Eraserheads

by Brick

  He cut his eyes at me and then addressed the chick beside me, who was grinning hard. “Go to the front and hit Seymore on the cell to see if everything is still clear in the neighborhood. Once it is, tell him to set up his security for this place. And you do your thing, like you always do, with setting it up, a’ight?”

  “Already on it, boss man. He said it’s clear,” Reagan confirmed.

  “Cool. Hey, Lelo. Since ya hungry, go do a solid and hit that corner store and bring back some grub for her. We’re going to be a minute,” Mr. Asian, their leader, said, not out of rudeness or harshness, but with a cool, light authoritative air.

  “Sí, I’m on it. I’ll give you the rundown when I get back, then,” Lelo shouted back. Then I heard him jet out the back and slam the door behind him.

  Banging could be heard in the kitchen, so I knew the other one was still in there, doing his thing and making my stomach clench from anxiety at these strangers taking over. I shook my head, and my gaze locked on my front door. I started to walk around Mr. Asian, but he stopped me by grabbing my arm.

  Dark, almond-shaped eyes bore into me, and Mr. Asian gripped my arm tight. “Whoa. Where you going?”

  Yanking my arm out of his hold, I sized him up. “Trying to see how you got in my place. My weak-ass pop put that bolt in. Made sure it was armored and couldn’t be picked.”

  “Ah, well, I picked it. It is a good lock, but not anymore. I’ll replace it,” he said, then took two strides and dropped down on my couch.

  I was speechless. I went to the door, turned the knob, and then sighed when I saw the bolt lock was broken. I slammed the door shut and used the bottom lock to secure it.

  “My girl Code would have been here, but she had other things to handle, but to answer you, Nia—” he began to explain.

  “Smiley. My name is Smiley,” I interrupted, then crossed my arms while standing wide legged.

  “A’ight, Smiley. In the back is Stitch, as you heard. He’s my muscle, him and Lelo. Both are my IT and HR department. They are also useful with the rigging shit, which is why your lights are back on, and they’re good with handling people. The little homie with the laugh is Reagan. She and my boy Seymore—you’ll meet him later—are good with car repair, car detailing, and attention to detail when doing what we do with electronics and other illegal activity,” he explained as he watched me. I heard the pride in his voice.

  He sat up and rested his arms on his knees, then continued. “My girl, more like a sis to me in this game, is Code. She’s the missing one. She is the money and finances. She’s also my copartner in this. She’s good with rides, as well, and, as I’m learning, other things, such as understanding the specifics of some weapons.”

  All of this was crazy to me, but I needed to know the specifics. “Okay. And you are?”

  “Chill and have a seat, Smiley,” the leader of this strange crew ordered with bass in his voice.

  I shook my head, took a seat like he’d asked, more like demanded. I didn’t want another gun drawn unless I was going to be the one doing it. Thanks to my crazy-ass pop being in the military, he used to teach me how to shoot. Two of the gifts he forgot to grab when he was leaving us were the shotgun under the couch and the 9 mm hidden upstairs.

  “They call me Auto. I know it all, from tech to fixing up cars, to logistics and more. We steal rides, chop ’em up, and sell them wherever we want. We also go deeper, which is why we looked you up. Not only are you a beast in how you steal rides, but I’ve peeped how well you work with hitting up those ATMs too. Looked deeper, Miss Hacker, and I saw you got a PayPal account through which you route money you steal from online. Your coding is good, but we can make it better,” he said, giving me the rundown.

  I watched this guy speak with his hands and hit me with a spell so smooth that it had me almost believing the whole bullshit laid out in front of me.

  Auto tilted his head to the side and watched me as he thumbed his nose. “How you jack rides is good, but again, we can teach you to do it better. We need you because we lost one of us already, and in this game, you need to have a banging team in order to stay ahead of the Feds, not just the regular cops. How we do things, how we groove is why we were able to get you out. We got people in high places, which is also why we can assure your freedom and make sure the shorty who set you up takes the fall. This is not a setup. This is family. We erase people’s identities for a living and make extra dough with jacking rides. So we don’t have time to play games. Do you understand me now?”

