Gutta Mamis (3 page)

“Crown's.”

“For real?” Breeze shook her head. “Who is this bitch on the bed…oh shit!”

“What?” Tandra started unloading supplies and placing them around the room for Lenora and Breeze, to limit the time of moving back and forth. “Lenora, get to work.”

Tandra's tone was rude on purpose; it was time to reset order, get the job done, and get the fuck out of dodge. She would have to analyze this shit later.

Breeze stepped back in the main room. “Crown done sent us to a hot spot for real. Y'all know who that chick is on the bed?”

Lenora shook her head. “I was trying to find out when—”

“Nora, shut the fuck up!” Tandra spun around. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You can't keep shit to yourself…you don't know the field you in? I swear to God—” Tandra dropped the paint she was carrying; Breeze jumped and caught it before it rolled.

Breeze interjected. “Damnit, Tandra, the point is to not be seen. You think neighbors ain't gonna hear paint cans dropping and rolling across the damn floor?”

Tandra ignored Breeze, still shouting at Lenora. “—open your fucking mouth about it again, Nora, and it's you and me. For real.”

Lenora didn't look up.

Tandra's deep brown skin seemed to turn black with anger.

Breeze quietly put the paint can down, assessing the situation around her. She hadn't made it from hustling to cleaning to being a successful business owner based on stupidity. She met eyes with Tandra, and sent her a steady calm look of warning. It was a reminder: They needed Lenora to get through the job. Lenora was young and inexperienced. And, if she had to be handled, she could be dealt with later. Breeze knew that they couldn't afford to have
the job fall apart right now, not during the middle of it, not with the discovery she had just made, not with the amount of bodies that had to be eliminated.

Tandra held Breeze's gaze. She bit her lip and breathed quietly.

Lenora blinked back tears of anger as she stared at the floor. Tandra realized it might have been the first time Lenora had seen Tandra kill someone in cold blood. It was different, to kill a person like that, someone Lenora already believed was a victim and who had just survived hell. But, Tandra didn't know the fiend to give a fuck about her. Lenora was her responsibility, so was Breeze, and wasn't none of them getting twisted up in someone else's bullshit.

Nora wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

Tandra strapped her gun back on her thigh. She had been holding it without realizing it. “C'mon. Let's get this shit over with.”

“Tandra, I'ma start in the bedroom.” Breeze headed to the room.

Tandra took the hint and followed her. “Whatsup?”

“I don't know what the fuck is going on here, but this bitch here work for Detrick.”

“What?”

“I know her; she a stripper down at Mira's spot. PJ, that's her name. But she work for Detrick; set niggas up for him—”

Tandra squinted. “You thinking…”

“I don't know. But no way would Detrick kill his own bitch. They been tight for years. He called us in on this scene?”

Tandra shook her head “no.” “Crown did.”

“Well, maybe him or Detrick set someone up and it went wrong. That's probably what it is. They must have figured out the setup and killed her before they got got. You should just know…just be aware. It's gonna be some serious bloodshed around this. Detrick got kids by her.”

Tandra glanced back at Lenora. Breeze was her full partner, the one person who could handle business as efficiently as herself. “B, she was alive when we got here.”

“Huh?”

Tandra looked into Breeze's eyes.

“What you saying?”

There was no way Tandra was going to say it out loud. She glanced down at her Beretta. Breeze followed her eyes, took in the Beretta against her thick thigh and then looked at the dead woman in the bed.

The question in Breeze's eyes forced Tandra to respond.

“She went for the knife.”

Breeze's mouth dropped open, but she quickly recovered. “I heard that's her skill. She got a thing for knives.”

“I bet.”

“Let's get the job done and get the fuck outta here. We'll figure this out later.”

Four hours later, the three Cleaners prepared to depart from the scene, exhaustion seeping into their bones like arthritis. Tandra had the bullet remnants in neat Ziploc bags; she would dispose of them like she always did. Breeze walked away with the bone fragments that the Burner hadn't been able to eat through; she was responsible for their final resting place. Lenora was too new to the game to walk away with evidence of any type. She hadn't risen to that status and, after tonight, the chances that she could be trusted like that were decreasing.

