Eraserheads

by Brick

  I grunted loudly as I turned over in the bed. My wrist was screaming in pain. My white down comforter was now covered with specks of my blood. I stared around the room that had been mine for as long as I could remember. It had changed over time: the princess-themed décor had given way to a more mature theme. Pictures of famous female warriors, from both fiction and nonfiction, decorated my walls. All women of color. My room was spotless, as living with Papa demanded this. The maplewood flooring had been polished to perfection.

  Upon the gold, cream, and white carpet at the foot of my bed was a trunk filled with guns that I had collected over time. My white armoire was trimmed in twenty-four-karat gold, courtesy of Papa. Closet was filled with everything clothes- and shoes-wise that I could imagine. Yes, the old man had spoiled me. It pained me to know that he had betrayed my trust.

  It didn’t take my mother long to make her appearance. I’d been trying to rid myself of my soiled clothing for minutes before she strolled in. The bitch always walked like she had a book balanced on her head. For as regal as she walked, she was a deadly pit bull, trained to fight. Her long hair sat plaited against her head. She had on a thin green silk gown that outlined her slim figure.

  She didn’t say anything as she laid white bath linens on my bed before walking over to help me undress. She was shorter than I was, but her attitude made her seem as if she was a giant. Once I was nude, she looked at the bruises on my stomach and side.

  “You deserved it, you know,” she told me. “How dare you disrespect my father as such? Tu me averguenza y eres muy arrogante. Pude haberte matado!”

  She was angry that I’d embarrassed her and acted with arrogance. She was so angry that she told me she could have killed me.

  “Is your standing with Papa more important than me, Mama?” I asked.

  She stood back and looked at me. “You know the rules in this family, girl. Don’t act as if you don’t. Father holds you in high regard, and you would so vehemently defy him for the sake of gutter trash! Have you no respect for our bloodline, child? Have you no shame to be associated with such utter filth? People who don’t even know where they come from?”

  “Ellos no son basura, mamá! They are not trash. They are people. They are my friends. They have families. They have survived what you couldn’t imagine.”

  “Trash! I don’t care what you say. Choose your battles, Maria Rosa. Do not go up against my father again.”

  As I held my left wrist in my right hand, I shook my head. “I am your daughter, Mama. You carried me for nine months, sí. What about me? What about what I want?”

  The woman who should have had some love in her eyes for me slapped me. With one smooth, fluid sweep of her feet, my back hit the floor hard. She got down on one knee and yanked me up by my hair.

  With a darkness richer than the one in my eyes, she told me, “This isn’t just about you, mija. This is about familia, la familia Orlando. And the next time you sully our name, I will have you placed in the dirt, in an unmarked grave next to the rest of the traitors. Entiendes?”

  She didn’t give me time to answer before she got up and stormed from the room. I lay there on the floor, wondering where my life had taken a left turn. What had I gotten my surrogate family into?

  It took me over an hour to bathe myself. I wrapped my wrist as best I could. Cleaned the dried blood from my lips, nose, and eyes. Bandaged my ribs so the pain there would ease up, then donned my signature white suit. I forwent the heels and decided to slide my feet into white boots. After pulling my hair back into a neat bun at the nape of my neck, I met the old man in the war room.

  “I went to see your friend Auto today,” Papa said to me as he and I sat at the dinner table.

  The only other people in the room were Mark and Freddie, each flanking the old man. Before me sat a plate with a succulent T-bone steak, asparagus, homemade mashed potatoes, and handmade French bread. Papa had cut into his medium-rare steak and was eating like all was well between us. His white suit jacket hung neatly on the back of his chair. The sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled midway up his forearms, the tattoos only family knew he had clearly visible.

  I simply stared at my plate. No way would I eat anything on that plate. He noticed my hesitation.

  “Why aren’t you eating, Maria Rosa? I slaved in the kitchen to make your favorite, and you would insult the cook, no?” he inquired.