  I sat and thought quietly. Watched him as he studied me. So there wasn’t a setup going down on his end. All he’d said seemed to be legit. Some of the suspicion I had melted away. Enough to make me consider his offer.

  “I think I understand you now. So out of this, I get my freedom and I gotta pay you back?”

  “Yup, and if you decide to stay, this house you live in, you don’t have to worry about paying no more. That job you lost because of your rookie behavior, you don’t have to worry about it anymore, and if you wanted, that degree you were working on, you can finish just because. All of that and more is what you get for rolling with us. This all right here won’t be gems and gold, and shit won’t be some easy-peasy type of deal. But I can promise you won’t be sorry with how the rewards come through, and with them, you got a team, a family that will hold you down and look out for you. So are you done running? Can we get to some real talk now?”

  The scent of food cooking wafted my way. I heard the back door open and then the sound of Lelo’s and Reagan’s voices, and then a new voice chimed in about the ramp at the back of the house working out for him. I gazed at the dude who sat on my couch as if it were his, and then I looked around, feeling a weight lift off me. If I trusted them, that meant my life would be changing, and with this change, I’d have new people that, he’d said, would be like my family. I was unsure about it all, but, shit, anything was better than being locked up.

  “I’m done running. I’m down. What do I need to know?” Exhaling, I relaxed and pulled my knees up to my chest, ready to learn more about a crew that until today I had no clue existed in the streets of ATL.

  Chapter 6

  Code

  My cousin Frederick walked into the dining room. “Papa, we just got word the promised shipment has been delivered,” he informed my grandfather.

  All his grandchildren called him Papa. The old man sat at the head of the dinner table, dressed like he belonged in a corporate meeting. Food had been laid out: baked chicken, steamed green beans, yellow Spanish rice, and corn bread. The smell of apple pie contrasted with the other spices floating through the air. I’d barely touched my food.

  The bloodred, tailor-made dress shirt Papa had on told of his mood. An array of colors seemed to swirl in his light brown eyes whenever his mood was iffy. The look in his eyes right now was redolent of murder. Something was bothering him. I just didn’t know what. Though he was close to seventy in age, his body put those of some younger males to shame. The old man had always taken care of himself, and old age didn’t stop him. It seemed only to fuel his fire.

  I looked down at my phone to see a message from Auto telling me that they had gotten the girl and that she seemed to be on board. Apparently, she was a little jumpy, but he said she was willing. I nodded and then sent a response to let him know I’d gotten his message.

  “Have you checked the merchandise, mijo?” the old man asked Frederick.

  “Sí, Papa. All is in order.”

  “Then go make yourself presentable for dinner.” Papa was big on presentation no matter what was going on.

  My cousin Frederick did an about-face like the good soldier he was and left the room. The scar on his neck reminded us all of what would happen if you crossed our grandfather.

  While the old man kept talking about plans and giving orders, my attention wandered, but when he started to talk about the man who’d supplied him with the merchandise he was excited about, my focus became riveted on his words. After all, I had
been sitting around, trying to get information on this topic. With a little bit of info, I could know how I wanted to proceed. Having that in my possession could work out well for my team.

  “May I speak, Papa?” I asked, causing everyone to get quiet.

  All eyes turned to me, including my mother’s. She sat like the world belonged to her. Papa wasn’t big on letting women run anything in his organization, but my mama had been his favorite daughter. In order to become the old man’s favorite, you had to do something special. I didn’t know what it was my mother had done, but because she’d done it, she had a lot of clout in our family.

  People often claimed my mother and I could pass for twins. I begged to differ. It had nothing to do with the fact that she was darker than I was. Most people were often confused when she started to speak fluent Spanish. They oftentimes assumed she was a black American. But she had been born and bred in Cuba. Although her hair was thick, and you could clearly see the African part of her Cuban ancestry. Her locks were long and wild, cascading down to her ample backside. She lauded her own beauty. If anybody even hinted around that she was anything less than God’s gift to man, she would likely kill them without a thought.

