No Matter How Much You Promise

by Edgardo Vega

  “What did they say?” he asked Cliff.

  “They said they’d send the police over as soon as they could.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Four-twenty,” Cliff said.

  “Shit!” Billy said. “They just changed shifts. Let’s go.”

  “You’re going up there?”

  “Only if I have to,” Billy answered. “The police can handle it.”

  As they got into the elevator, Cliff wanted to ask his father about the gun, but he could already tell that Billy was someplace else in his mind. By the time they got to the street they could hear sirens in the distance, but they soon faded. Something else was going on. When they got to the building and Cliff pointed out where Fawn had gone in with Papo, the police had yet to arrive. They went across the street to see if they could see anything, but saw nothing. Billy debated with himself whether he should go up into the building but decided to wait a while longer. Five minutes later sirens again, this time closer. Patrolmen Gallagher and Vargas screeched into the block.

  Human beings who live in an urban environment, where they hear almost daily of beatings, muggings, murders, and rapes, commonly steel themselves to the constant attack on the senses, putting up a shield of disbelief around themselves. Each time something takes place, the shield becomes thicker, and the person begins to believe more and more that these crimes happen only to other people. When it does happen to us, it isn’t quite believable. Cliff and Billy had two different reactions. Cliff was positive that any minute now Fawn would be coming down, smiling with embarrassment that she had caused such a fuss to be made around her. Billy, on the other hand, knew that nothing good would come of the situation. He had sensed something and now it had come. Now something told him he should act, but he waited until the police arrived. His father had been a cop and they had their own procedures that had to be respected. If the laws weren’t respected by civilians, then everything would turn to chaos. They finally saw the patrol car enter the block and waved to it.

  Cliff approached the police car as the patrolmen were getting out. As the two officers closed the doors two more police cars came into the block from the opposite direction.

  “Officer,” Cliff said, pointing to the building. “I called. They got my sister in there.”

  “Who are you?” Officer Vargas said to Billy.

  “I’m the girl’s father,” he said, his face a mask of crazed determination.

  “Well, wait across the street, please,” Gallagher said. “The two of you.”

  And then they heard a shot. A crowd had gathered, and everyone looked up in unison. One or two people pointed at the building. Up on the fifth-floor fire escape, little Pipo was shouting that they had the bitch and they were going to kill her if they didn’t let them go. The call from one of the patrol cars went out immediately informing all concerned that they had a hostage situation. Within a half hour the block was full of police. A sniper team, a hostage negotiation team, a SWAT team, emergency services, and big brass from headquarters had all converged. They set up a command post on the roof across the street and preparations for negotiations began.

  At the same time that Cliff had been on the phone with the 911 dispatcher, the Four Horsemen of Avenue B, or the Posse of the Pingo as they referred to themselves, had taken notice of Fawn’s yinandyango. They had argued that she was a chick and the thing was a dick. After much prodding, they’d decided that Pepe should touch it. Pepe was more than happy to do so. He took it in his hand, handled it, and then, bending it, attempted to slide it into Fawn. Fear had caused her to shrink, making it impossible for the limp yinandyango to either enter her or become erect. Pepe now put his finger in her, making Fawn wince. Her eyes remained closed, but she could feel the intrusion, the pain from the rough fingers. She squirmed automatically and felt the arms jerk at her legs forcefully.

  “I’ll fuck her,” Pepe said.

  “No way,” Papo said. “She’s my chick. I go first. I told you niggahs dat.”

  “You gonna fuck her with dat dick hanging there?” Pipo said.

  “Hell no!” Papo said.

  “Then what you gonna do?” Pupi said.

  “Cut the mothafucka off,” Papo said.

  “You gonna cut off her dick?” Pepe said.

  “It ain’t a real dick,” Pupi said.

  “It’s bigger dan Pipo’s,” Papo said.

  “Niggah, fuck you,” Pipo said. “You probably already fucked the bitch and you scared dat fuckin’ a half-guy is gonna turn you into a faggot.”

  “It ain’t a real dick,” Pupi said.

  “It’s a real dick, homeboy,” Pipo said. “Dere’s bitches like that. Most of dem lesbian cachaperas got dicks. Why you tink dem women go wif each other?”