Talking was at a minimum anyway during these jobs, between the painting and disposing. But tonight, Tandra had kept her mouth locked and her ears open for any sign of sabotage. She could just be paranoid. She probably was. But this job felt different, like dipping her feet into a pond of grease, leaving a nasty trail wherever she went. Tandra knew that tonight wouldn't just disappear into her memories, leaving her clients with further evidence of her excellent professionalism and a bountiful payday. Nope, tonight would be one she would have to answer for, as sure as the night was long, because tonight she had taken a life. In the name of Cleaning. A life that was connected to her main contact. There was no way this situation was happenstance, no way it wouldn't stain her in some way.

“I'm out.” Breeze pulled a baseball cap low over her eyes, and threw her hoodie on over it. Tandra noticed her eyes were glassed over. It had to be stress, Breeze never got tired during a job.

Tandra nodded. She and Breeze exchanged a pregnant pause; Breeze glanced at Lenora. Lenora remained silent, tugging back on the wig that she had snatched off earlier.

“You good, Chicken Bones?”

“Fuck you, Breeze.” Lenora's voice was quiet and unsteady.

“Yeah, you gonna be all right.” Breeze smiled. “It's the job. You understand that, right?”

Tandra kept her head down. Breeze was testing Lenora out, trying to figure out how she was going to play it. Obviously, Lenora didn't realize it.

Tandra held her breath and prayed that Lenora would woman up. Breeze wasn't like Tandra and Lenora—dropping someone who put Breeze or her enterprise at risk was nothing but the cost of doing business to her. Lenora could be the next body wrapped in plastic and dragged to the tub if she didn't play it right. Tandra could tell by Breeze's stance, her rigid shoulders and the slight slant of her head that Lenora's very existence was on the line.

Lenora sighed and finished zipping her suitcase. “Yeah, Breeze, I know. It just shook me up for a sec.” She stood up straight. “Everyone ain't like your gangsta ass, all right? Some of us ain't seen a person get killed right in front of us.” Lenora looked at both of them. “Y'all can understand that, can't you? I ain't never seen no shit like that before.”

Tandra nodded. She didn't feel any better.

Breeze's shoulders lowered a little bit and her hand moved from her hip, where she kept her 45mm. “Yeah, Scrawny, I see you.”

“Tired of your damn nicknames, bitch; I look good.” Lenora laughed.

“Aw shit.” That brought a smile out of Breeze. She looked back at Tandra. “Hit me later.”

“No doubt.”

Breeze eased out of the apartment and disappeared down the hall. A few minutes later, Lenora followed; at the end of the hall, she walked in the opposite direction than Breeze had taken. Tandra was always the last to leave the scene. She shut the door with gloved hands and headed for the exit.

Tandra went through the motions without thinking. She needed a release, a way to free her mind from the doom that hounded her. Tandra pulled into the tiny apartment that she went to immediately after jobs. She never entered her real home, where her children resided, with death's residue on her. That was a no-no. In the small efficiency apartment, Tandra keyed in the alarm code and then eyed the space to make sure it was just as she left it. Satisfied, she stripped off her wig, the gloves, her boots and the jumpsuit. All of it went into another Ziploc bag for disposal. Naked, Tandra glanced around the empty space. It was too quiet; her thoughts were able to find their way to the forefront of her mind.

Tandra clicked on the iPod that lay on the small night table next to the bed. Hezekiah Walker's “Praise Him In Advance” filled the room. Tandra stood still. The last thing she wanted to listen to was gospel music. The last thing she wanted to think about was being a murderer in the eyes of God.

Tandra clicked the small pad until “Get Down” from the Clipse filled the room. That was better. She could ride the vibes of the mellow flow and let the beat move her body without thought.