  He had cooked. That was the closest thing to an apology I would get from him. But I was no damn fool. Many men had met their deaths by way of poison at the hands of Papa. He moved his plate to the side, pulled mine in front of him. I watched as he cut into my steak, then took a bite. Next, he ate a spear of the asparagus, then a spoonful of the potatoes. Finally, he took a big chunk of the bread and nodded at me.

  “No poison, mi bella. I would not poison someone so important to me over a minor infraction. Give me some credit.”

  As he talked, he frowned, while pointing his knife at my food. Once he had pushed the plate back over to me, I dug in. I couldn’t front like I wasn’t hungry. My stomach had started to growl as soon as I saw the spread.

  “As I was saying, your friend Auto, I saw him,” he continued while he chewed. “We couldn’t come to an agreement. I’d like you to help me with that.”

  I was curious. “An agreement on what?”

  “I want to use his business in the auto industry as a means of transport. Think you can help me convince him?”

  I knew by the tone of his voice that what he’d asked wasn’t really a question. He was testing me. He needed to see how deep my loyalty to family still was. The fact that he had shown his face to Auto alarmed me. Papa showed his face for only two reasons. One, he was confident that he was going to do intricate business with you. Two, he was going to kill you. Neither boded well for Auto.

  “I’ll talk to him.”

  “Need you to do more than talk.”

  “I said I would talk to him, Papa. He isn’t one of us. You can’t expect him to just hand over a part of the business he’s built from the ground up.”

  Papa cut into his steak again, ate a few bites, then sipped his wine. He took the cloth napkin and wiped his hands before standing.

  “Do more than talk, Maria Rosa. Get me results, or things will go from bad to worse,” was all he said before he turned his gaze away from me. “Marco, Frederick, come. We have business to discuss.”

  Once I was sure they were gone, I made a beeline to my car. Was set to pull away, but then Freddie came running out.

  “Yo, Code, wait,” he called out.

  I hit the brakes and then waited for him to get to me.

  “You okay?” I asked him.

  He nodded once. “I’m good.”

  “Thought the old man wanted to talk to you.”

  “He did. I asked to be excused for a moment. You need to watch yourself. After everything that’s happened, Papa’s letting you leave too easily.”

  Butterflies settled into my stomach. “You hear something?”

  He shook his head. “No, but you know him. Something is off. I don’t know. He and Marco have been talking a lot. Talking about war strategies and shit. Supposedly, we’ve found a new set of familia that had been missing.” He saw the panic in my eyes. “Not Smiley. Not yet. Football player for the Nightwings. Watch the news when you can. Anyway, just be careful. I love you, a’ight?”

  I nodded. “I know. Love you too, cousin. And thank you for always having my back.”

  “Just like you always have mine. Oh, and I finally got Oya to answer my texts,” he said, then grinned wide.

  I shook my head, smiling inwardly that he wasn’t treading down the same road as other men had in our family when it came to women. I waved at my cousin and sped off.

  Chapter 19

  Code

  I got to Morrow quicker than I ever had. I didn’t want the team to see me as beat up as I was. I parked behind the abandoned Sherwin-Williams plant, then eased my way around to the back of the shop. I s
lowly made my way up the stairs, used my key to open the door, and stepped into the security room.

  Auto was already there. I guess he had been as paranoid as I felt. His hair sat on his shoulders. Black, square-toed dress shoes tapped the floor. He was dressed in a gray polo-style shirt and black slacks. His coffee-black eyes took note of the condition of my face. I watched him inhale and exhale hard.

  “I would ask where you’ve been, but judging by the condition of your face, I can guess,” he said.

  “Where’s Smiley?” I asked him.

  He told me the story of how she had run off after seeing the old man approaching Colleen’s.

  “So where is she now?”

  He pointed to one of the TV screens. In the computer room was Smiley, doing what she did best.

  Auto swiveled his chair back in my direction and looked at me before standing.

  “I need to talk to you and the crew, but you first,” I said.