  “Dat shit’s gonna bleed and den no niggahs gonna get pussy,” Pupi said.

  “Dat ain’t true,” Pipo said, recalling the times he had raped his mother during her period. “You can fuck a bitch when she bleedin’”

  “How you know?”

  “I know, niggah.”

  “All I know is dat da chick got a dick,” Papo said.

  “Word,” Pipo said.

  “Prove it,” Pupi said.

  “Get Pepe to jerk her off.” Pipo said.

  “Go ahead, Pepe,” Papo said. “Hasle la puñeta.”

  “Okay,” Pepe said, happily.

  He grabbed the organ and started stroking it. A few minutes later, even though Fawn fought against it, the organ was growing and fully erect. The pseudo-penis wasn’t very large, perhaps three inches at the most and about as thick as a man’s thumb. Fawn was crying silently, her hips beginning to pain her from being spread so uncomfortably.

  “Damn,” Pupi said, reaching down to his trouser leg, lifting it and then unsheathing his knife. “Da niggah’s right.”

  “It’s a dick, Papo,” Pipo said. “We gotta cut da mothafucka off if we gonna get us some pussy. You start fuckin’ da bitch, she’s gonna stick dat ting up your culo and make you a faggot for sure.”

  “Turn her upside down and bring her to da middle of the room,” Papo said.

  “Pipo, you grab her legs and I’ll grab her arms. Pepe, you pull it and Pupi’ll cut it off.”

  Pupi then made a suggestion.

  “Y’all hold da bitch up and me and Macho Man’ll take care of da shit.”

  Fawn had curled up into a ball on the couch, her features carved into a hag’s face. They pried her arms and legs loose. She was no more than five feet four inches tall and weighed perhaps a hundred and ten pounds. They were holding her up at shoulder level with the front of her facing the floor and the yinandyango dangling from her, limp again. Pupi went over and untied Macho Man and brought him over and placed him beneath Fawn. The dog looked a bit confused but then Pipo took the dog’s large head and pointed it at Fawn’s appendage and urged him to get it. The dog immediately jumped up and grabbed it in its mouth and remained hanging for a brief moment, its legs not quite off the floor. The pain made Fawn black out momentarily. When she came to again she thought she would now scream for sure, but not a sound came from her.

  “Cut da mothafucka, Pupi,” Papo screamed.

  In a flash Pupi had the knife once again in his hand. Placing his hand on Fawn’s stomach he slid the knife across the pubic area. In one sharp, violent motion he made the cut, nicking her opposite thigh with the tip of the knife. The blood from the severed yinandyango flowed freely and the cut stung Fawn, who began once again to urinate. Pipo brought Macho Man back to the radiator, where he tied him up again.

  “Where’s the dick?” Papo said.

  “Macho Man ate it,” Pepe said, happily.

  The pit bull, his large reptilian face dumb and dangerous and his meatlike tongue hanging from his jaws, sat in the corner licking the blood around his mouth, his canine penis protruding slightly. They had laid Fawn back on the couch and at Papo’s urging Pepe used her ripped jeans to wipe the blood from her. The bleeding continued until Pipo, recalling having
seen the stanching of a wound in a film, suggested that they hold the jeans on the cut until the bleeding stopped. Papo did so, asking for how long. Pipo said maybe five minutes. Five minutes later Papo removed Fawn’s jeans and the blood had stopped flowing, the area within the blond pubic area raw, the hair stained.

  “Pepe, put the mattress behind the couch,” Papo said.

  Pepe did as he was told. Papo then picked up Fawn in his arms. She was limp and sweaty, her skin cold and clammy. Her face had relaxed somewhat, but she appeared dead. He looked at her chest and saw that she was breathing. Maybe she was asleep. He brought her behind the couch, placed her on the mattress, and then told the others to go into the other room. They did as they were told. He unzipped his pants, but his organ wouldn’t get hard until he masturbated himself. He spread Fawn’s legs and attempted to enter her. Each time he tried, his organ would slip and he finally ended up masturbating and spraying his seed on her chest.

