by Carey Lewis
The lady dug into her purse and handed Lex the phone over her shoulder, “cream and sugar you said?” It made Lex smile, this woman starting to get her nerve back.
“You’re doing good,” Lex said, taking the coffee, “show you how good I am, I’m going to let you choose the music. Now we’re going to leave this lot and I want you to take a right out of it. Go on to the next lights after these and we’ll make a left. Got it?”
The car turned on and the lady reversed out of the spot, drove to the exit and made a right.
He decided he had to find out if Jamal was lying. To do that, he was going to have to talk to one of these witnesses Jamal said wasn’t going to talk, see where that got him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Jamal sat at the table, the gin in front of him, listening to the Boppers outside in the backyard. He wondered if he would really take them, actually do the trade if it came down to it. Wondered if his blood lust for Lex had reached that point.
He watched them reenacting their night to each other, looking like kids practicing kung-fu in the yard, beating up some imaginary bad guys.
Jamal said, “I don’t think he’s going to go for it.”
“What else can you do?”
“He’s crazy but he’s not stupid. If he goes for it, it’s not going to be as easy as ‘here I am.’”
“Okay, so he doesn’t do that, what does he do?”
“Provided he goes for it?”
The Boss nodded.
“Say he takes the bait, believes me just a little bit.”
“Or wants to.”
“Or wants to believe me. He’s not going to take my word for it. He’s going to want to back up my story.”
“Who can back it up?”
“Max is in jail singing like a canary but he’s not stupid enough to try him. Only one I said is Kenzie if he’s stupid enough to try that.”
“Just said he’s not stupid.”
“But crazy.”
Jamal grabbed the gun and phone and left the house.
He made her drive past Kenzie’s house, slowly, making sure there weren’t any cops lingering about. Lex laughed to himself, picturing the cops telling the family ‘don’t worry, he’d be stupid to come back, you’ll be safe.’
It was the point he knew she wouldn’t like. This woman that said her name was Mary that worked at an advertising firm, writing the catchy little slang under the pictures in the newspaper, supposed to get you to put it down right away and go buy a fleece.
“Mary, here comes the part you’re not going to like. I’m going to need you to get in the trunk.”
“I’m not getting in the trunk.”
“Mary, we’ve done good up until now, don’t make the end the part where you do something stupid. I’m going to need you to get in the trunk. I’m going to take the keys and I’ll phone someone, tell them where you’re at.”
She didn’t like it at all, but she climbed in the trunk, Lex even giving her the coffee that was meant for Roger to keep in there with her, thought that would make her happy. Roger was the one trying to get her fired she told him. Office politics man, Lex didn’t think he could hack that lifestyle.
If what Jamal was saying was true, he didn’t want Lex for putting people in trunks, he just wanted his gun. If Jamal was lying, well, no harm in adding to the list.
There was a tiny lot for a park a couple of streets down from Kenzie’s house, that’s where he made Mary pull over and that’s where he put her in the trunk, shoved her keys in his pocket.
What he should’ve done is take her purse, what he could do then was go back to her place, get her address from her license, go back to his original plan of waiting for all this to die down a little. She’d come back home and see him sitting on the couch, tell her to be cool, they could have some fun. She probably had some nice furniture too, woman like that.
He walked by Kenzie’s house, seeing the blood stain on the porch, front door wide open. He tried looking through the window without turning his head as he went by. Saw some movement in there, in the living room, looked like three people. He guessed they were all crying.
He went two houses down, went down the driveway to the backyard, opened the gate, went along the chain link fence and climbed it into the other yard.
Looked around, saw a little swing set off in the corner, saw the bushes on the back fence that went into Kenzie’s yard. Looked at the back of the house, not seeing any movement, walked across the yard and saw the fence run between the two houses. He’d rather enter her backyard from here, be right at the house. Come up from the back, someone maybe getting water in the kitchen would see him. So he climbed the fence at the side of the house and moved around to the back.
They had a little deck attached, some sliding glass doors to the house, table and chairs with a barbecue. The last time Hank and him had a barbecue…
He walked onto the deck, carefully looking into the house to make sure he wasn’t seen and couldn’t believe it when the sliding door actually slid open. Maybe his luck was turning around.
He went inside.
They sat around the living room, all of them exhausted. There weren’t any more tears to shed. Kenzie looked at her parents, saw the red puffy cheeks, the bloodshot eyes. They were sitting on the couch, her mom having gone through a box of tissues already, working on her second. Her dad, sitting beside her mom, arm around the back of the couch to console her.
Kenzie watched them from the chair, not saying anything because they didn’t have to. They both knew what the other needed and didn’t need to communicate it. She had that with Zax. It seemed so long ago. Him trying to get her into war movies was the only thing he seemed to not get, but for everything else, they had it.
“My parents ever did that they’d probably still be together.”
She looked up and there was Lex, standing in the doorway, holding a takeaway cup of coffee and a gun. She looked over at her parents, for some reason thinking they’d know what to do. They just sat there, staring at him with their red faces and swollen eyes.
