Fistful of Benjamins (7 page)

“W
hat the fuck you mean,
you want out?
” Eduardo screamed after I told him what the detectives said. Finally this nigga was showing some emotion through all of this.

“You think it just works like that: One minute you're in and the next minute you're out? This ain't the fucking postal service, Gabriella,” he barked.

“Eduardo, I don't like the way those cops ended the interview. I'm telling you, it's like they knew something and they were just waiting for the setup,” I explained with urgency, underlying my words.

Eduardo waved his hand and exhaled a windstorm of breath. This nigga was not trying to hear me when I told him I wanted to quit our little arrangement. “You don't have to be out there being all scared and shit. I really think they are snooping around, Eduardo. I have too fucking much to lose,” I said. It was the truth. Something about the way those detectives just abruptly ended the interview didn't sit right with me. I was scared all day and all night after that.

Eduardo, however, felt like everything was fine; that we had nothing to worry about.

“I'm out, Eduardo. Tell them not to send any more packages, because I'm not going to intercept them. I'll just let them go to whomever. I'm serious. I can't and won't do it anymore,” I kept insisting. Eduardo turned toward me, his face painted with an evil snarl. He rushed toward me and bulldozed into me so hard I stumbled backwards and twisted my ankle. I didn't even have time to react before he grabbed my face roughly and got close enough to it that I could damn near taste his lunch.

“Let me tell you one fucking thing. You are in it. There is no going back now, Gabriella. Understand something, these people we work for are not to be fucked with. I can't just call up the fucking deadly Calixte cartel and tell them to stop sending their fucking product. It doesn't work like that. It doesn't stop until
they
say it stops. I will not have Lance breathing down my neck about these packages, so you better continue working it out however you been working it out. These are very dangerous people we are dealing with. You are all in and there is no backing out now or ever—except if your ass ends up dead,” he breathed hard in my face. I could've sworn I could see fire flashing in his eyes. For the first time since we'd been together I felt fearful of Eduardo. The kind of fear that makes you lose your breath.

 

That evening when I got home from work, I decided I was not going to speak to Eduardo at all, after his little tirade that morning. I wanted to get to my safe, count my money that I had been stashing, and start mapping out an exit plan. Fuck what Eduardo was talking about—I was getting the fuck away from it all. I had saved enough money to at least get me started someplace else. I wanted out of this deal before I ended up going to jail or worse, dead from a bullet.

I turned my key in the lock to the apartment and stormed straight past the living room without looking. I knew Eduardo was home because I could hear voices from the TV. I knew my mother had my son, so there was no reason for me to stop, since I wasn't speaking to Eduardo enough to even say hello. I was almost past the doorway to the hallway that led to our bedrooms when I heard it.

“Ahhh, so this is the famous Gabriella,” I heard a man's voice say. I had walked right past the living room, assuming it was just Eduardo watching television alone. I hadn't even looked to notice that someone else was in the house. The voice gave me chills although I could not identify the source. Those chills quickly turned into straight- up panic.

“Mommy! Mommy! I want my mommy!” I heard Andrew call out at the top of his little voice. I stopped dead in my tracks. Dread overcame me and my heart raced painfully against my sternum. I turned back and walked into the living room to investigate now. My eyes almost came out of my head when I saw Andrew there looking like he was terrified. He was supposed to be with my mother. I hung my head low with my feet in full view. I had suddenly became lightheaded and my body was beginning to shut down. I felt like my legs would give out at any moment.

“Come join us, Gabriella,” the man said with a sinister smile planted on his lips. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. Eduardo was sitting up erect on the opposite couch, his face pale as shit, like he had seen a ghost too. I looked at him through squinted eyes, my head tilted slightly.

“Gabby . . . this—this is Lance,” Eduardo stammered. I looked back over at the man. I swallowed the tennis ball–sized lump that had formed in my throat.

“Mommy!” my son called out for me again.

“I know, baby,” I said, on the brink of tears and hysteria.

“Eduardo, how did Andrew get here?” I asked, my voice coming out raspy and hoarse. I already knew the fucking answer. Eduardo had picked up my son from my mother so that they could use him against me. I know my mother wouldn't have given my baby to anyone other than Eduardo because, just like me, she trusted him. I looked from Eduardo to Lance and back again.