  “Your turn, Pupi,” he said, standing and zipping up his pants.

  “Damn, bro,” he said. “You shot your shit all over her.”

  “I didn’t wanna get her pregnant, man,” Papo said. “I don’t want no kids.”

  “Word,” Pupi said. “Give me a rag and go with the fellas.”

  Papo threw him a rag and Pupi wiped Fawn’s breasts, hating their roundness and large size. When he was sure the others weren’t looking Pupi turned Fawn over, propped up her legs, spread the buttocks, placed his penis on her and thrust violently, like he secretly did with Guango the pato over on Second Avenue, except that Guango always put Vaseline all over his dick and was always telling him, don’t hurt me too bad, baby. The faggot paid him, so what was he supposed to do? He imagined he was a fierce pit bull mating with one of the females and he grabbed Fawn around her stomach, avoiding her breasts, which he didn’t like touching. He thrust three or four times and he came violently, driving Fawn’s body into the mattress. Her mind was blank. All she could perceive was a deep dull pain over her entire body. The yinandyango was no longer there, but the stinging pain where it had been, persisted.

  When Pupi was done he turned Fawn over and spread her legs. She had no volition to protect herself or move on her own. Pupi stood up and called for Pepe, but Pipo showed up, claiming that it was his turn. Pupi said it was Pepe’s turn. Pipo knew Pupi had Frankie Cabeza’s gun and the dog and knew Pupi was crazy enough to use both. Papo eventually intervened and Pipo went at it, penetrating Fawn slightly, the violation no longer significant in his eyes. When he was finished he complained.

  “Bitch’s pussy was like sandpaper,” he said.

  “Yeah,” Papo said. “That was some tight pussy.”

  “Word,” Pupi said.

  “I’ma fuck her good,” Pepe said, taking out his large member, already erect.

  The other three watched in wonder as Pepe got down, spread Fawn’s legs, and pushed a little bit at a time. Papo got down on the floor and looked between Pepe’s legs as the organ entered and then it was inside and the girl was pushing her hands against Pepe, trying to get him away from her. Pepe pinned her arms down and thrust violently. He was on her five minutes, pushing and grunting, and then his climax causing him to thrust six or seven times as he emptied himself. For the first time Fawn cried out weakly from the pain inside her. When Pepe got up the semen was still falling from his tumescent penis.

  “Chiquita likes to lick it,” he said, confessing to the others.

  “Your mother’s dog?” Papo said.

  “You fuck it?” Pipo said.

  “No, you know,” he said, making a masturbating motion. “When I do it. She likes to lick da come. Anyway, da girl’s got a good pussy, like da bitches in da moobies.”

  At this point they heard the sirens. They stood poised, listening for the sound to recede, but they came closer and then they knew the police had arrived. They now began arguing about what they were going to do.

  “We’ll just leave her,” Pepe said.

  “Shut up,” Pipo said. “How we gonna leave her? She’ll tell the cops what we did.”

  “Throw da bitch out da window,” Pupi said. “She’s a scummy lying bitch anyway. She got her a dick and she didn’t say nothing.”

  “Den dey’ll know we did it cause we in here,” Pipo said.

  “We gotta hit her,” Papo said. “Like the Chink. Gimme the knife, home.”

  Pupi took out the knife from under his right pant leg and gave it to Papo.

  “Y’all go in the other room,” he said.

  She was hearing everything, knowing it was going to happen. They were going to kill her. She shut her eyes as tight as she could and felt herself convulsing once more, her face tightening. It was going to happen, she thought. A second before Papo struck she heard her mother playing the dulcimer and the words of the song drifting to her from the black void that was approaching: Where have all the flowers gone … She stiffened and the initial pain came. As soon as they were gone Papo took the knife and thrust it violently into Fawn’s vagina, cut downward into the lower intestine and then upward. He hit bone above and withdrew the knife. He then thrust the knife into her lower abdomen and holding the knife in both hands lifted upward, tearing upward, past her belly button all the way to the sternum, damaging her vital organs, ripping further into her stomach and eventually severing several arteries so that Fawn Singleton Farrell became comatose for a brief moment and then began dying, irreparably damaged so that had an emergency team appeared at that very moment and by some miracle they were able to transport her to an operating room no medical team could have saved her such was the violence which Papo brought to the act. When he was done his arms were bathed in blood and he was breathing heavily. His organ had been erect and he knew he had ejaculated because he felt the warm liquid running down his leg.