  He nodded. “Good. Because I was thinking the same thing.”

  Auto’s eyes held apprehension. I could tell by the way he kept his distance that he was questioning his trust in me. That was to be expected. Auto was smart, so it was safe to say that he had figured out that it was the old man who had visited him.

  “I want you to know that I love this family, and I would never betray what we’ve built. Still, there are some things I need to come clean about. First thing is Smiley,” I said.

  He folded his arms across his sinewy chest as he watched me.

  I went on. “She isn’t just some random person that pinged our system. She’s my cousin. I ran into her months ago at her job. Had met her years before that and had been watching her. This is hard to explain, and I know right now you’re probably wondering why the hell I would lie to you about her being family, right?”

  Auto didn’t say a word. He kept his face free of any emotion. The only way I could tell his anger was rising was by the way his upper lip twitched in the right-hand corner.

  “The dynamics of my family are complicated, Auto. The only way I can explain this to you is like this. I had to keep who she was a secret, lest the old man take her. She, too, is a granddaughter of the old man. And anything with his blood belongs to him and la familia Orlando. I didn’t want him to do to her what he has done to me. And the only way to do that was to have you spring her from the joint.”

  “So why didn’t you just tell me this from the jump?”

  “Because the less you knew, the safer you would be.”

  “This is bullshit, Code. Bullshit. You used me. You played on the trust we had to further your agenda.”

  “It wasn’t like that, Auto. It’s because I trust you that I felt she would be safer here with us.”

  Auto shook his head. Mumbled something under his breath about every nigga having an agenda. Then he kicked the chair in front of him.

  “And she knows who she is to you?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “So I’m the only one in the dark about this whole thing?”

  I nodded, shamefully so.

  “You know I don’t work this way. We’re family. We never keep secrets like this. I pride myself on being a great leader. I like to ensure everybody on the team knows what’s going down beforehand.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head, with his lips turned down into a scowl. “What else?” he asked.

  This was the part I hated, because I knew that with what I was about to tell him would come the end of my place in the Eraserheads. Still, he needed to know the old man was gunning for him. So I told him everything. From the first shipment being stolen to the last one, which gave us our biggest loss. I told him how the old man had been behind the whole thing. By the time I was done, Auto had flipped his lid, and had it not been for the love he had for me, we would have become mortal enemies. More so on his end than mine.

  “I swear on everything, I didn’t know. Had I known, I would have prevented it or would have come to you sooner. I didn’t know we were going up against the old man,” I pleaded.

  “I don’t want to hear that shit, Code. I really don’t. You should have told me as soon as you suspected that shit. I’m left out in the cold, scrambling to cop my losses, hustling for fucking chump change, and you would sit on this info? This is my life!” he yelled, slapping a hand against his chest. “This is their lives,” he continued as he pointed at the screen on the TV showing the team closing up shop.

  It was after eight in the evening. The time when we closed down the shop daily. My phone kept vibrating, but I ignored it. It was more than likely the old man, trying to see if I had made good on my end of the bargain. I ignored him. On the screen, Seymore, Reagan, Lelo, Stitch, Dunkin, and Jackknife were all clowning around as they shut things down for the evening. There were still a few customers in the waiting area, waiting on their cars to be pulled around.

  It pained me that I had been part of the reason their lives could possibly be in danger.

  “I know, Auto, and I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry ain’t fucking good enough, Code.”

  “I had to be sure it was the old man before I—”

  “Before you what? You borrowed money from this motherfucker, and now, because we can’t pay him back in the time he deems acceptable, he wants to take what belongs to me? That’s not going down on my watch. And I’ll take down whoever I need to, to ensure it doesn’t. Just like you got people, I have people too. By any means necessary, I will protect what’s mine. If that means you and I will have to part ways, so be it.”