  I didn’t have her dark beauty or her long hair. I mean, I had hair, but it was nowhere near as long as my mother’s. I had Papa’s complexion. I had his eyes. And if pushed to the point of no return, I had the old man’s temper too. Our familia often claimed that was why I was his favorite. I knew differently. I was his favorite because at a very young age, I’d killed someone no one else could for him. I was his favorite because anything he asked me to do, I did without question.

  Years and years of training with the males in my family had made me as ruthless as they were. I had had few friends while I was growing up, because of who my family was. And those who had befriended me had done so only because of the status and rep it would give them. That was why when I’d walked into Auto’s shop that first time, it had been refreshing to be treated like I was just a regular person. No pretenses. No fear behind the eyes of the people, no people who were scared to even breathe out of fear of my family name. No, Auto had had no idea who I was or to whom I was related.

  And he still had no idea. To him, I was just Code. To our makeshift family, I was just Code. They treated me like I was human, the same as them. I’d told them enough so they could shoot questions at me that I could answer easily. The team rarely trusted people they didn’t know. So when they opened their hearts and doors to me, I walked in, knowing I would always protect them. I would always keep this, the true part of who I was, away from them.

  Yeah, Auto knew the old man was rolling in dough, but he had no idea who my papa was. I intended to keep it that way.

  “Speak, Maria Rosa,” Papa told me, pulling me from my thoughts.

  Old man had never given me a sobriquet. So he would never call me Code. He believed that a person should be addressed with respect, and that meant using the person’s birth name. To him, when someone called you by a nickname, it meant he or she didn’t think much of you. It was easy for the old man to feel disrespected.

  I nodded, with a smile. “I wanted to know about the merchandise, Papa. What is it? Is it something I can play with?” I then smiled my most sinister smile, knowing it would please him to see the devilment playing behind my eyes.

  “It’s been a while since you’ve come to me as such. Your little friends at the auto shop not so much fun anymore?” he asked me.

  I had to stifle the roll of my eyes. He looked down on the fact that I hung with what he considered to be such a low class of people.

  “Does that mean yes or no, Papa?” I asked plainly. My voice clearly showed I wasn’t impressed with his insult about my friends.

  “Do you sass me, Maria Rosa?”

  “Do you deny me the pleasure of new toys, Papa?”

  At that moment Frederick walked back into the room. Took a seat on the left side of Papa. It wasn’t lost on any of us that the woman who used to be Papa’s mouthpiece was missing. I had to wonder where good ole Lilith was. Wondered where Papa had sent her sniffing off to. Lilith was one of Papa’s trained bitches. I called her a bitch because Papa had her trained to act as any good guard dog should.

  I could see my other family members watching us go back and forth, like we were playing in a tennis match. None of them would be fool enough to go head to head with the old man. His word was law. But I knew what line to cross and which ones not to. The old man regarded me closely. He sat back in his chair, back erect, eyes burning another hole in me.

  I kept smiling as I sipped the wine.

  “Do not forget where your true family lies, Maria Rosa,” Papa said.

  “I never have.”

  “That also means, don’t forget where your loyalty truly lies.”

  “I know, Papa. May I see the merchandise or not?”

  Frederick hadn’t even been sitting down for a minute when Papa ordered, “Frederick, take Maria Rosa to see the shipment.”

  Without contempt, Frederick stood. I kissed my mother’s cheeks, then did the same to my five aunts before making my exit. A few of my male cousins stared at me with disdain. Not even they could get away with challenging the old man like I did.

  Frederick and I headed outside. Papa’s estate was lush with green grass and meticulously landscaped shrubbery. If you looked close enough, you could see the camouflaged sentries in the trees and on the roof of the sprawling Spanish hacienda. The wind was blowing hard enough to almost knock me on my ass, and it felt hot, because the day had been sizzling. Trees rocked and swayed like a church choir. Dogs could be heard in the distance. Birds chirped and played about.

