Land of Entrapment (29 page)

A different girl was at the counter and seven people were waiting today. Three cholo-looking guys, a couple of white girls, one hip-hop guy, and a skinhead girl. I noticed a small swastika on the fleshy part of her left hand between thumb and index finger.

She wore black jeans, combat boots, and a plain white T-shirt. She studied me when I came in. I slid into a chair and started browsing through a tattoo magazine. When I glanced up, she was still looking at me. Poor thing, I thought. Get out of the movement and get a girlfriend.

A white man about my age emerged from the back, a gauze bandage on his neck. He was wearing gangster clothes and a do-rag. One of the cholo guys stood up when a tattoo artist I didn’t recognize joined the guy at the counter, telling him how to take care of his new ink. I figured it was Eddie, and he fit my stereotype of tattoo artists. He was a big, solid dude with a goatee and a huge mop of hair. His arms were so covered with tattoos that it looked like he was wearing a decorated long-sleeved shirt. He, too, wore black jeans but over motorcycle boots. The cholo who had stood up followed him into the back.

I turned my attention back to the tattoo magazine when the skinhead girl addressed me. “WP?” she asked, regarding me coolly.

I answered in my easily acquired Texas accent.

“Eighty-eight.”

She nodded. “You waiting for Cody?”

That almost caught me off guard. “Who wants to know?”

A faint smile touched her lips. “Recon.”

Of course. Cody wouldn’t walk blind into a meeting like this. He was an asshole, but he wasn’t necessarily dumb. “Outside?” I offered. I unconsciously touched the key fob hanging on my belt loop, hoping Chris could hear this. Skinhead Girl got up from her chair and I followed her out into the heat. We stood in the shade in front of the building.

She leaned against the brick that separated Eight Ball from the closed dry cleaner next door, scanning the parking lot.

“The pigs up his butt?” I asked quietly, not really looking at her. I instead scanned the parking lot, too, trying to look a little nervous. It wasn’t hard.

“Maybe. We’ve had some problems.” She shrugged and pulled a battered pack of Marlboros from her front jeans pocket and pulled one out. She kept her lighter in the other front pocket. I watched as she lit up. Way to preserve the white race. She took a drag. I tried to look at her with disapproval. She either didn’t notice or ignored it.

“What are you looking for?” she asked as she exhaled smoke.

“Action. I wanna build something. I left Texas because the heat was on my home groups and I was tired of the beer and bullshit from the guys.” I shrugged and leaned carefully against the glass of Eight Ball’s front window. “Some land came open in the hill country down there and I thought we should look into it, but everybody found some excuse not to.

So I started looking here. I’m liking the East Mountains and land is cheaper, especially in the undeveloped parts.” Not bad. I’d almost believe that.

“What was your home group?” She put the cigarette to her lips, studying me. Testing.

“National Alliance, Dallas chapter. Last year we decided to rename and joined with a skin chapter. It didn’t work out. Male ego problems. They wanted to call us the Rangerskins but we thought the name White Nationalist Front fit our goals better. It got so bad that most of us quit.” I slid my hands into the pockets of my shorts and gave her a hard stare. “I want a group that doesn’t have any damn problems with leadership and is looking to plant some roots.” I hoped that was convincing.

She blew a stream of smoke out the left side of her mouth. “Sounds like we might be something you’re looking for.” She watched me. Her flat, expressionless stare creeped me out. I’d seen a look like that once before, when I was backcountry camping in Colorado a couple years ago. I was just below timberline and came face to face with a mountain lion. The cat stared at me, assessing me. I met its eyes once and quickly dropped my gaze so as not to appear that I was challenging it. Apparently, it wasn’t hungry enough to pursue a dinner out of me because it slid silently into a copse of ponderosa. I was shaking so bad after that I had to sit down for a minute. Skinhead Girl had that same kind of bored, predatory glint in her eyes.

She watched a car pull into a parking slot near the Eight Ball’s entrance, maybe twenty feet away. She quickly dropped the cigarette onto the sidewalk and stubbed it out under her right boot. I almost swore aloud. Megan’s car. Bastard. I hoped Chris was getting pictures of this. Cody shut off the engine and climbed out of the driver’s seat. He was dressed in jeans, work boots, and a navy tee decorated with a white skull and crossbones on the front. He stood about six feet tall. Slim but athletic.

Another white guy got out of the passenger side.