Lance was a broad-shouldered hulk of a man. His hard facial features, beady eyes, charcoal-dark skin, and glistening, bald head made him look like a serial killer from a scary movie. The long scar that ran the length of his left cheek didn't help much, either. He was flanked by two big, bouncer type of dudes and he had my son sitting on his lap. I could barely lift my hand to wave, much less say anything else to this monster.

“Please, this is your home, right? So come join us for a quick minute, Gabby,” Lance said, signaling me to sit down and calling me by my nickname like we were old friends.

“Mommy!” Andrew stretched his little arms toward me and tried desperately to run to me. Lance gripped my baby tightly around his waist and he started to scream and cry like he'd been hurt. Hearing his wails ripped me to shreds inside. Tears immediately sprang to my eyes. I had done this to him . . . to us. My fucking greed had done this to my son. I closed my eyes and bit down into my jaw. My fists were curled so tight my knuckles paled. I was a mother watching her child in distress . . . not a pretty picture.

“Not so fast, little man. I need to have a chat with your mommy,” Lance said, his words coming out like snake hisses in my ears. Watching him use my son to get to me made me despise Lance and I didn't even know him.

I slowly sat down. My legs were quaking in my work boots. I looked at Lance, trying my best to keep from jumping up and gouging his eyes out.

“So I hear that one of my packages went missing,” Lance started. I didn't let him even finish. I immediately jumped up like I had springs on my ass.

“No way! I always deliver everything! I would never take anything from you or let those packages go missing! I've been doing this faithfully for eleven months—almost an entire year, and I never had anything go missing!” I blurted defensively. Lance put his hand up, halting me. My little tirade hadn't swayed him one bit.

“Gabriella, only guilty dogs bark. Now, sit the fuck down and hear me out,” he growled, yet he still had an eerie calmness to his tone. “You may speak to your chump-ass man like that, but not to me. I'm a fucking boss and you will respect me as such. Sit the fuck down,” Lance said through his teeth. Andrew was screaming, kicking, and crying harder now. Maybe Lance was pinching him or something or maybe he just wanted to be with me. Either way, I felt like my heart was being ripped out and stomped on.

I slumped back down on the chair. I could see Eduardo out of the corner of my eye and for the first time since we had been together I was completely turned off by him. I had always hated weak men all of my life. My father was a weak bitch-ass who had walked out on us. I would've never taken Eduardo for that type, but seeing him sitting there silently, letting me be accused while my son was being kept from me was enough to make me look at him like a weak piece of shit. What a fucking punk bitch I was dealing with! Eduardo was cowering at the end of the couch, not saying a word to help me. He fucking knew I would never have stolen anything from him, much less Lance—and even worse, Luca. My mind was racing in a million directions, trying to figure out what Lance was talking about. I had never messed up the deliveries. Ever.

“Now . . . I came by personally to tell you that my package of H better show up by the end of your route tomorrow or this little precious commodity you have here will really have a reason to cry . . . or maybe you'll have a reason to cry over him,” Lance said evilly. “There will be no negotiating. I want my shit or else, Gabriella.”

Lance went to set Andrew down on the floor. Before my son's little feet could fully plant on the floor he was running toward me. He jumped into my arms, sobbing. I had never felt my son hold on to me so tight in his entire life.

“Mommy, that man scary,” he said. I squeezed him tightly and closed my eyes.

“It's okay, baby. Mommy is here. Mommy is here. I'm never going to let anyone get to you again,” I spoke softly in the soft skin of my son's little neck. His little pulse was throbbing fiercely, which made mine pick up speed as well.

“We on the same page?” Lance asked me as he stood up and hovered over me and Andrew. I just shook my head. What else was I going to do? I had no idea what had happened to his package. The only explanation I could come up with was that one of Lance's packages from Miami accidentally got delivered to the wrong address. I was so nervous at work now that it was totally possible that I had started mixing things up. Now, I would have to go back over all of my last stops and find it. I just prayed that whoever received it hadn't already opened it, found the drugs, and called the police.

I
rang the bell at the address where I thought I might have mistakenly delivered Lance's package. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other as I waited for someone to answer. I prayed that this was the right address and that the person still had the package.

“C'mon. Be home. Open the door,” I whispered out loud as I looked around. I was all sorts of paranoid after that visit from Lance. I felt like my bladder would bust, my nerves were on edge so bad. I rang the bell one more time, said another quick prayer, and peeped at the huge bay window on the front of the house.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
I screamed in my head. What was I going to tell Lance now? My shoulders slumped and my stomach cramped up.

