Eraserheads

by Brick

  Thinking about him, I shook my head. Sometimes it was like he was bipolar. Evil. He would cook for us while ignoring us, and then he would hurt my mom again, and even rape her. I hated it and was glad he was now maggot food. Wiping my mouth with my sleeve, I shifted my position in my hideout and fell asleep. After that meal, I didn’t collect much information, if any at all. I just heard snippets about the people on that whole side of the block, including those in the town house, being some type of street kings. The girl from the restaurant didn’t come my way, but I watched her leave the place and go to that town house.

  It wasn’t until I was back in ATL that I ended up seeing her again. This time, she approached me as I worked at Morton’s. She sat outside the restaurant in a pimped-out speedster. It was black, with silver stripes. On its chassis were lights that flashed from time to time like lightning. At that time, I didn’t even know she was the chick from New York. To me, she was just some crazy female who watched me and who then followed me toward the MARTA bus depot.

  “Hey, Mami. Come talk to me,” she said as she sat in the speedster. She gave a whistle.

  A frown spread across my face; then my lip curled upward while I sucked my teeth. “Ew, nah. I’m good.” I kept going.

  I heard a car door slam, and this was followed by the sound of feet approaching me. I whipped around and stared the girl in the face.

  “You need to chill,” she said with a laugh.

  Hair up in a ponytail bun, she stood with her arms crossed over her fancy-looking white shirt and gold mini jacket, which she wore with white leggings and gold heels. Something about how her eyes seemed to change, like she would eat me out if it weren’t for something else, had me feeling mad defensive.

  “Yeah? You ain’t gay?” I spat out at her, just to see if I could piss her off like she was doing to me. I really didn’t care if she was or not. Wasn’t something that bothered me.

  Old girl stared me down with controlled annoyance; then, in the blink of an eye, the stare was gone, and she gave me a pretty smile and rested a hand on her hip. “Depending on my mood, I am.”

  Say what? I could not believe she had said it like that. It made me laugh, actually, and had me crossing my arms in the same way she had.

  Looked her up and down and shook my head in amusement. “You ain’t black. What are you?”

  “Oh, for real? You’re just going to come at me like this, Mami?” she said with a roll of her eyes. Abruptly shrugging, she gave a dramatic sigh and rolled her eyes again. “Bullshit . . . I am black by race,” she added in annoyance.

  How she was acting had me laughing to myself. This was what she got. You didn’t come at people the way she did and think they would hop on a train with you. I didn’t know her and didn’t care to.

  “A’ight. Well, I’m trying to figure you out, ’cause I don’t know who the hell you are and why you in my face like this. I’m not ya friend,” I said, then turned away.

  “Wait! Malta sea! This is important. My name is Maria Rosa. I remember you from NYC. Been following you for a long time now. I’m your cousin, and you need to watch yourself so you don’t get caught by the pack of wolves that is mi familia,” she blurted out, pulling me by my arm to stop me.

  The brand my father had given me with that ring when I was a child—an O with a crown in the middle of it—was what had given me away back in NYC. Today I had it nicely tatted over with a tattoo that started at my rib cage and swirled over my hip. It was funny to think back on when I first met Code, because that conversation was what changed everything for us. It was also why we repeated the same words later, when I met her again, for the “first time.”

  Everything was a show.

  I really didn’t know she was running with Auto back then, and I didn’t know anything about him. So when I ended up meeting his crew, what a surprise it was when I saw my “cousin” chilling among the misfit team. The shock was genuine and true. Now everything was coming full circle.

  I left the past behind and focused on what I was doing. Getting into the tech school was easy breezy. When I headed to the computer lab, all I had to do was say I had forgotten my key card and hella dudes came my way, offering to help. I now sat in front of a computer, clicking away at my keyboard, hacking in to send an encrypted e-mail message to Boots. What I had been carrying around was too much to keep with me. Before coming to the computer lab, I had hid it in this school, which was the perfect spot. I let him know that everything was precious and that the bag I’d put it in had my detailed instructions in it.

