Hard Trauma

by Franklin Horton

  “How do you intend to do that?”

  “You’re going to Mexico for a while. You’ve poked the hornet’s nest and I can’t keep you in my home. We’ll find a safe place for you in a small town where no one talks.”

  “What about the girl? What about the money she’ll bring from El Clavo?”

  Luis finished his own cigarette, crumpling the butt into an ashtray, and giving his mother a pointed stare. “You’ll get no money. Tonight, my people will kill the man who followed you here from Virginia, the girl too. I’ll stick them in a hole in the desert far away from here. Then hopefully the trail goes cold and this will all just fade away.”

  Tia stood in a huff. “If you can just hang onto her for a few days, she’ll bring good money.”

  “Are you crazy?” Luis demanded, raising his voice. “I expect the police to show up here tomorrow because of you! They’re probably working on a search warrant right now. I have to devote all my resources to making sure there’s nothing illegal on this property. This is extra work you created. You’re costing me money.”

  Tia waved Luis off and walked away. She wanted to stomp off, but as an overweight old woman in Crocs the gesture lost some of its impact.

  “Where are you going?”

  “If your mother might trouble you to borrow a car, I need to go into the city.”

  “What for?”

  Tia stopped and replied without turning to look at him. “The botanica. I need a few things if I’m going to Mexico.”

  “Surely anything you get at a botanica here, you can find at a botanica in Mexico. Probably even cheaper.”

  She was hearing none of it. “Can I borrow a car or not?”

  “No,” Luis said. “You’ve been drinking and you can’t be trusted. I’ll have someone drive you.” He wasn’t going to let her out of his sight.

  “Fine then,” Tia spat. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Have them meet me there.”

  Luis pulled his phone from his pocket and punched a number from his contacts. “I need you to run my mother into the city.”

  Though the man agreed, Luis could hear the reluctance in his voice. It was a job no one wanted. The old lady could be a handful.

  He replaced the phone in his pocket. His mother had become a pain in the ass over the last couple of years. She wasn’t as cautious as she should be. She didn’t understand technology well enough to take the proper precautions. She was going to end up getting herself thrown in jail, possibly even implicating him in the process. He should probably be burying her in the desert too.

  Though he’d meant it sarcastically, that was a thought worth considering. She was his mother but what had that ever meant in the context of their relationship? She hadn’t been warm and nurturing. He’d been tucked into bed by putas who worked for his mother. She was more likely to cook meth than bake cookies. Then there was the time he’d found a human head in the freezer when he was looking for a Hot Pocket.

  Luis pulled his phone back out of his pocket. He dialed Ramon, the man he’d left watching Ty. “Hey, Ramon, have a second barrel handy.” He ended the call and headed for his office. He had a lot to think about.

  42

  It was Alvarez who showed up in the kitchen as Tia’s driver. That was fine with her. Alvarez had come up as an enforcer in her crew, when she had a crew. He collected payments and drove off pimps who tried to steal her girls. He was a physically powerful man, even with a few years on him. Perhaps not the sharpest knife in the drawer but that was not a detractor in a business where loyalty mattered more than brains. Besides, no leader wanted soldiers smart enough to plot against them. It was better to hire men who were comfortable as followers.

  Alvarez wasn’t spooked by Tia in the way many of the younger men were. Everyone knew she prayed to Santa Muerte, as did many of them, but some thought her to be bruja, a witch. How else did a woman become so powerful in a man’s business? Command such respect? Her appearance, with the crazy eye makeup and the long, sharp nails, didn’t help.

  While Tia had heard the whispers, she didn’t care if they thought she was a witch. She was long past caring what anyone thought of her. All she wanted was the money and respect she deserved. Aside from that, they could think whatever they wanted.

  “Where are we going, Tia?”

  “A botanica in the city.”

  Alvarez nodded thoughtfully. “I know one closer.”

  She shook her head. “That’s not my botanica. Mine is in Wakefield and that’s where I need to go.”