  He found rags in a wardrobe and began to wipe himself, now feeling nausea and weakness in his knees. This was nothing like the Chinaman, or the kittens he had smashed against the wall in the cellar up in East Harlem with his cousins when they were kids. And then he heard the sirens and the others were running back into the room. The fear in their eyes was immediate as they stared at the blood on Papo’s arms. They looked behind the couch and Pipo immediately ran and vomited in a corner. Pepe suggested that they bring Macho Man over to lick the blood. Papo smacked him on the face and called him a sick fuck.

  “What we gonna do?” Pipo said, wiping the vomit from his chin and spitting. “Dere’s too much blood, man. Dere gonna know you did it, Papo.”

  “We all did it, man,” he said. “What you gonna say? You gonna squeal on me?”

  “No, bro, it’s not like that,” Pupi said.

  “We tell dem we still got da bitch and if dey wanna see her alive, dey better back off,” Pupi said. “We get dem to go away and den we book after it gets dark. What time is it?”

  “Four-thirty,” Pipo said.

  “Shit, it’s still early,” Papo said. “I’m getting hungrier than a mothafucka.”

  “Wait here,” Pupi said.

  Pupi went to the front window of the apartment, pulled out the gun and shot into the wall. He then stepped out on the fire escape and shouted down at the policemen that they had the girl and if they wanted to see her alive they better be cool. He ducked back in and told them there were three cop cars out on the street.

  “You tink dey’ll come up?” Pupi asked, shaken and ready to go down and turn himself in. He couldn’t stand looking at Fawn’s body and went into the room off to the side. They heard more sirens. Pipo looked out of the window and saw that many people had now congregated in the street. There were more than a dozen cop cars and wagons downstairs. And then he saw them for the first time. The SWAT team people with their shields and dark uniforms. He came running into the other room.

  “Dey got them SWAT mothafuckas up on the roof across the street, bro,” he said to Papo.

  “Fuck ’em,” Papo said. “Go out dere and tell them we ain’t coming out wif da bitch until dey clear out.
Tell dem we want some food. Some chicken, pizza, and soda.”

  “I ain’t goin out dere, bro,” Pipo said. “They gonna shoot our ass.”

  “Go tell them,” Papo said.

  “Niggah, them mothafuckas are train snivers. They got periscopes on da rifles and whatnot.”

  “Pepe, help me wif the couch, man,” Papo said. “This pussy mothafucka’s scared.”

  They stood the couch on end and slowly maneuvered it into the adjoining room so that it blocked the window facing the roof where the SWAT team was located. Standing behind the couch, his arms still stained by Fawn’s blood, Papo now shouted his orders and told the police what they wanted. He could see them crouched on the other roof and heard the loudspeakers talking to them, asking them to let the girl go and give themselves up.

  “No way,” Papo shouted. “No fuckin’ way, you hara mothafucka.” By six o’clock the police knew they had a genuine mess on their hands. They got a rope up to the fifth floor and in a bucket they sent food and drink to the four. The air had grown cooler in the last hour but everyone outside was still sweating. The brass had gone up on the roof, crawling around, everyone fearful of getting shot since the kidnappers were armed. No one could figure out why they had taken the girl hostage and wondered if they had any demands. Television crews from each of the major networks and the local stations had arrived and the mayor had issued a statement that the police ought to act with the utmost care to ensure no loss of life on either side, especially as it concerned the hostage.

  64. Flashback

  With each passing moment, as he stood with the crowd of people waiting to see what would happen next, Billy became more and more nervous, more impatient, more lost in the memories of combat. Gradually he was again in that strange zone where he knew that he had to act or everything was lost. At about six-fifteen he told Cliff to go back to the loft and make sure that when Vidamía and Cookie returned, they remained there and were safe. Cliff did as he was told and then Billy slipped away. He walked down the block and around it so that he was now behind the block where Fawn was being held.