  I glanced at my cell, waited on Code to text me back. I was worried. In so many words, she had told me that she was being held against her will. Slowly, I was beginning to understand her lingo, a secret language she had had years to perfect.

  Code where? was all I had texted back, and I got nothing in return. The waiting made me nervous.

  I hit SEND on my e-mail, and Boots now had the information on where I had hid my stuff. I had got a bag from the tech school’s gift shop. And I had put the bag in the ceiling of the women’s bathroom. A buzz on my cell had me glancing down, and relief hit me.

  Code: Can’t say. You know why.

  She was right; I did. She was determined to keep me safe.

  Code: The wolf is pissed, and the three little pigs won’t be enough for his meal. Goldie is safer with the bears. Go to Papa’s. Trust me. Do it and don’t argue. Lay your head where you can sleep in peace.

  I read her message over and over again before wiping it clean. It took me a minute, but I knew the tales The Three Little Pigs and Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Code was telling me to stay with Auto. After everything that had gone down during my time running with the Eraserheads, he was the only one Code trusted with my life. So I thought on it.

  Before she’d gone ghost, she had explained that Auto’s home could not be found, for good reason. That even if her old man was watching, and Code knew he was, Auto’s home would still never be tracked down. I didn’t know why she felt so strongly that Auto’s home would never be found, but I trusted her word. I remembered when I had stayed there and how I had been cautious with my leaving. My home was also safe, but the cops had watched me back when I had a case. But now that was cleared up, so I was sure that it was safe there as well.

  Every action I took had to be on point at this time.

  I had run from Auto. I’d enjoyed the food I ate at the diner and the sly way I watched him, trying to figure him out. Because, for the life of me, I couldn’t read him, like he was trying to read me. Now I had to go to him for real safety and bring with me more drama yet again. This wasn’t cool.

  But Code’s life was in danger, and her secret was mine now. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to trust Auto like she did, but I knew that he would hate me to my grave if something happened to Code and I didn’t open my mouth. Snitching wasn’t in me, especially with my DNA, but “loyalty to family” was my motto. Code had protected me, and she was still doing so. And Auto was like a brother to her, so I had no other choice. I guessed this meant that I needed to do the same for her—protect her—because of two things: one, I was her cousin, and two, we both were Eraserheads.

  Loyalty over everything.

  Chapter 18

  Code

  Papa had taken me into his custody the night Boots ended Mouse’s life. I called it custody because he forbade me to leave the house. I’d asked him why. How dare I fix my mouth to question him, as if I had the right? he’d said.

  The next day I had gone into the war room, where a meeting was taking place. All around me had sat family members: my mom, aunts, uncles, and cousins alike. They had all sat in chairs in the war room. Shit had reminded me of a dungeon. The middle of the floor was stained concrete. Drawn on the concrete was an oval shape. It was the family’s crest, a capital O with a king’s crown in the middle. There were two step-ups that circled the room as well. The people with the most power in the family sat around that oval shape, while Papa sat front and center at the head,
like the king he was.

  I’d been so angry when I learned he had been behind everything that I’d rushed right in to confront him, interrupting his meeting with the family council.

  “Been hanging around filth so long you’ve forgotten your place, Maria Rosa?” he snapped at me.

  The old man stood and came to stand face-to-face with me. As always, he was dressed the part of a corporate head honcho. In a bloodred dress shirt, wide-legged brown dress pants, and designer red loafers. On his left hand was a ring with the family crest. On his wrist, a black Movado timepiece. His shoulders were squared, and his eyes were unreadable except for the icy glare. The look in his cool eyes had chilled me to the bone. No matter how tough I was, the old man scared me. I’d seen him do shit that I didn’t think even the devil would do. The punishment he had inflicted on those who betrayed the family was the worst. Still, I never cowered in his looming presence. To cower only seemed to anger him more.

  “Papa, you stole my shit. You put the lives and the livelihood of all my friends in jeopardy. Why would you do that?” I yelled at him.

