Rehab’s Protégé
Carol had been out of rehab one month; she’d been in for one year. Carol was addicted to speed and loved to swallow capfuls of GHB. She’d hit another car, her second DUI and we'd paid for her lawyer. She would’ve been locked up for five years had we not gotten her off with a rehab term. We paid over thirty thousand to get her out and we were pretty much broke after that but Carol was like a little sister to us and we felt the necessity to take care of our own.
After she was released, she immediately hit the streets and met up with this guy Luis Zapata. Luis was a manufacturer with three meth factories buried in the valley. Within the month, she’d managed to rack up a bill of $3,000. Given that she probably did the full amount of drugs instead of selling them as she’d hustled him for initially to get back on her feet, it was no surprise that on the fourth week, she’d gotten into a car wreck again, this time killing someone.
We paid for another lawyer. We couldn’t get her out, but we cut her time from seven to five years. She'd probably be out in three.
Favors
"Griff, I gotta ask you a favor.” Carol said, after smoking a bong load of speed.
“What more could you possibly need?” I asked. I grabbed a cigarette off my coffee table and lit it with my favorite Colibri which she would inevitably pocket before departing.
“I have a debt, I have to pay or I have a feeling my family will end up paying. You know what I’m saying, Grifter?” She said, nervously pulling her long black hair up and then twisting it with precision into a bun. She was tall, too thin, her eyes slanted sleepily with a bright blue glow. She was an Asian-American trust fund adopted child, which equated her to being immoral, spoiled, and without the understanding of a dollar earned.
“How much?” I asked.
“A little over three grand.” She fidgeted. I nodded. She went to my phone and called him.
I went with Carol to meet Luis the first time. She explained that she was going to prison and that I was going to take care of her debt. We exchanged cell phone numbers and he said he’d call me later in the week. It seemed simple enough.
Three Days Later
Luis called me three days later. “Grifter, meet me at the green church.” He gave me directions to the church. Back out to the valley. I hopped on the ten freeway in my 1963 Cadillac Seville. When I got there, I could feel the change in the atmosphere.
I wasn’t paranoid when I saw the pigeons fly upon my arrival, I knew it was a signal. I parked my car across the street. I strolled into the green church. My cell phone rang.
“You’re at the wrong church, asshole.” Luis said on the other end before I could even say hello. I guess after his greeting, I didn’t regret it much.
“It’s green.” I said.
“It’s the other green church.” He hung up with that. Here I am, white, tatted down with sleeves, driving a classic car in the valley, armed and ready for the worst. I walked out of the green church I’d entered and looked down the block, almost kitty corner was another green church. I was starting to realize that I was in some sort of nightmare that I might not wake from.
I walked up the steps to the second green church. He was standing there with two goons. They stopped me at the last step to the top. Luis instructed them to search me. They took my gun.
“How much you got on you?” Luis said.
“Fifteen.” I said. I pulled my cigarettes out of my breast pocket. I lit a cigarette and waited for him to say something.
“That’s not what she owes me.” he said.
“Okay.” I said.
“Do you know how much she owes me, Griff?” he asked. He was angry, he wanted to make me angry.
“Three grand.” Was what I remembered us discussing last.
“No.” He said, he paused waiting for me to come to my own defense. I shrugged. “She owes me,” He paused calculating a number in his mind that would be so outrageous that I would be forced to fight him and then get killed by someone ready to snipe me down the block. “She owes me twenty-thousand.” He said stretching the denomination.
“Okay.” I said. I couldn’t argue with him.
“Actually, now that I think about it,” He stroked his mustache. “Thirty thousand.” He said.
“Okay.” I said. His frustration with my stability mixed a deadly cocktail. I gave him the fifteen hundred in an envelope.
“I will call you for our next meeting, go.” He dismissed me.
“Alright.” I pivoted and went down the stairs, I could see kids playing football down the street by my car. One of the litter backed up into my car trying to catch the ball, I had a feeling that something was going on but I wasn’t sure what.
I walked slowly, aware of my surroundings like a tweeker is aware of every electronic vibration through a chord to the plug. When I got in the car, I noticed a bag of dope had been tossed into it. Those kids weren’t playing football. I was in a new league as of now.
Stolen Goods
Luis called me a few days later.
“You stole my shit, you owe me.” He said.
