by Wilde, Ora
“Fuck you, hommes!” the Latino yelled. “Chief is right. What’s done is done, esse. Get off the white boy and let’s ditch this crappery!”
“No!” the very familiar voice was adamant with his reply. “This isn’t part of our deal. I’m breaking the pact right now! Cross on cross, burn the bond, I’m out!”
“You know the consequence,” the unknown voice seemed to remind him.
“Yes, and I don’t fucking care,” he responded. “I’m out, and this time, for good.”
“The General won’t be pleased,” the unknown voice warned him.
“The General can kiss my ass,” he told him.
They were at a standstill. My heart was beating at a rapid rate, fearing that every pulse could be my last. They might check on Linda, and they would see me... and they would kill me too. I must live... not for myself...
Not for myself...
I saw a red button, below the drawer, just above Linda’s motionless body.
It was an alarm that would alert the police. It could only be an alarm. What else could it be?
At that point, I didn’t care. I was going to die anyway if I’d just hide there, helpless. The button would at least give a chance to survive.
To survive. Not for myself...
So I pressed it.
The booming sound of a wailing siren reverberated throughout the store, and further outside.
I heard the panic in their voices, talking loudly, yelling at each other to flee.
“Last chance, my friend,” the unknown voice asked, surprisingly in a calm manner.
“I’m out, Trevor,” the mutineer answered.
“Next time we meet, I will have to kill you,” the man identified as Trevor warned, with an uncannily unruffled tone.
“I know,” the very familiar voice confirmed. “Now leave.”
“Fuck you, hommes!” the Latino screamed at him. “Fuck you! Once a Leva, always a Leva!”
I heard them run towards the door. A few seconds later, I heard the screeching sound of a vehicle, the roar of its engine swiftly faded as they drove away.
Then I heard footsteps.
His footsteps.
Approaching the side of the counter.
Towards us.
Towards me.
The shadow of his lean form descended upon me, and I looked up. I saw his face. He wasn’t wearing a clown mask anymore. My suspicion was affirmed.
“Nash?” I said, almost mumbling as I tried to fight my tears.
“Andrea?” he uttered, shocked... his body still, startled, paralyzed.
I unhooked my hands from my legs. I moved towards Linda and checked her condition. Was she still breathing? Was there a chance that she’d survive the bullet wound? Where was she shot?
Nash knelt before her. He checked her out as well. With his strong arms, he lifted her until she lied on her back. We touched her all over, trying to find the bullet’s entry point.
There was no trace of blood anywhere.
Then her eyes suddenly opened.
She saw me first, then she smiled.
“Is it over, sweetie?” she asked, hushing.
“Yes, yes... they’re gone,” I answered, as tears started to fall from my eyes.
Then she turned her gaze towards the other side, and she saw Nash. She smiled at him at first, then she realized that he was clothed in the same overalls that his companions wore, and he was holding the same mask that they used to hide their faces.
And she started to scream.
Frantically.
I tried to calm her down.
Then I heard sirens. I heard cars halting in front of the store. I heard footsteps running towards the entrance.
I looked at Nash. I wanted to tell him to run. But it was too late.
“Police!” one of the officers yelled. They heard Linda screaming from the other side of the counter, where all three of us were. They knew where to focus their attention. “Come out with your hands up!”
Linda kept shrieking. I looked at Nash and I saw his eyes, remorseful and ashamed.
I tried to think of a way out of it. If we would come out, they’d take him in. He’ll be put on trial, and if he’d be found guilty, they would lock him up for God knows how long. We’d be apart.
We can’t be apart.
Not that day. Not in the coming months.
“This is your final warning!” the officer yelled once more. “Come out with your hands up! You are surrounded! You cannot escape!”
It was then when a different kind of instinct took over me. It compelled me to raise my hand up and to peek out of the counter... to inform the officers that I was unarmed, that I was a girl, and that I had no part in the crime that was just committed.
It was the safest option I could think of.
I had to protect myself.
Not for myself.
But for someone else.
So I held my hands up and slowly rose. The officers saw that I was harmless.
“Are you alone?” one of them asked.
“No,” I answered.
Linda stood up, as well, her shrieks have become intermittent, like garbled noise from a TV set that was turning on and off sporadically.
“Just the two of you?” the officer questioned once again.