  Family whispered around us. Those who thought the old man showed me way too much favoritism were anxious to see what he would do to me. I was belligerent. Was panicking at the thought of Auto finding out Papa had been behind the thefts all along. Auto and the Eraserheads were the only normal part of my life, and that was saying a lot, being that we stole shit from people and car dealers for a living. Then to have Papa use our shipment of cars to transport his guns and drugs unnerved me. He hadn’t taken into account the repercussions, the fallout this would have for me. I couldn’t afford to have Auto think I’d betrayed him. Couldn’t afford to have the family I’d become a part of look at me as if I was a traitor. They meant that much to me.

  “I did not steal anything. I cannot steal that which belongs to me,” he countered.

  “That didn’t belong to you. It belonged to us! We worked for it. Earned the right to have a legitimate business—”

  “You lost the last shipment, no?” he asked, cutting me off.

  I looked up into his eyes as he closed the gap between us. “Sí.”

  “Then tell me, How would you have been able to pay me back my investment into your little business?” he asked coolly.

  “You took from us before I even borrowed the money, Papa!”

  “Still doesn’t matter,” he spat in his normal arrogant fashion. “You now owe me way more than I took. Therefore, I now own more than half of your business.”

  “The hell you do.”

  My reward for my defiance was a backhand that immediately set my right cheek ablaze. I could feel the blood trickling down my face, as he’d smacked me with the same hand that sported his crested ring. Anger bubbled in the pit of my stomach as I slowly brought my face upright and snarled at him. Papa only chuckled, then grunted as my eyes set fire to him. To any other man in my family, that was a signal to run. To Papa, it only hyped his anger.

  “Do you want to dance with your old man, Maria Rosa?” he taunted.

  To dance with him had nothing to do with actual dancing. I didn’t respond to him verbally. I took a deep breath and swallowed my rage for the moment.

  “You are already walking on thin ice, no? To tell me no when I asked a favor, and now to defy me for a mutt-ridden family? Fags, cripples, mutes, ex-whores, and a chink are who you go up against me for, little girl?” he yelled at me.

  “Your son was an undercover fag, and so was one of his sons—”

  Before I could finish the sentence, his open palm struck my left cheek. Then another backhand hit the right one. Papa hated to be reminded that one of his sons used his dick as a weapon on women and men alike. One of Uncle’s twin sons had picked up the nasty habit honestly from his father. The old man detested it. Had always cringed at the thought of two men having sex, whether willingly or not. While Uncle had been everything Papa had trained him to be, the one red mark against his legacy with the family was having an affinity for punishing males with his dick.

  The old man’s slaps made my face sting like I’d been attacked by killer bees. Blood dripped from my nose like a faucet. The fact that he had stepped down to face me showed his respect for me as his favorite grandchild. Anyone else would have had to kneel and look up at him from the floor. The loud and hard smacks on my face was more about showing his dominance than inflicting punishment.

  I was so blinded by my rage that I lashed out at him. I swung out at the old man. I could tell that, if for only a few moments, my brazen violence against him stunned him, as it took him a minute to react. My right fist slammed into his jaw. Then my left one landed full frontal into his nose. I slapped him, just so my nails could leave their mark on his face. By the time he realized that his baby girl was attacking him, I’d done enough to know there was no turning back. I went to swing at him again. He caught my left wrist and, with little to no regard, twisted it hard enough to make me cry out. I could have sworn in the old man’s eyes there were tears. But I was more than willing to bet the water I saw was just a natural reaction from the punches and slaps I’d given him.

  He gave me a knee to the stomach that leveled me. I dropped to my knees in agony. Slobber swung from my lips as he continued to twist my wrist. I cried out again. Looked at my mother, only to see her standing there, looking at me in utter disgust. Her dark chocolate face showed that she didn’t see the humor in what I had done. Although it had taken her fourteen hours to push me from her pussy, she would kill me in the name of Papa, no questions asked. To show her displeasure for my actions, she walked to the middle of the floor and hawked a wad of spit in my face.

  Her show of loyalty to the old man wasn’t anything new for me. She’d given him custody of me as soon as I’d been weaned from her breast milk. I belonged to him.