“I didn’t steal your shit. Your little mafia tossed that shit into my car.” Last time I’ll leave my top down I thought. “Griff, are you calling me a liar?”
Forever looking for the challenge with me, I wouldn’t give it to him.
“Nope.” I said. I picked up my bottled water, took off the cap, and sipped it while I waited for his rage.
“You have to pay me for the thirty-thousand now, and for the speed you stole.” This was his attempt to put me into distress. He did.
“I want the money for the speed; you have two days.” This made things a little tense, but I didn’t snap. I just ran through my mental rolodex while he ranted and demanded more money. We got off the phone and I made some calls. I could have the speed off my hands within two hours, which was a stroke of luck.
At the Green Church Again
Two days later, I met Luis at the green church, which was a game to him; I never seemed to meet him at the “right” green church during the course of our engagement. I gave him the money for the speed and another grand on top of it, he was infuriated.
As time passed, there were a few occasions when the little futbol players of the block would toss their shit into my car. Over time, I learned not to take my car into the “area” where he would meet me. I would park my car nearby and take the bus from there. This, of course, pissed him off more.
He threw me off one day by asking me to meet him at a different location. It was more like a warehouse, when I entered the smell of ether reeked. I was in the kitchen. He’d set me up to know where his warehouses were, I would never escape him now, I was too much of a threat or asset in his eyes.
“Griff, I need that money by tomorrow, how much do we have left?” He asked. I knew we were about to negotiate again and I knew I would lose again.
“About fifteen grand left, Luis.” I said. I reached for my cigarettes and thought about it twice, I might blow the place up. Then I lit it anyway. Nothing happened.
“No, more like twenty-five, I think.” He said, stroking his mustache. I shrugged. His temper flared through his nostrils and dripped down his forehead with sweat. He couldn’t beat me, but he’d try.
It was that day, thinking myself slick, I drove home after walking out of the neighborhood confines that I got home and saw two guys across the street waiting, I know my block and keep security cameras with eyes as far down the street as one can get, these people were new to the territory, it seemed obvious to me, but then again, maybe I was being paranoid. I think since my mother died, I hadn’t had much of a sense of fear. I just sank lower into the world that was going under.
I opened my car door. I was about to close it when I could see through the corner of my eye that they’d shifted their positions too quickly and I was about to be ambushed. Gun shots fired, I fell back into my car. I was lying on my back in the front seat, I carefully moved my hand to open the glove compartment. Inside, I always kept a gun. I pulled it out and checked it for bullets, it was loaded and ready to go. I contemplated my out, or lack thereof.
I heard a car peel out down my street. I waited for a while. It was quiet. I figured they thought when I fell back into the car that I had died. I sat up, put the gun back in the glove box, locked the car, noticed the nick in the paint and went upstairs to my apartment.
Unless I was given other instructions, I met Luis every Friday. His guys had shot at me on Tuesday. I had laid low, hadn’t left my apartment and my surveillance cameras had not proved any traffic on the block for follow up.
It almost seemed like this was my destination in life. My prior life as a successful tattoo artist off the Sunset strip was the dream. Since Carol’s departure, my life was consumed by her debt. I didn’t sell drugs prior to this episode except for a boat load of ecstasy at nightclubs here or there. I didn’t really do drugs in excess until I felt I had to stay up all night to make sure no one was about to bust into my house. I didn’t accrue debt or run with mafia connected drug lords though I’d always had acquaintances of all walks of life.
Before I became a tattoo artist I worked at a gun shop on Washington Blvd. I managed to I collect a fine armory of weapons. Various antiques, illegal but notable guns, bullet proof vests some of which were military issued, and I had taken up shooting. I was a member and third place winner of the International Practical Shooting Confederation. My speed and accuracy was on point. This situation had been cutting into my tattooing hours and I didn’t want to bring my drama into the shop or innocent lives.
Man, after this stint, if I lived, I was going on a vacation back to Japan for a few months. Carol was sitting clueless and careless in a cell scratching off tallies till she could score in the outside world and when she was released her parents would have a new car, apartment, and comfortable life waiting for her again.
Luis did not know that I hadn't died. He didn’t call me nor did I call him. I didn’t want to Welch on my debt so on Friday, as usual, I drove back toward the valley and met him at the warehouse. When I walked in I think I saw him turn pale.
“What are you doing here?” Luis said, the spittle’s were forming at the sides of his mouth. I recognized one of the gunmen in the corner of the office area, eating beef jerky. I smiled at him.
