The Incident (Chase Barnes Series Book 1) (6 page)

              Esteban wanted to speak but wasn’t sure how Jamal would react if he said the wrong thing. 

“I’m not sure if I can,” he finally said.  Without realizing it he cringed at his own words.  Esteban didn’t know if he was referring to not being able to run Jamal’s drugs or ‘make it big.’  His voice was much weaker than the bold, bullying voice he used in school.  Esteban sounded like an infantile mouse.  He wasn’t sure if he should stay and earn Jamal’s respect or head for the hills.  Javier, Esteban’s older brother, was in jail at the time for being a drug runner.  He got caught with several pounds of cocaine in a knapsack during a routine traffic stop.  Now it was Esteban’s turn.  Or so he thought.

              “You gonna be a little bitch or are you gonna man up and handle your bi’ness?  You pull this shit every time you come here. Whatchoo think this is, Chuck E. Cheese?  If you ain’t gonna be a big man then you gots to get the steppin’.  I don’t got no time for these playground games, man.  You startin’ to fuck wit my bi’ness.” Jamal’s six- foot three, muscular frame towered over Esteban’s five- five, athletically- built body.  “Alls you gotta do is take the shit in this paper bag four blocks to the park and give it to a guy in a green Explorer.  Make sure you get my money first before you give him the shit.”

              Esteban inflated himself a bit as Jamal backed away to grab the paper bag off a plastic patio table doubling as a dining room table.  “Then I come right back here?” He asked.  “What if he doesn’t give me the money?”

              Jamal’s cell phone blared some rap song as it’s ring tone.  He unclipped it off of his belt loop before he could answer Esteban’s questions.  “He better give you the fucking money.” 

              Jamal left the living room towards the kitchen to conduct his conversation privately.  He quickly returned to find Esteban roaming the living room area.

              “What’s your deal?” Jamal asked.  “I remember when your brother used to bring you around these parts.  You couldn’t’ve been more than three or four.”

              “I remember,” Esteban said.

              “Your brother was good.  I let him handle a lot of business for me.  He was reliable, trustworthy, and a real soldier.”

              “I remember.”

              “You want to know what I remember?  I remember you sitting in the corner while we had a bunch of girls up in here blowing lines of coke off each other and getting into some kinky shit,” Jamal said.  “These bitches will do whatever they gotta do to get their fix.”

              “I remember.”

              “You still got that burn mark on your hand from when you stupidly tried to touch a boiling pot of rock?” Jamal asked.  He stepped closer to Esteban and Esteban couldn’t help but let his eyes wander.

              “Yup,” Esteban said.

              “Business has never been the same since Javier got busted.  Guess he wasn’t as much of a soldier as he appeared to be,” Jamal said.

              “Okay,” Esteban said.

              “Where you goin’ little ‘un?” Jamal asked.

              Esteban was a deer in headlights.  “Nowhere.”

              “So you in?  This is your last chance.  Your brother said you might be a little bitch.  Buck up or bitch out.  It’s your choice.”  As if Jamal’s booming voice wasn’t posturing enough for Esteban to feel inferior, Jamal stepped into Esteban’s personal space and used his large frame to intimidate him further.

              Feeling like he was left with no choice, Esteban agreed.  Again.

FOURTEEN

            
 
Esteban took the paper bag from Jamal and headed for the dark, dreary, and damp streets of Paterson.  He had been on these streets on a nightly basis.  Walking and hanging out with his crew.  But now he was out there all on his own, which made him realize his fear.  With his crew, Esteban had no issue robbing and stealing goodies from the local bodegas and knocking over fruit stands at the local markets, using the stolen fruit as ammo to fend off the manager giving chase.  Even the occasional elder trying to make it home would get pushed down.  Graffiti on the bus stops and vandalizing the park benches were their forms of amusement.  Things were different when Esteban had his boys. 

              Even school was a safe haven for him.  However, there weren’t any school nights in the street game.  Despite the fights, the thrown chairs, and flipped desks, Esteban knew that school was a place of safety.  A place where he could get the attention, albeit negative attention, he craved.  A place where Esteban had a chance to feel like a real person and not just another product of the system.

              This was probably the sixth or seventh time Esteban had been recruited to run drugs for Jamal, but this was the first time he had to do it at night.

              Esteban could see the green Explorer from his vantage point on the corner but stopped in his tracks when he saw the silhouette of
two
adult figures sitting in the car.  Jamal had said it would be just one.  Jamal had done business with a guy in a green Explorer a handful of times over the recent weeks but had never met him directly.  That’s why he hired runners.  To take care of the leg work while Jamal sat back and collected the cash.  He didn’t give a shit who bought up his supply as long as they abided by his agreed- upon rules over the phone.  The buyer had to agree to the strategic transaction location, come prepared with the right amount of money, and not bullshit the kid that was making the run.  Otherwise Jamal was right there ready to take matters into his own hands.  Simple and yet such effective business strategies.  

              The rain began to steadily drip again but Esteban’s nerves forced him to block out anything but the two silhouettes sitting in the green Explorer.  He took a deep breath, built up his confidence, just like Javier taught him to, and stepped off the curb to approach the SUV.  With the paper bag in his right hand, Esteban used his left to adjust the blue Dodger hat on his head.  He couldn’t help but be distracted by the rhythmic sound the windshield wipers periodically made. 