Just as I was about to turn to leave, I heard the locks clicking on the door inside. My eyes went wide with excitement.
Please let them have this package. Please let them have this package,
I chanted silently in my head.

“Hello?” a feeble old woman croaked from behind the screen door. She didn't know how happy I was to see her ass.

“Yes. Hello, ma'am. I am your mail carrier and I think I delivered the wrong package to you yesterday by mistake. I really, really need to fix it and I apologize,” I said, rushing my words out.

“Oh, yes. I remember,” the woman said. Her voice was wet and shaky, like she was going to cough up phlegm at any minute.
Yes!

“Good . . . can I get the package back and give you your correct package?” I asked, hopeful that this was going to go as smoothly as I wanted it to. “My boss will be so happy that I was able to fix this problem. I'll give you some free stamps every day for a year,” I said, trying to make small talk and ease the situation.

“Well, baby. I'm going to tell you. Me and my Edgar opened that package thinking it was ours,” the lady said. My knees immediately went weak.

“You did?” I asked almost frantically.

“Yes . . . we were looking for our delivery of adult diapers and all we found inside of that box was a bunch of coffee beans,” the lady said innocently.
Whew!
I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Yes . . . you're right. That was the package I am looking for. I have your package here. I'm sorry about you not getting your diapers. If you go get the other package I'll make this right,” I said, trying to usher the lady along. I was already thanking God they didn't find the drugs and report it.

“Okay . . . let me see what we did with it. Hold on right there,” the lady said as she disappeared from the door. I had my fingers, toes, eyes, arms, and legs crossed. It seemed like an eternity before the woman returned to the door with the box. I felt so relieved when I saw that package that a few drips of piss escaped my bladder anyway.

“Great!” I cheered. “Let me help you.” I snatched that box from her little wrinkled hands so fast I almost caused the old lady to fall over. I pushed her correct package inside, took Lance's shit, and sped down to my mail truck. I felt like singing and dancing, but I kept my cool. For the first time since I had started riding dirty on my mail route, I was excited as shit to be bringing drugs to a trap house.

Although I wasn't speaking to Eduardo, I was happy as shit to see him that day. It was more of an evil satisfaction than happiness to see him.

“Here is Lance's missing package. I was able to get it back,” I said flatly, shoving the package into Eduardo's hands. I turned to leave. I wasn't fucking with him and he knew it. I had taken Andrew and started staying with my mother. Eduardo had crossed me in the worst way when he gave my son over to Lance like that.

“Gabriella . . . wait,” Eduardo said, grabbing me by the arm. “I want to holla at you about what happened.” He looked so pitiful. He was still fine as hell, but this time, that wasn't enough for me. I wanted to spit in his fucking eye. Now he wanted to holla at me about what happened? He wasn't saying that shit when Lance was fucking threatening me with harming my son.

“I have nothing to say, Eduardo. I'll continue to deliver the packages because you bastards won't let me out of this shit. I want to continue getting paid, but other than that, I have nothing more to say to you or Lance or anyone associated with either of you,” I retorted. Eduardo let me out of his grasp.

“Lance is asking for more packages to come in every day. He is not taking
no
for an answer,” Eduardo blurted as I started to walk away. I felt like Eduardo had kicked me in the back of my head when I heard that. I whirled around so fast I almost did a full pirouette. My face was folded into the fiercest scowl I could muster.

“Tell Lance and Luca and whomever else you need to tell that I'm not fucking doing it. Enough is enough. If you want to go to jail, you find someone else to do it,” I gritted, jutting a disapproving finger in Eduardo's face.

“All I'm doing is sending the message. You know the rest. If you want another visit from Lance, suit yourself. As you can see from the other day when I had a gun stuck in my fucking mouth until I gave in, I am not a one-man army,” Eduardo said, throwing his hands up. I never said anything to him in response. I had nothing to say. I stomped away and got back in the mail truck. I drove a few blocks away. When I was finally far enough, I pulled over.

“
Agghh!
” I screamed, slamming my fists on the steering wheel over and over. “Why did you get into this shit, Gabriella! Why!” I chastised myself. I was in too deep to even pull myself out. I knew then that nothing about this was going to end well for me or my family, for that matter.