Authors: Ian Vasquez
All of this, plus a certainty now: Reynaldo Rivera had been put on the ward for one thing only, and that was to make sure Herman Massani left the hospital as a dead man. Leo thought, Would you listen to yourself? Your imagination’s running away with you, son.
But he knew it wasn’t. This was serious and it was freaking him out, and what was worse, he suspected Patrick was involved, telling him to stall, keep Massani on the floor. Why? Because Patrick knew what was going to happen. But the piece that didn’t fit: Reynaldo was admitted to the hospital before Leo ever went to Patrick with this Massani problem, so how could Patrick have arranged to fix a problem he wasn’t aware of yet? The clearest part of this fuckery was people wanted to kill this old man Massani, and he, Leo Varela, a laid-back dude who just wanted to smoke a little weed now and then and write some poetry, was smack in the middle of the shit. Man, this was so twisted.
All this was running through his head as he cut through the parking lot heading for his car, so he saw them too late. Freddy and Bernard, arms folded, leaning against the black Benz, watching him come. Leo said under his breath, “Like I need any more drama this morning,” but he kept moving.
Freddy called, “Good morning, or maybe I should say afternoon. And here I am thinking all these evil thoughts, telling my man Big B here for sure you pussied out and hauled ass through a back exit or somethin’. But no, the hero appears. What you wearing on your chin, dawg?”
“Got assaulted by a patient last night,” Leo said, walking up, “on top of all that shit with the old man I told you about. I had to get stitches, too,” pointing to his chin and shaking his head. “Really sorry, man, but like I said, tonight we try again, if you want.”
The Benz was parked at a tight angle next to his Corolla, blocking his driver’s-side door. The sun was out strong, a few stragglers in scrubs hurrying across the parking lot to the annex. For the first time in hours, Leo felt alert. Maybe that was because something in their posture, the way these two were staring, felt like a threat.
He said, “Hey, I tried, but it was just one of those things, unexpected.” Pointing to his chin again. “Four stitches.”
Freddy nodded, looking off to the side. He plucked the front of his shirt away from his body and flapped it. “Hot like a bitch this morning. Let’s talk inside the car. Much more comfortable.”
Bernard unlocked the car with his key chain remote and opened a back door. Freddy slipped inside and scooted down to make room for Leo.
Standing there. Thinking, Better not get in that car. Thinking of a way to refuse without looking scared. He fished his keys from a pocket and said, “Man, Fred, I’ve got to book. Got to take my fiancée for her pregnancy checkup this morning, and I’m running late as it is.”
Bernard stood arms folded at the door, chin tilted up, looking down his nose at Leo.
Freddy said, “Get in, Lee, this’ll take two minutes. I got errands, too, awright? Get the fuck in the car and let’s talk right quick.”
Bernard said, “You hear the man.”
Leo got in, apprehensive. Bernard slammed the door and squeezed into the driver’s seat, the car rocking under his bulk. He started the engine, cranked the air.
Leo dropped his hand on the seat, feeling the cool, smooth leather, taking in the rich smell, the car too classy for these two driving it.
Freddy said, “Listen to me, now. I need you to guarantee, okay—
guarantee
that this man is walking out tonight. No excuses, no bullshit, I’m talking results. You hearing me?”
Freddy acting cockier every time they spoke.
“I do, man, just that this was one of those things outta my control, the way the man was behaving. Then I get hit like this, anybody on staff, it means a ton of paperwork for us to fill out, incident reports, insurance stuff. I had absolutely no time.”
“Hear me asking questions?” Freddy shook his head. “I don’t need no details, all this woe-is-me nonsense. I could give you some rope so you blab on with your little explanation, next thing you hang yourself with it, but, see, I’m gonna save you. Why? ’Cause I got a job to do and that’s to make sure you do yours and that’s all I care about. You ain’t doing yours, so now I end up looking like a fucking idiot. I can’t have that no more, dawg. Tonight? You
gots
to come through. This man getting in this car tonight,” Freddy jabbing the seat with a fin-ger, “we driving off with him, and you and me and Bernard and everybody else concerned with this bullshit here gonna live happily ever after, the end. Tell me you understand the situation, Lee.”