  I looked at the watch on my wrist as we walked. I had to guesstimate the time it would take me to get back to Clayton County at this time of night. All I really needed to do was make sure the shipment Papa had was the same as the one we’d picked up in Vegas.

  Frederick walked in silence. The stoic look he wore always tickled me. His bald head, perfectly aligned goatee, and onyx-black eyes were enough to drive many women mad. He had his share of them. Was a badass when it came to street fights and gun play, but he wouldn’t stand up to the old man to save his life. Well, actually he had once. The scar decorating his neck proved he wouldn’t do it again. Still, I needed him to talk so I could get the info I was seeking.

  I asked my cousin, “Why don’t you ever speak up to the old man, Freddie?”

  “Not everyone can be his favorite, Maria,” he answered, Cuban accent thick.

  He had no idea just what I had to endure to be Papa’s favorite. The paper cut–like keloids on my back started to itch in remembrance of the times I’d defied the old man.

  “Judging by the scar on your neck, I’d say you are a close second,” I teased.

  “Fuck you, Rosa.”

  I smiled coolly as the man who towered over me in height glared down at me.

  “Now, now, don’t start to become like Uncle. May he not rest in peace. I’m not with that incest shit, Freddie,” I said, then eyed him like I was considering it.

  One of our uncles was a serious pervert. There was no limit to what his perverse nature would cause him to do . . . even to family.

  “Fuck outta here,” he spat.

  I cackled. Freddie looked as if he was about to be sick. By then we had reached an old barnlike structure about fifty or so yards behind the old man’s safe house. Freddie yanked the door to the building open.

  “You’re sick in the head, Rosa,” Freddie sneered. “No wonder the old man dotes on you.”

  All I did was laugh. I liked to mess with people mentally. I got a kick out of seeing just how far I could take them out of their element.

  “Oh, shut up, Frederick,” I finally told him. “Show me the stuff.”

  My cousin shook his head as he walked over to crates that had been branded like cattle with the initials BK. I looked inside of one of the crates and pulled out a small clear box that was just like the ones
the team and I had hidden.

  I feigned ignorance and asked, “What’s so special about these bullets?”

  “You won’t believe it unless you see it for yourself.”

  There didn’t seem to be many boxes there, so I had to wonder if we’d taken the bulk of the supplier’s orders. The supplier would have to be stupid to put all their eggs in one basket.

  “Where did they come from?” I asked.

  “Was at the gun show when ole boy who made these showed how they worked. These shits tear flesh clean off the bone and shit. The internal damage these motherfuckers do is loco, bella. He designed it, he said, to take out all vital organs.”

  “So if I aim this, say, at your heart, you’re done?”

  He nodded as he pulled a key from his pocket and opened the small box of bullets in my hand. I loaded my gun quickly. I had to keep up the façade. I walked outside and headed over to where test dummies had been set up. Papa always kept things about for us to use for target practice. Just for the hell of it, I let the gun roar. Aimed the first shot at the heart and ripped the fabric and internal stuffing from the dummy. I could only imagine what these bullets would do to human flesh.

  “I want to meet the man who made these,” I told Freddie.

  He was already shaking his head and backing away. “No, bella. You know Papa don’t like women in his business.”

  “All you have to do is point me in the right direction.”

  “Why?”

  “Any man with a mind like this, I need to know.”

  Freddie shrugged nonchalantly. “Why?”

  “He specializes in bullets. I specialize in using them. Match made in heaven.”

  He vehemently shook his head no.

  I turned the gun on him.

  He bristled, then drew just as quickly on me. The only thing I hated more than being lied to was being told no.

  “You’re going to shoot me because I’m trying to keep the old man off your back?” Freddie said calmly.

  “No, I’m going to shoot you for having the audacity to say no to me.”