“I came to repay the debt, that’s okay right?” I said acting as though nothing had happened to deter me from being there. “I took the bus all the way to get here, I figured you’d want your cash, you do don’t you?” I asked. Luis was fuming. It seemed comical almost, or like a bad movie, yes, I was still alive.
He took the envelope of $3,000. He told me that he’d call me to let me know when to meet him next.
Carol Calls
That evening, Carol called me collect, as if she hadn’t run up enough debt that she’d never pay.
“Griff, Luis had someone tell me what happened, he’s going to kill you and it’s all my fault.” She sobbed.
“I knew when I got into this that I might not come out of it.” I said. I did. Nothing about Carol was easy. I knew that Luis was known as a drug lord. I knew that I had to right her wrongs, despite the fact that she’d never done anything but keep me company. It was the right thing to do. Doing the right things for wrong people is how I’ve lived my life. I can’t change it.
So, it was true that Luis wanted me dead. She had spoken with him and begged him not to kill me. It was my fault for being white and having an attitude of superiority. I should’ve fought him and ended my life earlier in the game. Now I was indebted to him, a slave to his trade, and gave him all the profit. My existence was just as machine cog for Carol. She’d talked Luis into having someone else meet with me for payments, figuring that if he wasn’t constantly reminded of my existence, maybe, he would not be so frustrated that he could not taunt me into a fight.
That’s when I met Relleno. Relleno was a gang member who sold weaponry to Luis and his runners. He was reliable, quick, efficient and owed Luis a favor.
Relleno and I met on a Friday, at Venice Beach. He was coming closer to my side of town and much more comfortably. Darwin and Sean hung back by the Pavilions, my former school area and we stood by the restroom looking out onto the beach mid afternoon. The air was warm, the light breeze brought the scent of patchouli and suntan oil over me.
“So you escaped an assassination?” Relleno asked me.
“I guess so, they’ve come by twice shooting. There are some gangs on my street, you never know, maybe they’re a bad shot?” I shrugged. Relleno laughed, he was the first one of Luis’ goons who didn’t seem like a goon, someone who had a sense of humor.
We talked a little shop – guns, drugs, tattoos. We didn’t say too much between us, just enough. He said he’d see me in a couple of days and said to be careful, he had a feeling the gangs might be upset around 3:00 AM tonight. I nodded.
After a short while, Relleno would come over to my house, rather than meet on the street once a week to collect the money for Luis. We’d talk, sometimes go out to eat or he’d hang around and play video games before his next errand. I continued to sell what I needed to from Luis to pay off the debt, inviting a strange nocturnal world into my life. It was Relleno who told me the ways of the sleepless. Their need to fix things that had to be taken a part completely first, the strange grifter mentality of always one-upping someone, the thievery and the loss of social consciousness.
Eventually Relleno and I worked out some deals where I sold guns that had been delivered via the government to him along with various military gear once it was too hot to keep around. If anyone thinks that the government doesn’t implant violence on the street they are wrong. They find people like Relleno, violent gang members, to sell arms to. They figure it will only keep the population in check and if confronted, problems seem to vanish. Often, I kept his packages for myself. I think I would’ve been a great militia member, but that requires a person to live in Montana and I felt those freaks in compounds were crazy, I wasn’t going out like that.
“Grifter, you’re almost paid off.” Relleno said to me one night. “Luis wants me to kill you.” He continued to thumb the controller on to the PS2. I was putting together a computer cooled by water, a new hobby, a project one of my nocturnal friends had told me was impossible, so I had to do it.
“When are you going to kill me?” I asked. I searched for my mini screwdriver while he continued to play the video game.
“I am suppose to kill you by Thursday, Compadre.” Relleno was heartless. He didn’t just do drive-by shootings, he’d gotten so out of control with the deals he’d been making that he had a collection of grenades and instead he’d do drive-by grenade throwing. He blew up his competition’s house the week before and it was frightening that the cops had not arrested him, but they either they couldn’t, and more than likely they wouldn’t. He was doing exactly what was wanted of him.
He was concentrating on the game not looking at me and I didn’t look at him while I spread out each component in order that I would need onto the floor in front of me.
“I think it’s time that you do something for yourself Grifter, this man will not be happy until you are dead.” He paused the game, reached around himself blindly for his coca-cola and took a swig and then resumed playing.