              Esteban didn’t know if he was supposed to say anything to the driver.  Anything to the passenger?  Just give them the bag and wait for the money or wait for the money before giving them the bag?  The guys in the SUV must know what to do, Esteban thought.  He sidled up to the driver’s side window just as the heavily tinted window dropped down.  Esteban couldn’t figure out if it was normal to see the buyers wearing ski masks to conceal their identity.  But he knew he’d never seen it before.  Both men were wearing identical black ski masks and matching black sweatshirts.  One had a hood the other didn’t.  Esteban stared down at his feet then at the paper bag he indecisively held in both hands.  He watched himself gently toss it back and forth from hand to hand.

              “What you got for me, little man?” The driver asked.  Esteban lifted the bag close to his body to show the driver that he had what he was looking for.  He didn’t know what was in the bag but he had a pretty good idea.  The bag was slowly making his way through the window when Esteban noticed a pit bull sitting in the back seat behind the passenger.  Then his eyes noticed a third ski- mask laden man sitting behind the driver. 

              “I- I- I have this,” Esteban stuttered.  And before he could get the money from the driver, the rear driver’s side door swung open and the third man pulled Esteban inside the truck. 

FIFTEEN

The wheels spun so violently that the squeals could be heard for blocks.  The force of the acceleration swung the door Esteban was dragged through shut on its own.  No words were spoken.  The only sounds were from the agitated pit bull, spontaneously disturbed by Esteban’s violent entrance into the backseat.  Esteban was twisted across the lap of the man in the backseat while his mouth was covered by the man’s gloved hand.  The masked assailant’s other hand was wrapped across Esteban’s chest, forming a human seatbelt. 

              Esteban attempted to fight against the strength of his holder but surrendered after a few attempts.  His anger began to boil within him and started flailing like a beached tiger shark.  He attempted thrust his head back and head butt his captor in the jaw but the man was able to bob and weave around the attempted blows.  A shot to the left clavicle was the best Esteban could do.

              “Chill him the fuck out!” the driver shouted, his voice booming throughout the confines of the vehicle. 

              Esteban was beginning to feel like he was in a restraint hold, the type they put him in at school when he was in a crisis situation.  And like school, his feet were wildly kicking about.  The difference between school and his current situation was that there were no restrictions on the amount of force or level of power his current captors could use.  And then there was a sudden shattering crash.   Esteban had put his left foot through the car door’s window.  His vision was starting to blur and the veins in his forehead were about to burst.  His strength was enough to break some of the restraint holds at school but he was shocked when the arms of his captor didn’t budge. 

              The driver was still speeding at a blinding pace down Madison Avenue, crossing over Ninth, then Tenth before making a right on Eleventh.  After another right onto East Eighteenth Street the car suddenly slowed.  The driver wanted to take a scenic route to get to his destination.  Just in case someone saw him snatch Esteban off the streets and called the police.  But he didn’t hear any sirens.  He wove through Fulton Place and East York Avenue until he was on Lafayette.  The Explorer came to a screeching halt on Lafayette next to a baseball field.  The driver and the front passenger exited the car and swung the back doors wide open.  One grabbed the dog while the other grabbed Esteban.  Esteban was still fighting hard and giving as much resistance as his body would muster.  He was releasing what would thought to be gut- wrenching screams to someone who might’ve cared.  He felt his right foot make contact with someone’s flesh. The victim grunted.  Esteban’s body lost its strength and fell limp as he felt his wrists and ankles be manhandled by two of the thugs. 

              “C’mon, yo, he ain’t that heavy,” one of them loudly whispered.  Esteban saw that all three were still wearing their ski masks, concealing their identity. 

              “Shut the fuck up!” The third one commanded.  Esteban could hear the third kidnapper, walking next to his horizontal body, carrying something that sounded like chains.  He couldn’t see because it was too dark.

              “You carry the little motherfucker then,” he retorted.

              Esteban gave one more attempt at writhing himself free but the grips on his wrists and ankles were too strong.  He could hear the feet underneath him scuffle along the infield of the baseball field.  Clouds of dust began to simmer around him.  Suddenly, Esteban was dropped near home plate.  The thud temporarily knocked the wind out of him.  It only took a few short inhalations to regulate his breath.  He realized he was free of the vice grips and wanted to make a run for it but then he heard the click of the gun in his left ear.  Esteban, for the first time in as long as he can remember, felt scared. 

              “Now, are you going to shut the fuck up?” The biggest of the three guys asked, still resting the gun behind Esteban’s ear.  Esteban could do nothing but casually nod an agreement.

              When the kidnappers ran back to the car and sped away, Esteban was chained to the fenced in backstop of the baseball field. 

SIXTEEN

I woke up Wednesday morning once again feeling rejuvenated.  I had my usual bowl of cereal, a yogurt, and a glass of orange juice.  No coffee for me.  Lindsey was back at work by the time I was out of bed but I was lying awake to see her leave.  Over my bowl of Cocoa Puffs and strawberry banana yogurt, I sorted through Esteban’s incident reports.  Principal Garvey was nice enough to let me make a copy of them to look over at home.

              There must’ve been well over a hundred incident reports describing various situations Esteban had been involved in, either provoking or instigating a fight or argument.  Each incident report was to be thoroughly completed by the staff member or members who witnessed the incident.  The writer, who was usually the primary witness to the incident, had to fill out the student’s name, program, since they were sent to their home districts, the homeroom teacher, the reporter’s name along with date and time of incident as well as who, if any, were the victims.  The location was to be checked off from a series of boxes listing everything from the bus to the cafeteria to somewhere in the community.  The next section asked the writer to describe in a brief sentence of what initiated the incident followed by what types of behaviors were exhibited during this incident, such as disruptive or disrespectful behavior, fighting, bullying, or possession of weapons and stealing, among others.