  Alvarez shrugged deferentially. He didn’t care. Work was work, and at least this was in an air-conditioned vehicle. It beat helping the other men clean out the ranch.

  Soon they were on the highway heading toward the city. While Alvarez would have been completely comfortable not speaking at all, Tia intentionally engaged him. She brought up stories from the old days, when they were both young and hungry.

  “You were so scary,” Tia teased. “No one wanted to mess with you. No one would steal my girls when they found out you were protecting them.”

  Alvarez cracked a smile at that. He’d been young and crazy, anxious to make a name for himself.

  “You remember that night we went to the casino to party because we’d scored big? We all felt rich and dangerous, like we were big time gangsters. I took you as my bodyguard because it made me feel important to need a bodyguard, like I was a celebrity or something. You remember that, Alvarez?”

  He gave a single nod, not taking his eyes from the road.

  “You remember how that night ended, el amor?” Tia gave Alvarez a coy look, then reached over and tweaked him on the thigh.

  He indeed remembered. The grin spreading on his face and the sparkle in his eye told her he did.

  “Cocaine, tequila, and passion,” she whispered in a throaty voice.

  Alvarez cleared his throat. “I was much younger then, Tia.”

  “We both were, but you were an animal.” She fanned herself, as if the memory threatened to overcome her.

  “I was drunk. Had it not been for the cocaine, I’d have passed out on the floor.”

  “Well, you didn’t pass out. You left me with a memory that puts a smile on an old woman’s face.”

  Alvarez’s grin faded as he lost himself in the old memories, floating like motes of dust stirred by Tia dragging him through the past. Much had happened to both of them since then. Some of it good, some it not so good. They rode in silence for the remaining twenty minutes, each lost in the grainy highlight reel of their youth, until Alvarez rolled to a stop in front of the botanica.

  “You wait here,” Tia said. “I have prayers and they’re personal.”

  “As you wish,” Alvarez said. He cracked his window open and lit a cigarette.

  Tia sat looking at him. “Are you going to open an old lady’s door or have you forgotten all your manners?”

  Alvarez sighed and opened his door. He stood, hitched his belt, and went around to Tia’s side where he held the door open for her. With a little effort, she worked herself out of the car and stood. She took a moment to straighten her clothes. Alvarez looked away, patiently waiting for her to move along so he could close the door and get back into the air-conditioned interior.

  When she was clear, he shut the door and watched her shuffle toward the botanica in her baggy sweat suit, white socks, and yellow Crocs. He recalled a day when the view from this side had been much better. He shrugged, walked around the car, and got back inside.

  Without knocking, Tia twisted the knob, calling out as she entered. “Lucia! Sweetie, are you home?”

  Tia knew she was, otherwise the door would have been locked, a note left on the door. Lucia rushed around the counter, took her by the arm, and escorted her to the small table where she did readings.

  “I’m so glad to see you in good health, Miss Tia,” Lucia said. Though she had watched the man from Virginia being taken away, she didn’t mention it. You survived in this neighborhood by not seeing such things and, most certainl
y, by not talking about those things you didn’t see. She wouldn’t bring it up unless Tia did.

  “Good to see you too, Lucia. That pink looks amazing in your hair. If I was a few years younger, I would wear colors like that.”

  “You still could,” Lucia said. “I know a girl who’s good with colors.”

  “Too much trouble for me these days.” Tia patted her hair. “I like simple.”

  “Well, if you change your mind, you just let me know.”

  Tia settled into the wobbly little chair, setting her purse on the floor. She became serious, pausing before continuing. “I’m so glad you were in today.”

  Lucia slid into the seat across the table. “Miss Tia, I’m always in for you. If I’m not here, you call me, and I’ll come in just for you. You know that. I’ll take good care of you.”

  Tia reached across the table and patted Lucia on the back of her hand, a gesture of appreciation. She withdrew her hands, resting them on the table palms down, fingers flared, displaying her nails.

  Lucia took the hint. “Oh my God, Miss Tia. Your nails are so beautiful.”