I stared at him in wonder, grabbed my cigarettes from the coffee table and lit one.
“So, when do I kill him?” I asked. There was a knock at my door. It was Antonio. Antonio worked with Relleno and came over a lot too. I got up from my work area and walked to the door and answered it. Antonio seemed flustered.
“Relleno, Luis wants you to move up the deadline.” he said. No hello Griff, just directly to Relleno and I never interrupted, I always stayed back and watched things unfold.
“When?” Relleno said. I wanted to joke and tell them to stop talking about me, I was standing right there, but I stayed silent. In my apartment, I have a gun within reach in twelve spots. I was standing at number eleven.
“He wants you to meet him.” Relleno stopped his game and turned everything off.
“I’ll see you later Griff,” he said. I nodded.
My Day
I was sitting in my living room, my back was hurting and I wanted to know when my death sentence was coming. I listened to Portishead while putting my computer together. A few girls had come over and left. They were pretty girls, talking too fast, thinking they were too cool to hang out at the drug dealers house and too eager to give themselves away. I saw girls like this all day long in the tattoo shop. They acted like they were at a nail salon, telling secrets, techniques, cheating cover ups, the things I learned should have turned me against women for life. If that hadn’t, this situation should have.
Antonio and Relleno came back around seven o’clock. They were in strange moods. Normally they were calm and easy going, tonight they were edgy and short.
“Griff, we’re gonna let you have your day.” Relleno told me. I knew what this meant. “Get out three guns that we don’t have to worry about.” He said. I retrieved a couple of choices for us after searching for a few minutes. I was hyped up to get this over with. I didn’t know how they planned to get me in and out of the neighborhood without being noticed, I don’t know how I could get in and out without my car. I’d have to take it. The probability of me surviving this was close to none, but I was going to die anyway, might as well die trying.
The guys wanted to make sure that Luis was going to be alone. The deal was that around ten o’clock Relleno would call Antonio and I and tell us that he was going to meet Luis. Relleno would tell Luis that the job was done and I was no longer an annoyance, which, was all I’d ever truly been. We played poker, smoked cigarettes, and smoked some more.
Carol had heard that I was going to be put down and she called crying hysterically saying goodbye to me. I told her not to worry, I’d signed up for this life. She told me how sorry she was for all the wrong she’d done, the careless behavior, how grateful she was to have had me in her life as a mentor and brother. Hearing these affections from her threw me. She’s never been thankful for grateful for shit. She’d finally come to realize how much I meant to her and now it was too late.
At ten there was no call from Relleno. My mind raced with thoughts of the cops finally getting sick of his antics and grenade bombings, finding a car full of dope and him being arrested somewhere near the valley. We were instructed not to call him, so we waited and around one in the morning, he came in.
“It’s taken care of.” He said. I stood up from my kitchen dining table.
“I thought I was going to do it.” I said. He shook his head.
“No, muchacho, we had to keep you occupied.” He smiled and slapped me on the back. I hadn’t killed a man, but in essence I did.
Luis has a Brother
Luis had three meth labs in the valley that no one wanted to fuck with. Antonio, Relleno and I saw an opportunity and we seized it. For the next six months I knew what it was like to have steady income, no solicitation needed, just drones by the dozen coming in and walking out. I could buy whatever I wanted. I drove my Caddy into The valley and told the cooks to break me off to check the quality. I was higher than life and alive.
It turned out that Luis had a brother who use to run another meth lab once upon a time. Luis wanted to kill his brother to have all the profit, so he had the lab blown up. The kicker was that Luis’ brother Emmanuel, escaped badly burned, but alive. When the word had finally legitimized itself that Luis was dead and had no intention of rising, he came back to the valley and took his spot on the throne and we left the meth cooking business.
Carol Comes Back Around
Carol was released a while later. When she got out we hung out a few times. It was the same as always. I’d go to her house and her mother would love me because I understood Carol and took care of her, despite her clear lack of understanding or care. We caught up on old times and within her first month out again, she was getting high.
At some point, she’d realized I wasn’t broke and that I usually had an abundance of speed and she started to use me. After using me wasn’t efficient enough, she stole from me and had the nerve to come around as if she’d never taken thousands out of my drawers or bags of dope out of the cupboards like a neighbor borrowing sugar thanklessly.