Leo had just about had it with this guy but kept his irritation
in check. “Hey, I understand.” His eyes moved to Bernard fiddling with something on the front seat.
Freddy said, “Same time, same plan. No change. Except the end result.”
“I got it,” Leo said, watching Bernard raise something silver, turning around. It was one of those spring-coil grip exercisers, a heavy-duty one, thick coils, knurled silver handles. Bernard squeezed it a couple of times, the handles clicking when they touched. He handed it to Leo.
“Show me what you got.”
Leo took it and examined it, looked at Freddy. Freddy was staring off through the window, like he’d seen this show before. Leo squeezed hard, the knurling rough on his skin, Leo bringing the gap to within a half inch before he had to release.
“Not bad,” Bernard said, “you almost had it. Ever do this before?”
“Not since high school.” Leo handed it back and flexed his fingers. He was ready to leave but Bernard produced another. “Try this one. That’s a Number Two. That first one was a Number One. They got like four levels. When you reach the fourth and mash the handles, they call you a Captain of Crush. Try it.”
Leo held the gripper, turning it around in his hand to check out the thicker coil.
Bernard said, “The company makes them sends somebody out, verify the feat, then gives you a certificate. Only a few dozen people in the world can mash a Four, know that? That’s a serious challenge there, nigger, even that Number Two. Go ahead.”
Reluctant, Leo wiped his hands on his pants, squeezed the gripper. Like squeezing a rock at first, the handles creeping in a
couple of inches and refusing to go any farther. Veins in his forearm popping out. He let go, exhaling hard, a little perspiration prickling his hairline. “Yeah, that’s pretty tough,” he said, handing back the gripper. “Good luck in your pursuit, Bernard.”
The man grinned. “I almost got the Four, almost. Less than a quarter inch. Did it one time, just one time, but it’s all good. Training, that’s all. Like I got a sick grip now. Check this,” stretching an arm across the back of his seat. “This my normal grip, left hand.”
Leo slowly brought his left hand up and clasped Bernard’s big mitt. The man applied pressure. Leo said, “Yeah, yeah, I feel it.” The man increased the squeeze and Leo said, “Easy there.” Bernard grinned. “You like that?” He squeezed harder and Leo felt his hand being crushed, knuckles grinding. “Okay,” he said through his teeth, “ease up … ease up … point taken.” Pain lifted him off the seat, Leo reaching with his other hand to try and pry loose. That only made Bernard bear down more and say, “Siddown.” No grin now.
Freddy turned away from the window. “Lee, the thing I want to impress upon you is the significant nature of what I need you to do or you might not take me serious. The man I represent knows it’s business, me and Big B here know it’s business, and you need to know it.”
One more time, Leo tried to grab Bernard’s wrist and wrench his hand away before the man splintered it. “Let me go, man … let me go.”
Freddy said, “You got one more shot, that’s tonight.”
Leo writhing now, head down, one knee sinking to the floor. Bernard took hold of him with two hands and bent his little
finger back, way back, till Leo had to lean back with it so it wouldn’t snap … so it wouldn’t snap … so it wouldn’t …
Fuck
, it snapped loudly, and pain shot up his arm and he heard himself scream. “Ahh, Jesus …” He was sweating, could hardly catch his breath.
“Strike one,” Freddy said. “That was strike one.”
Now Bernard grasped his ring finger and bent it back, Leo saying, “Wait, wait… .”
And Freddy saying, “You play games, you get three strikes and you out. Since you obviously like motherfucking games, you need to understand you can’t get three strikes with me, no sir.”
With a flick of the wrist, Bernard broke the finger and Leo hollered again, throwing his head back.
“Strike two.”
Bernard released him with a smile, and Leo dropped his other knee and leaned his forehead against the back of the front seat, hugging the hand close to his chest, sweating. Tears filled his eyes, his nose running uncontrollably. He pulled his chin into his chest and rocked back and forth, the movement seeming to ease the pain, back and forth. He kept telling himself, Come on, control yourself. Control, control… . He felt humiliated; at the same time, though, something was steeling inside of him, deep inside, and he lifted himself off the floor. Flopped back on the seat. The air-conditioning chilled him all over. He started to tremble a little, but with deep breaths, slow and deep, he stilled his body.