“I know I’m the last person you want to see right now, but there’s some things I think we need to clear up,” he said, coming into the room, putting the coffee on the table before sitting on the arm of the chair Kenzie was in.
She saw the grip of a gun sticking out from the back of his pants. She looked up to him, careful not to let him know she saw it, that she wanted to grab it.
“I was told you guys are going to testify against me,” he said.
“You’re goddamned right we are,” her father said, leaning forward on the couch like he wanted to attack.
Kenzie turned her attention back to the gun. The way he was sitting on the arm of the chair, the way she moved her hand off it when he sat down so he wouldn’t sit on her hand, the way she tucked it beside her, all of it leaving an awkward angle to reach for the gun.
“See, that’s what I was afraid of. I was actually told you wouldn’t testify. You guys were too scared to.”
“I ain’t afraid of you you little shit,” her dad said, the anger pouring out of him. Kenzie saw how bad he wanted to rip Lex’s face off. She wanted him to shut up, what was he hoping to prove?
“Mr. Sandoval, I don’t think I care for your attitude. All things considered, I think I’ve been nice up to now.”
She saw him lean forward to emphasize the point to her dad, saw the grip sticking out a little bit more. Enough to grab now. She wondered if she could get the gun from his pants and shoot it before he could put a shot in her dad. There was no way, Lex had the gun pointed right at him.
“I want you to know I’m not the bad guy, you’re the one forcing my hand,” Lex said, standing up, taking away Kenzie’s moment. He took a step into the center of the room.
“What I got to do now, I got to take Kenzie with me.”
“Like hell you are.”
“Listen now,” Lex dug into his pocket and took out a cell phone, laid it on the coffee table. “Take this p
hone and you’re going to call the last number that called,” he took the other gun out of his pants, a gun in each hand. “You tell—”
“We’re not doing a goddamn thing,” her dad started yelling, coming off the couch and Lex shot him in the belly with the gun he just took out. He fell back on the couch as Kenzie and her mom jumped, letting out a little gasp of air.
“Mrs. Sandoval, you seem more reasonable,” Lex hit a button on the gun and the clip fell out, bounced on the carpet. “You’re going to call the number on the phone, tell the guy that answers where his gun and phone are, you understand?” He put the gun without a clip on the coffee table beside the phone, picked up the clip from the carpet and put it in his pocket.
Kenzie watched her mom, frozen in shock, new tears in her eyes, nod to Lex. Watched Lex smile, said “good. Now your daughter’s going to be safe. You tell the guy that answers the phone that she’s going to be safe. I returned his gun because I want him to do what he says. You make sure he understands that part. Make sure he does what he said he’d do.”
She watched her dad groan on the couch, moving side to side.
“Mrs. Sandoval, I’m going to need to borrow your car. Do you have the keys on you?”
“They’re hanging up. By the door,” Kenzie said. Lex smiled at her.
“Good. Okay Sandovals, we’re going to get out of your hair now, okay? Remember what I said? Why don’t you say it back to me so I know?”
“Lex, let’s just go, okay? She’s had enough.”
She watched Lex look at her, then back to her mom, said “okay,” then grabbed Kenzie by the wrist with his free hand, the other still holding the gun, and led her out of the living room, into the hallway by the front door where he grabbed the keys.
He drove slowly down the street, looking everywhere he could for Lex, thinking maybe he was wrong, or maybe he beat him here. He kept the phone in one hand, looked at it every couple seconds, careful not to miss the call.
Jamal was driving beside the park, past the little lot when he saw a trunk pop open and a woman crawled out, covered in coffee, throwing herself onto the pavement. He stopped the Jeep, saw the woman get to her feet, looking more aggravated than scared.
She saw him, almost like she was reading his mind, said “they got a lever in there now opens the trunk from the inside. Can you call the cops?”
Jamal knew he was right and it scared him. Lex was already at Kenzie’s. He sped to the house in the borrowed Jeep, saw his car still there, felt a twinge of pain looking at the dented hood. He was a little upset no one had bothered to move it.
He got out of the Jeep, was about to go to the house when he saw Kenzie come out onto the porch, Lex behind her. Saw Lex smile. Saw the .45 he had rested on her shoulder, pointed at her head.
“You lied to me Jamal,” he said, “saying they weren’t going to testify. Daddy in there wanted to tear my face off.”
“We didn’t start off on a good basis of trust.”
“That we didn’t,” Lex said, moving Kenzie down the stairs of the porch, onto the walkway, the gun still at her head. “You going to tell me I started it because I lied to you first?”
“Seems I don’t have to.”
“Your gun and phone are in the house. I want you to live up to your end. Also a bleeding daddy in there you might want to have looked at.”
“He’s alive?”
“Last I saw him.”
Jamal watched Lex slowly shuffle Kenzie to the side, to the driveway, toward the car.
“Getting out of town? You can leave the girl, not sure she wants to go.”
“She’s going to be my guide. You know it’s illegal to use your phone while driving? How else you supposed to look at a map?”
“You pull over.”
“That’s a waste of time.”