For all she’d said the night I almost died, the drugs had washed her mind clean of remorse or the consequences of her addiction. One evening we started bickering and the friendship had reached its pinnacle.
“Carol, I don’t want to say this, but for my sanity I have to. I risked my life for you, you didn’t care. I paid a debt for you that stole my life. You don’t care, you’re only here for the drugs. Get out, and don’t come back.”
Her sense of Asian pride kicked in and her obvious disdain for courtesy. She told me what to do with myself and stormed out.
Present Day
Six years later, I’m sitting in my living room with Linda. She’s staring at me with wide-eyed wonder while I play video games on my computer. We are talking about the internet and various social services it offers.
“I hate it when people get upset because you move them out of your top eight on Myspace. However, I can’t help but say that when you put me in your top eight; it kind of made my day.” She smiles. She tells me a story about her annoying tweeker neighbor who always throws a fit when she’s not in Linda’s top eight and how it annoys her. I listen, I always listen.
“You think that’s bad,” I tell her. I reach to the drawer by me, get a glass pipe, and back my own stash of speed into it. I take a hit and then proceed with the conversation. “I can’t change my top eight now.”
“Why not?” She asks.
“It’s funny that we’re talking about that tonight. A few months ago, my friend Carol, she’s number four, but I can move her to eight, as long as I keep her in the top eight. Well, we haven’t talked in six years, but a while back when I joined up I got a message to be her friend. I don’t know why I clicked yes, but I did. She’s been in my top eight since then and I’m in her’s but we don’t talk at all. It’s almost like a secret agreement.” I say.
“You haven’t spoken for six years, you’re in each other’s top eight and you don’t communicate.” She repeats outloud to make sure she has it correct. I nodd.
“Explain how that worked.” She says. She’s always so curious.
“It’s a long story.” I tell her. I get the AOL CD case from underneath the coffee table and put in some rocks for her, she likes to snort, thinks that smoking is graduating to a new level, little does she know. I smash the speed until there are nice fine granules, she forgets to do that and I hear her sniffling all night, when I remember to set her up I try to make sure she’s not killing her septum. I hand her the CD case and she opens the box, sets the size line she wants and then lays down on my Persian pillows that occupy the floor.
“Okay, well I have all the time in the world.” She lays back to get the drip. I being to tell her about Carol and the two green churches. She listens, telling me how I should write this memoir down and make a film out of it.
The End.
© 2007 Lola Nation
Carol had been out of rehab one month; she’d been in for one year. Carol was addicted to speed and loved to swallow capfuls of GHB. She’d hit another car, her second DUI and we'd paid for her lawyer. She would’ve been locked up for five years had we not gotten her off with a rehab term. We paid over thirty thousand to get her out and we were pretty much broke after that but Carol was like a little sister to us and we felt the necessity to take care of our own.
After she was released, she immediately hit the streets and met up with this guy Luis Zapata. Luis was a manufacturer with three meth factories buried in the valley. Within the month, she’d managed to rack up a bill of $3,000. Given that she probably did the full amount of drugs instead of selling them as she’d hustled him for initially to get back on her feet, it was no surprise that on the fourth week, she’d gotten into a car wreck again, this time killing someone.
We paid for another lawyer. We couldn’t get her out, but we cut her time from seven to five years. She'd probably be out in three.
Favors
"Griff, I gotta ask you a favor.” Carol said, after smoking a bong load of speed.
“What more could you possibly need?” I asked. I grabbed a cigarette off my coffee table and lit it with my favorite Colibri which she would inevitably pocket before departing.
“I have a debt, I have to pay or I have a feeling my family will end up paying. You know what I’m saying, Grifter?” She said, nervously pulling her long black hair up and then twisting it with precision into a bun. She was tall, too thin, her eyes slanted sleepily with a bright blue glow. She was an Asian-American trust fund adopted child, which equated her to being immoral, spoiled, and without the understanding of a dollar earned.
“How much?” I asked.
“A little over three grand.” She fidgeted. I nodded. She went to my phone and called him.
I went with Carol to meet Luis the first time. She explained that she was going to prison and that I was going to take care of her debt. We exchanged cell phone numbers and he said he’d call me later in the week. It seemed simple enough.
Three Days Later
Luis called me three days later. “Grifter, meet me at the green church.” He gave me directions to the church. Back out to the valley. I hopped on the ten freeway in my 1963 Cadillac Seville. When I got there, I could feel the change in the atmosphere.