He was about Cody’s height and age though a bit more solidly built. I pegged him as the muscle. He wore his black jeans tucked into knee-high Doc Martens. White power fists in red decorated the black surface of his boots and his laces were also red. He wore a white T-shirt and red suspenders. Classic skin, though he needed another haircut, because stubble peppered his scalp. He wore black Ray-Bans and I noticed a few tendrils of a spider-web tattoo over the collar of his tee. The double lightning bolt of Hitler’s SS guards was etched on his inner right forearm.

Cody nodded once in greeting at Skinhead Girl as he approached. She nodded back. Then he looked at me. “Sandy?”

“Yessir,” I said, standing up a little straighter.

Skinhead Girl’s eyes narrowed. The other guy lurked in the parking lot, about ten feet from us. Keeping watch, I guessed.

“I’m Cody,” he said, extending his right hand. I shook it. I saw his eyes linger on my forearms and then move quickly to my chest. “Welcome to Spictown.”

“Thanks,” I said, trying to sound grateful. I faced him, hoping I wasn’t moving too much and smacking the key fob on my belt loop around.

“When did you get here?”

“About three months ago. It’s been kinda hard trying to tap in.”

Two cholo guys came outside to smoke. Cody moved a little farther away but didn’t say anything to them. “Well, ADR has a lot going on, and we need all the help we can get. We’re just about ready to do some big stuff.” He sounded excited.

“Yeah?” I tried to appear interested without being over-eager.

“Yep. But you’ve gotta understand we can’t just let anybody in. Fuckin’ FBI and shit. And local cops’ve been in our business, too.”

“Sure. I hope you check me out. Otherwise, I’d worry about you and this group. We had problems in Texas and nobody took it seriously. Some cop managed to get in, which was part of the reason we split off into another group. She’ll fill you in.” I motioned with my head to Skinhead Girl.

He smiled then. “I have a good feeling about you,”

he said, trying his flattery with me. “So what specifically are you looking for?”

“Land.” I figured I’d better not dance around the topic.

His eyebrows raised. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I want a piece of land where I can bring some of my family.”

“You got a husband?”

“Not yet. But I’m working on it.” I gave him a meaningful stare and felt a modicum of satisfaction to see a smile work its way across his face. Yeah, you keep thinking you’ve got a shot with me.

“That’s the right attitude.”

The guy behind him was standing with his arms across his chest. I couldn’t see his eyes behind his shades. Skinhead Girl was glaring at me. I’d obviously stepped into her territory. I bulled ahead, trying to keep my edge. “Here’s the deal. I saved up a lot of money in Texas and I’ve been looking at twenty acres in the East Mountains. It’s three miles off the main road and I have enough for a down payment. I’d like to put my vision to work but to do that, I need help. So I’m looking for investors.”

His expression hardened slightly. I guessed he had a problem with pushy women. Good thing Sage wasn’t here.

I eased up just a bit. “Or, alternatively, I’d be an investor in a plan like that. I’m really tired of a bunch of whiny do-nothing poor excuses for the white race. I want to work with white men who aren’t afraid to act like men and white women who aren’t afraid to act like women. I’m ready for the next step.” I carefully folded my arms over my chest and looked up at him expectantly.

He studied me. The guy in the shades shifted his weight again. Finally, another slow smile broke across Cody’s face. “I think we’ve got what you’re looking for. And I don’t think you’ll need to buy anything on your own. We’ve already got something going in the East Mountains. How are you with guns?”

“Please,” I scoffed. “I’m from Texas. And yes, I have a permit.”

Skinhead Girl glared at me again. She shot a glance at Ray-Bans.

Cody nodded slowly. “I think we can help you and I think there’s a place for you with us. We’ve got a meeting coming up.”

“Sounds good. When?”

“Thursday night in Edgewood.” He looked at me questioningly.

“I know where that is.”

“Okay. I’ll text you the address and time on Thursday. The meeting will probably be in the evening—can you make evening meetings?”

“Yeah. I’m off work at three,” I lied.

“Good. You’re on your own finding your way.

Think of it as your first test.” He grinned like a wolf.

“The way the meetings work is that we’ll take care of general business first and then the inner circle meets.”

He looked apologetic then. “It takes a while to make it into the inner circle.”

“Of course.” I tried to look somber.

“Okay, thanks for your time. It’ll be good to see you Thursday. Rahowa.”

“Eighty-eight,” I responded.