He saw Kenzie’s mom come out of the house to stand on the porch. Saw her swollen face, the fresh tears on her cheeks, the gun in her hands. His gun. Lex didn’t turn around, thinking Jamal was the threat, wanting to keep Kenzie between Jamal and himself.
Jamal tried to lock eyes with her, tried to shake his head to tell her not to do what he was afraid she was going to do. But she didn’t look, kept her eyes dead center on the guy that had her daughter.
He watched her raise the gun and at that moment, saw the clip was missing. His eyes focused on the hollow area in the grip. He watched her take in a breath and squeeze the trigger. Watched the explosion come from the barrel.
Lex’s shoulders jerked forward pushing Kenzie away. The gun in his hand going off beside her face. They both fell to the ground, Kenzie landing and rolling away on the grass. Jamal drew his gun and ran forward, kicked the gun out of Lex’s hand, heard the clicks of the empty gun, looked up and saw Mrs. Sandoval still trying to fire the weapon.
He went over to Kenzie, rolled her over, saw the gunpowder marks on her face as she screamed and cried. Then he saw Kenzie’s mom drop the gun and rush over to her daughter, collapsed on the ground, taking Kenzie in her arms.
Jamal went over to Lex laying on his stomach. He wasn’t saying anything, wasn’t moving. Jamal looked at his back, saw the blood starting to form between his shoulder blades. He rolled him over, knelt beside him, surprised he was still alive.
“What happened?” Lex asked.
“You’ve been shot.”
“I didn’t think they had a gun.”
“She used mine.”
“The mom?”
Jamal nodded.
“I took the bullets out.”
“Looks like you left one in the chamber.”
“I can’t move.”
“I got a phone call to make,” Jamal stood up, saw the fear in Lex’s eyes as he stared up at him. Jamal took out the phone, dialed 911 and reported the shooting. He looked down at Lex the entire time, wondered if he would live through it, thinking he’d be paralyzed if he did.
“Jamal. Jamal,” Lex said after Jamal hung up. He looked at him. “Can you stay with me? Until they get here? Stay with me.”
“No,” Jamal said, then went into the house to check on Kenzie’s dad. He went inside and saw him sitting on the couch, holding his wounded belly.
“She get him?” he asked Jamal.
“Between the shoulder blades.”
“Good. I told her he left one in the chamber after he shot me. Go get that son of a bitch I said.”
“She did.”
He wondered what a good guy would do in this situation, stay with the dad, stay with Lex, or stay with Kenzie and her mom.
“You got a beer I can have?” Jamal asked.
“In the fridge, can I get one?”
Jamal went to the fridge and grabbed two beers, came back out, handed one to Kenzie’s dad and sat on the chair, waiting for the boys in blue to arrive. He decided he didn’t care what a good guy would do.
THE END
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About the Author
Carey Lewis traded a mundane job in Toronto, Canada, in favor of a backpacker life of nomadic travel. He can be spotted with his beautiful fiance somewhere in Southeast Asia, drinking coffee and scribbling furiously into a notepad while cursing his credit card debt and writing about bad guys that are cooler than he’ll ever be.
Thank you for reading Warriors, part of the Gutter Dogs series. Gaining exposure as an independent author relies mostly on word-of-mouth, so if you have the time and inclination, please consider leaving a short review wherever you can.
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The “Gutter Dogs” Series:
The Split
Transformers
Underdogs
The Van Halen Guitar
Warriors
Generation Z
A Life Untold
Summer of 94
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
MR. MIRACLE
THE PLAN
WAS TO rip off things the lady didn’t know were missing, which meant getting it pawned right away. If she didn’t know they were gone, she wouldn’t be calling the cops. The items wouldn’t be on a list of things pawn owners should watch out for. LaGarrett wasn’t sure the police even made a list, but like all things, he wanted to be careful.
He only brought a few items, some signed trading cards, a signed football and baseball, to see how much he’d get for those. If he got a fair price, he’d bring the other stuff in.
LaGarrett took his Gram-mama’s car, the little Dodge Neon that had beads running along the back of the seat, and parked it across the street from ‘Savory Trade.’ He liked to divide his loot between the different shops, even going as far as an hour away, all in the name of safety. Can’t have some black man going into a pawn shop on the regular like he was cashing work place checks. That’d raise suspicion. No, you had to split up your winnings.
It wasn’t a good part of town. The buildings were old, looking like they were from war time. The ones that weren’t looked like they were. The ones that looked taken care of still looked cheap, like the builders knew this wasn’t an area to put any care into.
He watched from across the street, smoking his joint, looking at the one story building with bars on the windows. These pawn shops, not using the word pawn in their signs, all of them preferring to use the word trade. It’s not that they were wrong, LaGarrett was hoping to trade his shit for some cash, but everyone knew what they were, why bother pretending?
The people staggering in the streets looked homeless or like they were in the middle of a three day bender. Beside Savory Trade there was a corner store with people coming out with their booze in paper bags. The ones that didn’t look homeless moved around like they didn’t want to be here any longer than they had to.