I wasn’t paranoid when I saw the pigeons fly upon my arrival, I knew it was a signal. I parked my car across the street. I strolled into the green church. My cell phone rang.
“You’re at the wrong church, asshole.” Luis said on the other end before I could even say hello. I guess after his greeting, I didn’t regret it much.
“It’s green.” I said.
“It’s the other green church.” He hung up with that. Here I am, white, tatted down with sleeves, driving a classic car in the valley, armed and ready for the worst. I walked out of the green church I’d entered and looked down the block, almost kitty corner was another green church. I was starting to realize that I was in some sort of nightmare that I might not wake from.
I walked up the steps to the second green church. He was standing there with two goons. They stopped me at the last step to the top. Luis instructed them to search me. They took my gun.
“How much you got on you?” Luis said.
“Fifteen.” I said. I pulled my cigarettes out of my breast pocket. I lit a cigarette and waited for him to say something.
“That’s not what she owes me.” he said.
“Okay.” I said.
“Do you know how much she owes me, Griff?” he asked. He was angry, he wanted to make me angry.
“Three grand.” Was what I remembered us discussing last.
“No.” He said, he paused waiting for me to come to my own defense. I shrugged. “She owes me,” He paused calculating a number in his mind that would be so outrageous that I would be forced to fight him and then get killed by someone ready to snipe me down the block. “She owes me twenty-thousand.” He said stretching the denomination.
“Okay.” I said. I couldn’t argue with him.
“Actually, now that I think about it,” He stroked his mustache. “Thirty thousand.” He said.
“Okay.” I said. His frustration with my stability mixed a deadly cocktail. I gave him the fifteen hundred in an envelope.
“I will call you for our next meeting, go.” He dismissed me.
“Alright.” I pivoted and went down the stairs, I could see kids playing football down the street by my car. One of the litter backed up into my car trying to catch the ball, I had a feeling that something was going on but I wasn’t sure what.
I walked slowly, aware of my surroundings like a tweeker is aware of every electronic vibration through a chord to the plug. When I got in the car, I noticed a bag of dope had been tossed into it. Those kids weren’t playing football. I was in a new league as of now.
Stolen Goods
Luis called me a few days later.
“You stole my shit, you owe me.” He said.
“I didn’t steal your shit. Your little mafia tossed that shit into my car.” Last time I’ll leave my top down I thought. “Griff, are you calling me a liar?”
Forever looking for the challenge with me, I wouldn’t give it to him.
“Nope.” I said. I picked up my bottled water, took off the cap, and sipped it while I waited for his rage.
“You have to pay me for the thirty-thousand now, and for the speed you stole.” This was his attempt to put me into distress. He did.
“I want the money for the speed; you have two days.” This made things a little tense, but I didn’t snap. I just ran through my mental rolodex while he ranted and demanded more money. We got off the phone and I made some calls. I could have the speed off my hands within two hours, which was a stroke of luck.
At the Green Church Again
Two days later, I met Luis at the green church, which was a game to him; I never seemed to meet him at the “right” green church during the course of our engagement. I gave him the money for the speed and another grand on top of it, he was infuriated.
As time passed, there were a few occasions when the little futbol players of the block would toss their shit into my car. Over time, I learned not to take my car into the “area” where he would meet me. I would park my car nearby and take the bus from there. This, of course, pissed him off more.
He threw me off one day by asking me to meet him at a different location. It was more like a warehouse, when I entered the smell of ether reeked. I was in the kitchen. He’d set me up to know where his warehouses were, I would never escape him now, I was too much of a threat or asset in his eyes.
“Griff, I need that money by tomorrow, how much do we have left?” He asked. I knew we were about to negotiate again and I knew I would lose again.
“About fifteen grand left, Luis.” I said. I reached for my cigarettes and thought about it twice, I might blow the place up. Then I lit it anyway. Nothing happened.
“No, more like twenty-five, I think.” He said, stroking his mustache. I shrugged. His temper flared through his nostrils and dripped down his forehead with sweat. He couldn’t beat me, but he’d try.
It was that day, thinking myself slick, I drove home after walking out of the neighborhood confines that I got home and saw two guys across the street waiting, I know my block and keep security cameras with eyes as far down the street as one can get, these people were new to the territory, it seemed obvious to me, but then again, maybe I was being paranoid. I think since my mother died, I hadn’t had much of a sense of fear. I just sank lower into the world that was going under.