  Tia smiled. “They’re a lot of trouble. It’s my one indulgence.” Her smile faded. “There is so much, child. I don’t even know where to start.”

  Lucia lit a candle between them. “What weighs on your heart?”

  Tia sighed. “I’m wondering if I have disappointed Holy Death in some way. If I have fallen out of her favor. She blessed me for several years now and I honor her with my tributes every day. Several times a day, in fact.”

  “I know you are a devout and spiritual woman.”

  “Thank you,” Tia said. “I like to think so, but I recently had a business matter fall through. It’s nothing I want to go into detail about but Holy Death has always looked after me in matters of business. Yet everything around this venture has gone wrong. Now I have to leave the country for a...family matter. I am not certain when I will be coming back.”

  “It sounds like you require a strong blessing.”

  “I do,” Tia said, nodding adamantly. “Perhaps more.”

  Lucia rose from the table and selected several multi-colored candles. They began as one color but all had black bases. One began burning as red but ended in black. Another began burning as gold then turned to black. She found a glass bottle with a corked lid and a handwritten label. She tipped a drop of the amber oil onto a fingertip and anointed each candle. She placed them at the base of the life-sized Santa Muerte that dominated the room, then placed two pillows before the statue.

  She went to Tia and helped her up. “We need to kneel. I will say a prayer and you need to repeat each line after me.”

  Tia nodded, her joints cracking as she got to her feet. She stood before the shrine, slowly lowering herself to the pillow with Lucia’s help. When Tia was comfortable, Lucia joined her on the second pillow. She began rocking back and forth, her eyes closed, the candlelight flickering on her face. She moaned and whispered while Tia sat beside her, eyes shut in her own beseeching.

  “I will pray now,” Lucia said. “Repeat after me.”

  Tia did as requested and the pair prayed until the candles melted. When the flames flickered noisily in the puddles of melted wax, Lucia rose and helped Tia to her feet, helped her to a chair, and took the seat across from her.

  “This will help you. It was powerful. When you return from wherever you’re going, come see me. Let me know if this helped. If not, we’ll try something else.”

  “Before I leave I need some herbs,” Tia said.

  “What condition are we treating?”

  “Rats,” Tia said.

  “Rats?” Lucia asked, raising an eyebrow. “Have you considered traps?”

  Tia directed her gaze toward the young witch. Gone was the feeble old lady, replaced by the commanding presence she concealed beneath. “Rats are stealing my lemonade. I need something I can put in there that will take care of them. It should be something rats won’t detect until it’s too late. No taste, no odor. Do you have anything like that?”

  Lucia nodded. “I do. Such tinctures are very powerful and very expensive.”

  Tia dug into her purse and removed a roll of bills secured by a rubber band. “Have I not always treated you well?”

  “You have, Miss Tia, and I meant no disrespect. I just wanted to make sure you knew in advance. It will take me a few minutes to prepare the tincture. Do you want to pick it up later or wait?”

  “I’ll wait. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to come back.” She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her purse and looked around. “Can I smoke in here?”

  Lucia nodded. “Si, but The Skinny Lady requires a tobacco offering if you use it in her presence.”

  Tia removed two cigarettes and pushed up from her chair. Lucia started to rush to her aid but Tia held a hand up. “I got it.”

  She lit two cigarettes, placing one in an incense holder at the base of the tall Santa Muerte statue. She returned to her chair with the other, watching as Lucia meticulously crushed herbs with a mortar and pestle. Tia licked her thumb and counted out a thousand dollars in worn bills. She fanned them on the table and used the glass candleholder to weigh them down, then banded the remainder of the bills and tucked them back into her purse.

  Fifteen minutes later, Tia departed with a warm hug from Lucia. The sunlight was blinding after the dark interior of the botanica and brought a stabbing pain in her head. When she finally got her wraparound sunglasses on, Alvarez was at her side. He reached for her bag but she yanked it away.

  “I got it, I got it,” she said. “Just get me home before Luis starts whining like a little bitch.”