I didn’t have to answer. Linda didn’t have to point at him. Nash stood up, slowly revealing himself to the policemen who were all pointing their guns at our direction.
Two of them immediately swooped towards Nash and subdued him. They placed his hands behind his back before handcuffing him. I heard a bone break, and I saw him grunt.
“Hey, be careful, please...” I pleaded. The officers paid me no heed. They dragged Nash towards the door to one of the waiting police cars outside.
“You two will have to come with us to the station,” the first officer said as he returned his gun back in the holster on his belt.
A policewoman assisted us towards another car outside. She attended to Linda, who was still in a state of panic. I walked alone, as slowly as I could, thinking... thinking...
What just happened?
As if things weren’t bad enough, they just got a whole lot worse.
And if Nash was going to jail, how was I supposed to deal with what was to come all by myself?
14
Aftermath
“Andrea? Do you know what time it is? Where are you?”
My dad’s words were shrill with worry, so much so that the elderly couple who were sitting behind me at the police station’s waiting area might’ve heard his voice rumbling through my cellphone.
I covered my mouth and the speaker so that they wouldn’t hear the lie that I was about to make.
“I’m still in school, Dad,” I answered him. “We have to finish this project for English Lit that’s due first thing tomorrow.”
“English Lit?” he asked skeptically. “All you do in that class is read, right?”
“Not really,” I softly replied, trying to hide my guilt.
“Are you with some boy, Andrea?” he questioned angrily.
Yeah Dad, I’m with my stepbrother and we’re at the precinct because they locked him up for robbing a convenience store. And by the way, we fucked. Not once, but twice... though I don’t know if the second one counts because I thought I was dreaming.
“Well, I have a male group mate,” I told him, “and three girls. So yes, Dad, I’m with a boy.” I feigned a chuckle.
“What time will you get home?” he finally asked, resigned to the fact that I won’t be getting back soon.
“As soon as this is finished,” I answered, relieved that I didn’t have to lie that time around.
We said our goodbyes and put down our phones. He was suspicious, yes. But I would deal with that later.
Severe anxiety struck me again. Nash was inside, being interrogated most probably, being compelled to answer for what happened at Linda’s Round-The-Clock Convenience Store.
What if he admits his guilt?<
br />
What if they lock him up away?
What would I tell my folks?
How would I be able to go through life, or at least, life in the immediate future?
I always pictured him there, with me, once I decide to reveal the truth to the world... our folks being the first in line. I realize the condemnation that will come our way. They might even disown us. But the truth shall set us free, so they say...
No...
That’s a bullshit quote.
I can’t tell them the truth.
I can’t tell anyone the truth.
Everything will crumble if I tell them the truth.
A police officer arrived at the waiting area and looked around. He drew a piece of paper from his folder and started to speak.
“Ms. Andrea Higgins?” he called out. “Is there a Ms. Andrea Higgins here?”
“Yeah, that would be me,” I answered while raising my hand.
“Come with me please,” the officer requested.
He led me towards an empty table with two chairs in the middle of several desks occupied by office-bound policemen. It didn’t look like an interrogation room at all. It was just a plain and simple table that happened to be unoccupied.
He asked me to take a seat and I did. He pulled up the other chair and sat at the opposite side of the table.
“What is your relationship with Nashville Walters?” he asked while scrutinizing his files.
My relationship? With Nash?
Somehow I found the question funny.
“He’s my brother,” I said.
“You don’t share the same family name?” he asked again, puzzled by my response.
“Stepbrother, sorry,” I clarified.
“I see. The other woman, Linda McTaggert... are you related to her?”
She supplies me with pregnancy test kits? Does that qualify as a relationship?
“No. No relation,” I simply stated.
“I see. Mrs. McTaggert alleged that your stepbrother went in with three other masked assailants. Two of them were carrying baseball bats. One of them, as she eventually and almost fatally found out, carried a gun. All four men, including your stepbrother, were wearing masks. Can you corroborate that narration?”
I wasn’t able to answer.
If I’d tell him the truth, it would just arm him with evidence that would establish Nash’s guilt. I wanted to invoke my right against self-incrimination, but I wasn’t the suspect. I wondered if that right extended to family members who weren’t related by blood to the accused.
I needed a lawyer... but then again, as I reminded myself once more, I wasn’t the one who accused of a crime.