I opened my car door. I was about to close it when I could see through the corner of my eye that they’d shifted their positions too quickly and I was about to be ambushed. Gun shots fired, I fell back into my car. I was lying on my back in the front seat, I carefully moved my hand to open the glove compartment. Inside, I always kept a gun. I pulled it out and checked it for bullets, it was loaded and ready to go. I contemplated my out, or lack thereof.
I heard a car peel out down my street. I waited for a while. It was quiet. I figured they thought when I fell back into the car that I had died. I sat up, put the gun back in the glove box, locked the car, noticed the nick in the paint and went upstairs to my apartment.
Unless I was given other instructions, I met Luis every Friday. His guys had shot at me on Tuesday. I had laid low, hadn’t left my apartment and my surveillance cameras had not proved any traffic on the block for follow up.
It almost seemed like this was my destination in life. My prior life as a successful tattoo artist off the Sunset strip was the dream. Since Carol’s departure, my life was consumed by her debt. I didn’t sell drugs prior to this episode except for a boat load of ecstasy at nightclubs here or there. I didn’t really do drugs in excess until I felt I had to stay up all night to make sure no one was about to bust into my house. I didn’t accrue debt or run with mafia connected drug lords though I’d always had acquaintances of all walks of life.
Before I became a tattoo artist I worked at a gun shop on Washington Blvd. I managed to I collect a fine armory of weapons. Various antiques, illegal but notable guns, bullet proof vests some of which were military issued, and I had taken up shooting. I was a member and third place winner of the International Practical Shooting Confederation. My speed and accuracy was on point. This situation had been cutting into my tattooing hours and I didn’t want to bring my drama into the shop or innocent lives.
Man, after this stint, if I lived, I was going on a vacation back to Japan for a few months. Carol was sitting clueless and careless in a cell scratching off tallies till she could score in the outside world and when she was released her parents would have a new car, apartment, and comfortable life waiting for her again.
Luis did not know that I hadn't died. He didn’t call me nor did I call him. I didn’t want to Welch on my debt so on Friday, as usual, I drove back toward the valley and met him at the warehouse. When I walked in I think I saw him turn pale.
“What are you doing here?” Luis said, the spittle’s were forming at the sides of his mouth. I recognized one of the gunmen in the corner of the office area, eating beef jerky. I smiled at him.
“I came to repay the debt, that’s okay right?” I said acting as though nothing had happened to deter me from being there. “I took the bus all the way to get here, I figured you’d want your cash, you do don’t you?” I asked. Luis was fuming. It seemed comical almost, or like a bad movie, yes, I was still alive.
He took the envelope of $3,000. He told me that he’d call me to let me know when to meet him next.
Carol Calls
That evening, Carol called me collect, as if she hadn’t run up enough debt that she’d never pay.
“Griff, Luis had someone tell me what happened, he’s going to kill you and it’s all my fault.” She sobbed.
“I knew when I got into this that I might not come out of it.” I said. I did. Nothing about Carol was easy. I knew that Luis was known as a drug lord. I knew that I had to right her wrongs, despite the fact that she’d never done anything but keep me company. It was the right thing to do. Doing the right things for wrong people is how I’ve lived my life. I can’t change it.
So, it was true that Luis wanted me dead. She had spoken with him and begged him not to kill me. It was my fault for being white and having an attitude of superiority. I should’ve fought him and ended my life earlier in the game. Now I was indebted to him, a slave to his trade, and gave him all the profit. My existence was just as machine cog for Carol. She’d talked Luis into having someone else meet with me for payments, figuring that if he wasn’t constantly reminded of my existence, maybe, he would not be so frustrated that he could not taunt me into a fight.
That’s when I met Relleno. Relleno was a gang member who sold weaponry to Luis and his runners. He was reliable, quick, efficient and owed Luis a favor.
Relleno and I met on a Friday, at Venice Beach. He was coming closer to my side of town and much more comfortably. Darwin and Sean hung back by the Pavilions, my former school area and we stood by the restroom looking out onto the beach mid afternoon. The air was warm, the light breeze brought the scent of patchouli and suntan oil over me.
“So you escaped an assassination?” Relleno asked me.
