them. “What the fuck?”

  “Boss,” he answered. “It’s bad. It’s really fucking bad. I was just about to call you.”

  “Are they alive?”

  “Boss, I—”

  “Are they fucking alive?”

  “Daisy is. I’m sor—” I hung up.

  The picture of Daisy lying on Amari’s chest when she was born, sat on the corner of my desk, mocking me. She was looking down at her newborn daughter adoringly, already a devoted mother. Daisy was the first and last baby I’d ever held. I hadn’t seen either one of them since that day, six years ago.

  I loved Daisy instantly, which was such a foreign emotion for me. I hadn’t felt love in such a long time. I didn’t even think I was capable of feeling it any more. I held her tiny frame against my chest, cradling her in my arms. Rubbing her chubby baby fingers, as I stared into her beautiful eyes. Memorizing the feel of her soft skin and baby scent. The need to protect her was so overpowering for someone I’d only just met for the first time. A primal urge to keep her safe took over, and I would stop at nothing to keep my niece away from harm.

  Exactly how I would her mother.

  No matter what the cost.

  It was then I realized I didn’t fit into Amari’s life. Knowing I could bring danger into the lives of the only family members I had left, was too much for me to bear.

  I stayed away to keep them safe.

  My feet moved on their accord toward the wet bar in the corner of my office, downing the amber liquid without thinking twice about it. No glass needed. Bringing the bottle away from my mouth, I hurled it across the room. Watching as it shattered against the wall, falling into shards on the hardwood floor. My stomach churned and my mind reeled. My body couldn’t move fast enough around the room, pushing over everything that was in my immediate sight. Throwing and swinging at anything I could find, screaming at the top of my lungs over and over again, until my throat burned raw. And my chest heaved.

  Seconds, minutes, hours later, everything blended together, and I just stood there taking in the results of my destruction. My body propelled itself upward while panting and heaving, every breath harder to take than the one before.

  How did this fucking happen?

  I was supposed to protect her.

  Beating myself up inside.

  I blinked and I was sitting in my airplane, flying toward Washington. Contemplating my life.

  I’ve killed.

  I’ve tortured.

  Innocent lives had paid the price. My price. Just to prove a fucking point, to rise above everyone and everything. Even God wasn't safe from me. I was a ruthless motherfucker who didn’t take no for an answer. No one crossed me and lived to tell the tale. I had no respect or loyalty to anyone but myself.

  Not once did I ever think about the pain I was inflicting. The consequences of my actions would be the biggest regrets of my life.

  Everything progressed in slow motion, seconds turned to minutes, and minutes turned to hours. The ding to my voicemail broke the silence around me. The screen lit up as it had for the past two days. Notifying me I had one missed call and one unheard voicemail that stuck out from all the rest.

  My sister’s.

  I wasn’t sure what I felt at that moment, fear maybe, panic, confusion. Remembering I hit ignore to Amari’s phone call two days ago, always too busy to take a few minutes out of my fucked up life to talk to her. My adrenaline was racing, my body felt stiff, and my hands were shaking. I suddenly felt bile rising in my throat, and fought back the urge to heave.

  Taking a few deep breaths, I hit the voicemail button, deleting message after message until I got to hers.

  “Shit! Oh, crap, Daisy, don’t repeat that,” Amari’s voice filled the air. “I didn’t mean to call you, stupid fat fingers hitting the wrong numbers. I was trying to reach Michael. Daisy and I are stuck on the side of the road, and it looks like it might start pouring any second now. Anyway, I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, it’s not like you care.” Her bitter tone bit me like a snake in the night.

  My vision blurred, not being able to see anything in front of me. Was I crying?

  “It would be nice to just hear from you from time to time. You’re still my brother, no matter what. I love you, Alejandro. I’m still here. Maybe you need to hear it from me to remember that. Hopefully we will talk soon. Be safe.” The line went silent.

  The only words that registered were…

  “I’m still here.”

  My hand fell away from my ear, still holding the phone. Not bothering to hit the end button, staring at the screen while my mind was stuck on one phrase.

  “I’m still here.”

  It was an endless phrase that repeated itself over and over in my head, a cycle that I couldn’t stop, over and over again.

  “I’m still here.”

  I couldn’t move. I couldn’t feel. I couldn’t talk.

  I was numb.

  The darkness settled all around me. Memories of Amari and I came flooding into my mind. From our childhood to the day she walked out of my life, and everything in between. Little mental souvenirs of our time together. I sat there until my body couldn’t take it anymore. I sat there until I felt like there was nothing left of me.

  Knowing I would be nothing after this. A shell of the man I used to be. I was an abstract painting and a kaleidoscope of pain. I lived everyday with constant reminders of mistakes and regrets, the things I could never change…

  The past.

  The present.

  The future.

  Then.

  Now.

  Forever.

  The relentless torture of love and hate.

  The distant memory of the boy I was, and the ruthless man I’d become.

  The next thing I knew, I was walking toward the morgue in the hospital to identify their bodies. My heart pounded against my chest, ringing in my ears as they pulled back the locker that held my sister’s body. Nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to see. The woman that was lying there, no longer full of life, laughter, or love.

  No longer full of anything.

  I leaned forward, kissing her
forehead, expecting to feel her warmth. Instead all I got was her freezing cold skin against my lips. “Peace, I leave with you. My peace I give you,” I whispered the bible verse, making the sign of the cross over her body.

  I nodded to the coroner, unable to find the words to say this was Amari. Holding back the desire to fall apart and die right along with her. I couldn't, her baby girl needed someone, and I’d made her a promise a long time ago, a promise I intended to keep. I left the morgue without looking back. The hospital where I held Daisy as a newborn, welcoming her into the cruel world, was now the same hospital I said goodbye to her mother.

  My beloved sister.

  I walked into Daisy’s hospital room, her tiny frame hooked up to several machines, as she laid unconscious in her hospital bed. The beeping sound of the heart monitor and the rhythmic hissing sound of the ventilator echoed all around me. Filling me with some kind of hope. She looked so small and delicate holding her favorite blanket, the one I had sent to Amari for Daisy’s first birthday. I may not have kept in touch, but I never missed my niece’s birthdays or holidays.

  I pulled up a chair beside her bed and took a seat. Taking in her beautiful face that reminded me so much of Amari's. Reaching for her hand, I lifted it and placed it in my grasp. My hands so big compared to hers, they swallowed them whole. I leaned over, bowing my head in shame over her broken, bruised, cut up body.

  “I’m so sorry, peladita. I didn’t want this for you. I’m so fucking sorry," I sobbed, laying my forehead on our joined hands.

  This would be the last time I cried for the rest of my life.

  The last time I would apologize to anyone.

  Saying goodbye to my sister was the final farewell to what was left of my heart and soul. I was now hollow inside. It was easier that way, I needed to turn off my humanity. No longer wanting to feel anything.

  After this…

  There was nothing left of me.

  “Alright, little lady Lexi, this is your stop,” my bus driver, Anna called out. Peering up at me through the mirror above her head.