“Trust, I know them twenties real well.” Tandra whispered the lyrics as she finally climbed into the shower and turned the dial as hot as it would go. She gritted her teeth and stood under the thick blast of hot water, forcing herself to cope with the burning sensation
pelting her body. Tandra scrubbed every inch of her body as tears rolled down her face. She ignored the torture that she was putting herself through; she deserved the pain. It reminded her that she was weak, human and flawed. There couldn't be any trace of that awful place left on her body; no hint of what she had done could be on her person. All of it, the stench of death, the cleansing of filth and the life she had taken, had to swirl down the drain with the hot water and the soap suds. This was where she would leave it, in the shower stall.

Tandra finally climbed out of the shower. The cold air stung her raw skin. She methodically patted herself dry and applied a thin layer of Vaseline to her body. Her cell rang.

“Yeah.”

“Hey, babe, you hit me?”

Lyell. He was just the person Tandra wanted to hear; the one man who filled her empty spaces without question or obligation. “Yes, I did.”

“What's up?”

“I need you.” She had no room for bullshit tonight; no filters to block out the simple longing that invaded her. It was a welcome distraction.

“Damn, shorty, you are a trip.”

“Whatever.”

He paused. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” Tandra damn sure wasn't going to discuss tonight with him or anybody else. No one knew what she did. To the world, she was the owner of a successful salon and any work-related stress was in handling the mountain of stylists and specialists who all had egos as large as an elephant's ass, but varied in work ethic; normally the biggest pain in the ass was the least dependable and the loudest fight. “The usual.”

“Want me to come to you?”

That's why she more than liked Lyell; he was considerate and kind. Very patient. And very private. A rare find.

“No.” No one knew about the efficiency apartment either. Tandra was juggling life like a three-ring circus. “Can I come over?”

“Always.” Lyell chuckled. “I'll be waiting.”

“Why are you shaking?” Detrick stared down at Lenora like she was an alien. Cocoa brown with pitch-black eyes, Detrick was the finest brother Lenora had ever laid eyes on. But she would never let him know that.

“Because I am cold and tired. Are you going to let me in?” Lenora rocked back on her bowlegs and crossed her arms.

Detrick took the cigar out of his mouth and looked her up and down. “Where you coming from looking like Catwoman?”

“A job, Detrick, damn. Move out of the way.” Lenora pushed her way past the door and into Detrick's house.

“Shorty, you got me twisted, just coming over my house unannounced.”

“For real?” Lenora started looking around his space and her eyes went to the staircase. “Who the fuck you got over here?”

“Oh, you laying claim to me now?” Detrick laughed; the rich sound bounced off the high ceilings of his home. “What you gonna do if I did have someone over here?”

“You want to try me?” Lenora's hand went to her thighs and her cape fell back.

“Nora, you done came over here strapped? What the fuck?” Detrick plopped on his brown leather sofa, laughing. “What's up with you, Shorty?”

“I'm about to go.” Lenora was sick of Detrick already; tired of him always laughing at her. She turned around to leave.

“You ain't going no damn where. Bring your ass back over here.”

“Fuck you, Detrick. I had a long-ass night.”

Detrick jumped off the couch and chased after her. “Nora…” He grabbed her arm. “Why you got to be on fire like that dere?” he said with a heavy accent for a second, before switching back to his normal jargon. Detrick caught her just as she reached the door. “You know you don't want to leave.”

Lenora pushed him back. “I ain't come over here for this shit.”

“Well, Cutie, what you here for?”

Lenora closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. She could smell curry chicken in the house. Only Detrick kept Batman hours, eating curry chicken at close to five in the morning. “I'm tired as hell, Detrick.”

He pressed his body against hers. Lenora could smell the cigar smoke on his breath and the fragrant scent of weed on his tongue. “You want for me to put you to sleep, eh?”

His scent immediately relaxed her. Lenora put her hands on his chest. “Can you make the nightmares go away?” she whispered.

“You know that I can.” Detrick's voice was raspy; his tongue was already on her neck.

“Make them go away, then.” Lenora met his eyes.

“I always do.” Detrick held her gaze as he pushed against her; her arms stayed at her side. He took a step back and observed her in the body leotard, tracing a finger along her inner thigh to the crown of her pleasure. With his other hand, his finger lightly trailed along her hip, danced along the curve of her belly, slid up her long, narrow torso, and rested on her breast.