  “Papa, you’re hurting me,” I pleaded as I looked back up at him.

  If he twisted any harder, he would all but break my wrist. At that moment, he didn’t care. The disdainful look on his face showed that he too was now blinded by rage, due to my unmitigated gall to go up against him in such a manner. Papa’s hands were bigger than any man’s I’d ever seen. So when he balled his fist and introduced it to my face, I blacked out before I fell back and my head hit the floor.

  That had been two nights ago.

  “I am the night. I cannot be claimed. I am the night. I cannot be tamed. I am the darkness. I cloak the night. In my darkest hour, I can make you question your sanity. While you sleep, I plot your demise. I am the night. I make the wolves cower in silence and make the moon howl with rage. I am the night. The only thing that can make an atheist halfway believe in God . . .”

  I repeated those words over and over now as I sat hunched on my knees in the middle of the cold, dark, and damp basement. While many men in my family favored the basement, because it was used as a torture chamber by most of them, it was Papa who’d invented the method to the madness. The one place no one wanted to end up was in one of his many basements. Neither friend nor foe. The outcome was always the same. You were either going to die, lose your mind, or come out with a new outlook on life.

  Hisses surrounded me. My flesh crawled at the thought of what had me fenced in. I was safer in the dark. If I couldn’t see the things that I feared the most, then they wouldn’t scare me.

  At least that was what I told myself. The hissing got closer. Seemed louder. Sweat poured down my face as my fists tightened to the point where I was sure my palms were bleeding. Fear had always brought me closer to my humanity. It balanced out the evil that I had been born with. Fear brought me back down to earth.

  My mind went to Smiley. During these two days that I had been in the basement, Freddie had brought me food and my phone. The only way I had been able to text Smiley was because of Freddie. If Papa knew Freddie had been sneaking me a means of communication, Freddie would surely be placed somewhere where his fear of water would consume him. Freddie had almost drowned when he was three, and as a result, he was afra
id to go anywhere near pools or bodies of water.

  Papa had used that against him too. But now Freddie could hold his breath underwater for five minutes. His specialty was death by water. Still, Papa played on those fears when he saw fit, just as he played on my fears. That was the reason I sat alone now in a basement filled with enough snakes to make my flesh crawl. While none I could see were venomous, the paralyzing fear they caused me was still all too real.

  The door to the basement opened, and light shone through. At the top of the stairs stood Papa, Freddie, and Mark.

  “Go get her,” he ordered them.

  Dressed in all black suits, both my cousins descended the concrete stairs. My legs were weak from having kneeled for so long. Stomach still hurt from Papa’s knee. It wasn’t until hours after he’d kneed me that I realized the blow was harder than I’d thought. Face was sore and swollen from his assault as well. Freddie and Mark practically dragged me up the long flight of stairs. I couldn’t stop the tears that were falling down my face. I gazed at my old man through burning tears. As much as I hated him, I loved him. He’d taught me how to ride a bike. Taught me how to shoot a gun. Was affectionate when the time called for it. Had even had no problem talking about things that made most grandfather’s cringe, such as when it came to a woman’s monthly.

  I didn’t really have a mother. She was there, but that was all. It was Papa who had nurtured me. Papa who had made many of the wives he had take care of me. It was Papa who had threatened the first little boy who had broken my heart at ten years old. Papa was the first man I’d loved. And for my love, in return, he’d taken my soul. I could never be free of him.

  “Why did you make me do this to you, mi tesoro?” he asked me affectionately.

  I didn’t answer him. I let my tears roll down my face, defiance still showing in my eyes, I was sure.

  “Take her to her mother so she can be cleaned up,” Papa ordered. “Maria Rosa, when you are done, I expect to see you in the war room.”

  Papa nodded. Freddie and Mark helped me down the long hallway. Once we reached my bedroom, they tossed me face-first onto my king-size bed. I knew if we were alone, Freddie wouldn’t have been so careless, but he, too, had to keep up a certain façade.