He turned and walked over to Megan’s car.

Skinhead Girl hadn’t moved from her position near Eight Ball’s front window. Ray-Bans followed Cody. I decided to try to pump Skinhead Girl for more information.

“So are you in the group?”

She treated me to one of her flat, vacant stares.

“Inner circle,” she said, with just a trace of venom. I wondered if maybe Cody had a few women on the side. The thought pissed me off even more.

“How long did it take?” I pushed her.

“Long enough.”

Ray-Bans finished talking to Cody and strode back over toward Skinhead Girl. Cody started Megan’s car and pulled out of the parking space. I watched as he turned right onto Central out of the parking lot. I acknowledged Ray-Bans as well. “Thanks. I’ll see you around.” I went back into Eight Ball, deciding that I’d leave through the back entrance. Maybe they’d think I was getting another tattoo or hitting the bathroom.

Regardless, I had a very bad feeling about each of them as individuals. Together, the two of them were downright scary. I moseyed through the shop and went down the hall toward the bathroom. Someone was using it so I pretended to be waiting. I stepped away from the door back into the cramped hallway and glanced toward the front. From this angle, I could see a part of the front door. Skinhead Girl entered the shop. That was my cue. I headed down the hallway toward the scuffed and dented gray metal back door.

Someone had spray-painted “Exit” in big, red puffy letters across it. Helpful.

I pushed the door open and took barely three steps before I realized Ray-Bans was waiting for me. I turned to go back inside but Skinhead Girl was already outside pushing the door shut behind her.

Fuck. Please, Chris, be listening.

“Let’s have a little talk,” Ray-Bans said quietly in a soft, deep voice.

“About what?” I asked, trying to keep panic out of my own voice.

Skinhead Girl was suddenly in my face. She was roughly my height and might have looked like Sinead O’Connor except her lips were a tad on the thin side.

“Think you’re somethin’ else, huh?” Her breath smelled faintly of stale cigarettes.

I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want to risk pissing her off more. I heard a soft click and knew without looking that Ray-Bans had opened a switchblade. Oh, shit. “What exactly do you want?” I somehow managed to keep my tone level.

“Think you can just show up and start telling us how to run our business?” She pushed me. I took a couple of steps backward. “Think you and your fuckin’ down payment and fuckin’ attitude can just come in here and tell us what to do? We’ve worked long and hard preparing and you think you can just show us the way?”

Think fast. Shit. “Look, I’m sorry if that’s what you think. As far as I’m concerned, we’re all working for the same goals.” I put my hands up in a “whoa, there,” fashion.

“You’re full of shit,” she rasped. I was almost to the back door. If I could just get there—

Ray-Bans grabbed my tee just below the neckline in his left hand before I even knew he was reaching.

He pulled me toward him and I felt a knife blade against my cheek. Holy shit. He leaned in really close.

“I smell a liar,” he said, in a tone that he might have used to say something like “I’ll take a Coke.” He put a tiny bit more pressure on the knife. I felt like I was going to wet myself.

“Hey, take it easy,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound as godawful scared as I was. “Put the knife away.”

Chris, please!

“Cody’s too soft with the ladies,” he continued.

“His dick gets in the way of his brain sometimes.”

“Fuck you,” muttered Skinhead Girl. “Be glad Cody didn’t hear you say that.”

“Look—” I began when the back door flew open.

“Is there a problem here, assholes?” Chris’s voice was low and icy.

Jesus God, thank you, thank you, thank you.

Ray-Bans quickly released me and lowered the knife. I watched him retract the blade. Chris brushed past me, a controlled anger in her stride. She stood glaring at him in full cop mode. She was only a few inches shorter. He wavered. She slowly and deliberately reached up and pulled his glasses off his face and tossed them casually onto the asphalt.

“I asked if there was a problem.”

“No.” Skinhead Girl picked up the conversation.

She sounded a little unnerved. Maybe it was the SIG

Chris packed on her right hip.

Chris slowly turned her cop glare to her and I felt a thrill to see Skinhead Girl visibly blanch. “I don’t think I asked you.” Her voice was hard and cold. I’d never heard that tone from Chris and it scared me almost as much as the confrontation with the two neo-Nazis. She reached and pulled her badge off her belt and in a motion that was so fast it almost didn’t register with me she had grabbed Ray-Bans by the collar of his shirt and shoved her badge in his face.