Freddy tossed a folded handkerchief in his lap. “Clean yourself up.”
Leo looked at the hankie on his leg. He picked it up with his
good hand, wiped his face. Okay, motherfuckers. This is how it is, huh?
Freddy stared out the window at the nurses, the hospital staff in green scrubs with clipped-on badges flapping as they walked across the parking lot. Bernard looked straight ahead, working one of the grippers, the coil squeaking. Without moving, Freddy said, “Take him to the emergency room, Big B. Tell the man where it is, Lee.”
“ ’Round the corner.” Leo dropped his head back and closed his eyes. “Go north on Twelfth, hang a right on Nineteenth Street, couple blocks down to Ninth Avenue, then another right.” He winced. “Take another right onto Eighteenth and it’s on the right-hand side.”
Bernard put the car in reverse and backed out. “One emergency room coming up.”
Leo felt the car moving and for a moment he thought he might puke. He shut his eyes tight against the pain and concentrated on his breathing.
“Know something I been checking out? Some fine young women work at this place, Lee. How you get any work done, man? I’d be like
distracted
.”
Bernard gave a chuckle. He paid the parking lot attendant and turned toward the main gate.
“Speaking of which,” Freddy said, “I tell you about the other night, Bernard? Yeah, man, at Casa Rita’s, that club on Lejeune they dance meringue and salsa, all them Latin dances? This Dominican female, rocking body. I was checking her out all night, asking myself, This the one? You want to go through with this? You know, doubting myself. So like I roll up there, she’s sitting
there with a drink, just got off the dance floor, and I see the dude she was dancing with wasn’t her man or nothin’, so I roll up and ask her like, Care to dance? Tell her I’d been admiring her all night and would love just one turn on the floor with her, you know? Give her some sweet talk, see how she responds. Shit, bitch acted all cold. Told me like thanks, but no thanks.”
“Don’t tell me. You picked her.”
“Damn right. I say to myself, All right, baby, you the one for me, then. You mine tonight. So I said, Okay, and asked her could I at least buy her a drink? Rum and pineapple juice, you say? Sure, baby. Got me a beer, got her a rum and pine. Started chattin’ again with her. You know those club girls like the attention, sitting there all foxy fine in the strapless dress, all glittery, trying to look bored but you
know
she’s out fishing, too, which man wouldn’t throw his line, don’t you agree?”
Bernard shook his head. “So you did it again?”
“What you think?”
“How?”
“Right there at the bar. She wasn’t even paying me no mind. Just drop the magic pill in there and like here you go, baby,
sa-lud
, smooth like that.”
Bernard shook his head.
“Not even ten minutes later, bitch all groggy, the love potion hitting her nice, woman still refusing to go with me. Tell her, No, sweetie, you need some fresh air, that’s why. This loud music and all that alcohol and cigarette smoke doing a number on you, come on with me. Finally, I’m like, Come here, girl, grabbing her real rough-like ’round the arm, see, manhandling her so she know what’s up. Got her in the car, drive over to a park-
ing lot behind that liquor store off Seventh Avenue. Man, after that, quick and easy. Except the panties decided to fight back, so it was snip, snip, with my trusty scissors in that glove box right there.” Freddy clapped his hands loudly, giggling. “Oooh, baby. Now, that’s what I’m talking ’bout!”
They were on Nineteenth Street, Bernard moving into the right lane, indicator on, Ninth Avenue coming up.
Leo thinking, Who is this guy sitting next to me? Was Freddy always this nasty, or was it prison that thoroughly warped him?
“What’s that girl name from your college days again, Lee? The blonde used to live in the dorms, acted all hyper when she drank Coke. Samantha?”
Leo gently set the hand in his lap, every movement causing him pain. “Rebecca. Samantha was the roommate.”
“Yeah, yeah,
Rebecca
. I had me some Rebecca one night. Remember that ’cause she was the first one tasted my love potion. Know something, come to think of it? Was in your dorm room, Lee. Shit, that was a thrill. Girl was—”