The officer noticed my frown as I was in deep thought.
“Should I take your silence as a yes?” he asked rather impatiently.
I just looked at him, not knowing what to say.
“Could I talk to him, please?” I said, almost begging.
“In due time,” he assured me in a tone that was far from comforting. “Right now, I will need you to answer my questions.”
I swallowed some air.
“Ms. Higgins,” he continued, “your answers will be for this investigation. I expect you to answer truthfully. We wouldn’t want justice to be obstructed in any way, right?”
He was threatening me, that was almost certain. He may have tried to be polite, but his approach and his choice of words were both intimidating and coercive. Somehow, I felt that what he was doing wasn’t right. Why should I be forced into sharing what I know, when what I know would endanger the one I love.
Love?
Oh my God, Andrea... did you just say love?
It didn’t matter if it was just the voice in your head... but did you just say that you love him?
Apprehension quickly took over me. I felt like I was being pushed against a corner, that escape was an impossibility. Should I or shouldn’t I answer his questions? There must be a law that I could use... a law that would allow me to keep my silence without inviting any charges that could be filed against me.
If only I could tell my dad everything. He knew some people. Judges and court officials at City Hall who frequented the barbershop. Lawyers who have become his regular clients. Even law students who come by from time to time. He told me about them... about the stories they would share while he was cutting their hair. If I informed my dad about the predicament that Nash and I were in, he could’ve easily contacted one of those people and help would be on the way.
But I couldn’t tell my father the truth.
“Do I make myself clear, Ms. Higgins?” he asked once more, growing impatient it seemed.
A lawyer. I needed a lawyer. Nash needed a lawyer.
But I didn’t know any lawyer in the city. I was too young to be introduced to any of them...
Except for one...
“Has he been informed about his right to an attorney?” I asked the officer, a question that seemingly surprised him.
“Him? Meaning Nashville Walters?” he tried to confirm. “Yes. He has been read his Miranda Rights. He refused the aid of counsel.”
“Because he never trusted one,” I answered with an excuse I was able to fabricate. “It’s a... phobia of his.”
That sounded really weird.
“Phobia?” the officer questioned as he raised his eyebrow. “He’s afraid of... lawyers?”
“Yes,” I said. “It’s a very... private... story. I’m not comfortable sharing it. It was a difficult time for all of us.” I summoned the actress within me - if there was any - to give the impression that I was at the verge of tears.
He looked at me dubiously. He didn’t want to believe the tale I wove. But he wasn’t in a position to argue the veracity of my claim.
“He was offered an attorney,” he said. “Provided by the State, free of charge. But he refused. What else can we do?”
“There’s one lawyer whom he trusts!” I exclaimed. “Let me call him up and he can sort this matter out immediately.”
He tapped his fingers on the surface of the table. He looked at me intently, studying my gestures, my posture, my body language... looking for any sign that would reveal that I was lying.
“Very well,” he spoke as he stood up from his chair. “Make it quick. We don’t want to be here all night.”
I left the table and returned to the waiting area. I opened my bag and looked for my phone. I pressed on the home button and saw that there were seven unread messages there. I went to the conversation screen and discovered that they were all from Finn.
Hey Andrea! How are you?
Homecoming’s next week. Can we go there
together? A simple date? I miss you.
Have you eaten dinner? Don’t miss it, ok? You don’t have
to lose weight. You’re perfect just the way you are.
Wish we could talk. A short reply would be enough.
I feel so lonely. I need you with me.
Have you received a letter from UCLA? Sam Corby
just received his yesterday, so they’re sending them
out already.
Sam didn’t make it, BTW.
I still love you, Andrea. Only you.
I didn’t want to respond. I really didn’t.
But Finn’s dad... he was the only lawyer I knew, and he has always been nice to me. I had no choice.
I started to type a reply...
Finn? I’m in deep shit. I really need some help.
Less than a minute after I sent that text, my phone rang. It was Finn. I picked up his call.
“Andrea?” he said with a voice that was full of worry. “What happened? Where are you? Are you alright?”
“Yes, I’m okay,” I told him sullenly. “I’m at the police station, down at Memphis Drive. Something happened, and I can’t tell my folks...”
“Okay, everything will be fine,” he answered with the same composed and reassuring tone I have always known. “Tell me exactly what happened and we’ll sort this out.”