  He spoke those last words with such finality that they stabbed at me, causing greater emotional pain than the physical wounds inflicted upon me. I watched as Auto snatched the door open to the security room and stalked out. A few minutes later I followed in his footsteps, my heavy burden leading the way. I hoped to find Auto in his office, but he wasn’t there. The door to his office was open, and I could hear the noise of the shop.

  As always, Auto’s office was hotter than the devil’s nuts. The stifling heat was suffocating when mixed with my deflating emotions. I watched as Lelo and Stitch argued about whose turn it was to clean the kitchen once they got home. They were both wearing the auto shop’s uniform jumper. Each of them had the top part hanging down around their waist, showing off sleeveless ribbed-cotton white T-shirts. Sweat made their skin glisten.

  “Nigga, I cleaned that shit last night,” Stitch fussed. “I’m not doing it tonight. I’m going home, showering, eating, and then chilling with the kids if they’re still awake.”

  “The hell you say,” Lelo quipped in return. “I’m not cleaning the kitchen.”

  “Ain’t nobody about to be living in roaches, either. I know you used to that shit, growing up in the barrio and all, but nah, bruh. You’re cleaning that shit right up.”

  “Ey, fuck you, man. You always got some shit to say about where I grew up. But soon as I make jokes about shit in your childhood, it’s a problem.”

  “Whatever. Clean the kitchen when we get home,” Stitch replied.

  “Whatever.”

  Seymore and Reagan were chuckling. Seymore was at the printer. Reagan was at the sink, washing off some part she had in her hand. Jackknife and Dunkin had walked into the waiting area to hand the customers their keys after pulling cars around. Once the customers had driven off, they sat down and flipped the TV to a basketball game. All was well in their world. They had no idea of all the mess we were in. The doors to the garage bays had been pulled down. The workday was done.

  I finally pulled my phone out of my pocket. Five missed calls from Freddie and two texts. The first text read, I’m sorry. The next one read, Forgive me. I frowned. To say I was confused was an understatement. Forgive him for what?

  “Oh shit,” I heard Lelo sing in a happy voice. “Code’s back.”

  I jerked my head up, thinking they’d spotted me in the office, only to see Lelo was at one of the garage doors.

  “Damn, where she been,
anyway?” Reagan wanted to know.

  “Probably handling biz for the fam. You know Code. She always working shit out for us,” Stitch said, chiming in.

  “I don’t know, but I’m glad she brought my fucking truck back,” Lelo said with a laugh.

  Just as he was pulling the garage door up, it hit me. I’d taken Lelo’s truck the night we’d all met at Joy Lake. Since Papa had kept me in the basement, I hadn’t had a chance to give Lelo his truck back. I rushed from Auto’s office just as Auto came rushing down the stairs from the computer room.

  “Lelo, don’t open the door!” I yelled, but it was too late.

  It all happened in slow motion for me. As soon as the garage door came up, there stood my cousin Mark. In his hand was an AK-47 assault rifle. Flanking him were six other men, including Freddie. Lelo never knew what hit him. His body jerked backward as his chest was riddled with bullets. Reagan had to tackle Stitch to the floor. Seymore took a hit to the chest from a shotgun blast and was sent flying from his wheelchair. Auto jumped over the railing and went for cover. Smiley took a hit to the shoulder as Auto pulled her over with him.

  Bullets swept the place as the men marched forward into the shop. I knew Papa had ordered the hit, because none of the bullets came my way and I was standing out in the open. I rushed into Auto’s office. Hit the button for the hidden panel on his wall. Grabbed a Desert Eagle and rushed back to the firefight. With perfect aim and precision, I took down two of my male cousins with ease. Two bullets between each one’s eyes. I could see Auto flanking Smiley, who was on one knee, still shooting, despite the obvious pain in her shoulder. Auto’s aim was just as good as mine. While another cousin had ducked for cover, I sent a bullet to chase him. Reagan and Stitch were in a dire situation. If they moved from their hiding spot, they’d be dead. I turned my gun on Freddie, took his left kneecap out, then his right elbow. His yelps of pain brought tears down my face.