  “He’s already called once,” Alvarez said, opening the car door for her.

  “See? I told you.” Tia slipped into the cool interior of the car and leaned back in the seat. It was heavenly.

  After Alvarez got in the car, they drove in silence. Tia was tired. She’d like to have a nap that afternoon, if she had time. She thought about her visit to the botanica. So many good things had come her way when she began worshipping Santa Muerte. When she placed the bones of her dead child on that altar, it was like plugging the passcode into a vault door. The world opened up to her and she found her little niche in providing girls to El Clavo. Although it was not like running a crew again, it was something. She was earning money and she was in the life.

  The idea that she could buy such power by offering Holy Death a cigarette and an anointed candle was laughable. She’d thought the puppy, an actual living creature, might get her something. Maybe it had. She wasn’t locked up and she wasn’t dead.

  She’d received a response to her prayers in the botanica. At one point, she’d cracked her eyes open and was certain the jeweled eyes in that skull were looking directly at her. Santa Muerte was telling her that only blood bought power. A black candle might buy you protection from an enemy’s bad juju but that was it. If you wanted big things, you made big offerings. She needed to offer blood.

  Tonight, before Luis whisked her across the border, Santa Muerte would have her blood.

  43

  Ty was secured around a support pole, his hands cuffed in front of him. To conserve energy, he sat down and leaned forward, resting his shoulder against the pole. The man assigned to watch him played on his phone, took a few calls, and smoked the remainder of a crumpled joint he pulled from his shirt pocket. Ty bided his time. The cuffs weren’t a problem but he couldn’t get out of them under the watchful eye of his guard, a man they called Ramon.

  Ramon’s phone rang and he must have been receiving instructions because all of his responses were limited to a single word. When the call ended, he checked Ty’s cuffs and verified they were secure. Satisfied, he left through the wide rolling door and Ty heard his boots crunching on the stone road. Unsure of how much time he had, Ty reached for the cuff of his jeans and groped around. A non-metallic handcuff key was inserted into a slit in the hem. Were he to be wanded or pass through a metal detector, the key woul
dn’t draw any attention. A single stitch kept the key from slipping loose. Ty tugged on the key and the stitch broke easily.

  He deftly unlocked the cuffs and stood, rubbing his wrists. He rushed toward the sliding door, taking cover and glancing out. He heard metallic banging in the distance, then found his guard headed in his direction with a steel drum balanced on his shoulder like a keg of beer.

  The man staggered toward the door, grunting from the effort of balancing the awkward barrel. Ramon wore a handgun on his right hip, the holster exposed. If Ty could get control of the gun before the man set the barrel down, that would be ideal. Above all, he didn’t want any shots fired. That would only draw unwanted company.

  As soon as Ramon was through the door, just as Ty prepared to step in behind him and slip the gun from his holster, it all went sideways. Ramon immediately noticed the missing prisoner, the cuffs in a pile at the base of the post. He went to set the barrel down so he could get a hand on his gun. Anticipating this, Ty charged at him, trapping the barrel between his body and Ramon’s. Forced to backpedal, Ramon had both hands on the barrel, trying to push back against his attacker. It was pointless. Ty hit him like it was football practice and Ramon was a blocking sled, shoving with short, choppy steps.

  Ramon lost his balance and fell backward, his hands staying on the barrel as he tried to prevent it from rolling over his face. Unfortunately for him, that left everything below the waist unprotected. Ty dropped on the man’s groin, crushing it beneath his knee. There was a hard exhalation and Ramon’s body tensed, the barrel rolling noisily away from them.

  Ty had a hand on Ramon’s gun now and yanked it free of the kydex holster. Ramon was slowed by the groin strike but not out of the fight. This was clearly not his first brawl. He clutched desperately for control of his gun. Ty shifted his body, throwing a knee across Ramon’s neck and cutting off his air. That worked. Ramon’s hands flew up to shove at Ty’s knee, attempting to move it enough to open his airway.