“I guess so, they’ve come by twice shooting. There are some gangs on my street, you never know, maybe they’re a bad shot?” I shrugged. Relleno laughed, he was the first one of Luis’ goons who didn’t seem like a goon, someone who had a sense of humor.
We talked a little shop – guns, drugs, tattoos. We didn’t say too much between us, just enough. He said he’d see me in a couple of days and said to be careful, he had a feeling the gangs might be upset around 3:00 AM tonight. I nodded.
After a short while, Relleno would come over to my house, rather than meet on the street once a week to collect the money for Luis. We’d talk, sometimes go out to eat or he’d hang around and play video games before his next errand. I continued to sell what I needed to from Luis to pay off the debt, inviting a strange nocturnal world into my life. It was Relleno who told me the ways of the sleepless. Their need to fix things that had to be taken a part completely first, the strange grifter mentality of always one-upping someone, the thievery and the loss of social consciousness.
Eventually Relleno and I worked out some deals where I sold guns that had been delivered via the government to him along with various military gear once it was too hot to keep around. If anyone thinks that the government doesn’t implant violence on the street they are wrong. They find people like Relleno, violent gang members, to sell arms to. They figure it will only keep the population in check and if confronted, problems seem to vanish. Often, I kept his packages for myself. I think I would’ve been a great militia member, but that requires a person to live in Montana and I felt those freaks in compounds were crazy, I wasn’t going out like that.
“Grifter, you’re almost paid off.” Relleno said to me one night. “Luis wants me to kill you.” He continued to thumb the controller on to the PS2. I was putting together a computer cooled by water, a new hobby, a project one of my nocturnal friends had told me was impossible, so I had to do it.
“When are you going to kill me?” I asked. I searched for my mini screwdriver while he continued to play the video game.
“I am suppose to kill you by Thursday, Compadre.” Relleno was heartless. He didn’t just do drive-by shootings, he’d gotten so out of control with the deals he’d been making that he had a collection of grenades and instead he’d do drive-by grenade throwing. He blew up his competition’s house the week before and it was frightening that the cops had not arrested him, but they either they couldn’t, and more than likely they wouldn’t. He was doing exactly what was wanted of him.
He was concentrating on the game not looking at me and I didn’t look at him while I spread out each component in order that I would need onto the floor in front of me.
“I think it’s time that you do something for yourself Grifter, this man will not be happy until you are dead.” He paused the game, reached around himself blindly for his coca-cola and took a swig and then resumed playing.
I stared at him in wonder, grabbed my cigarettes from the coffee table and lit one.
“So, when do I kill him?” I asked. There was a knock at my door. It was Antonio. Antonio worked with Relleno and came over a lot too. I got up from my work area and walked to the door and answered it. Antonio seemed flustered.
“Relleno, Luis wants you to move up the deadline.” he said. No hello Griff, just directly to Relleno and I never interrupted, I always stayed back and watched things unfold.
“When?” Relleno said. I wanted to joke and tell them to stop talking about me, I was standing right there, but I stayed silent. In my apartment, I have a gun within reach in twelve spots. I was standing at number eleven.
“He wants you to meet him.” Relleno stopped his game and turned everything off.
“I’ll see you later Griff,” he said. I nodded.
My Day
I was sitting in my living room, my back was hurting and I wanted to know when my death sentence was coming. I listened to Portishead while putting my computer together. A few girls had come over and left. They were pretty girls, talking too fast, thinking they were too cool to hang out at the drug dealers house and too eager to give themselves away. I saw girls like this all day long in the tattoo shop. They acted like they were at a nail salon, telling secrets, techniques, cheating cover ups, the things I learned should have turned me against women for life. If that hadn’t, this situation should have.
Antonio and Relleno came back around seven o’clock. They were in strange moods. Normally they were calm and easy going, tonight they were edgy and short.
“Griff, we’re gonna let you have your day.” Relleno told me. I knew what this meant. “Get out three guns that we don’t have to worry about.” He said. I retrieved a couple of choices for us after searching for a few minutes. I was hyped up to get this over with. I didn’t know how they planned to get me in and out of the neighborhood without being noticed, I don’t know how I could get in and out without my car. I’d have to take it. The probability of me surviving this was close to none, but I was going to die anyway, might as well die trying.
The guys wanted to make sure that Luis was going to be alone. The deal was that around ten o’clock Relleno would call Antonio and I and tell us that he was going to meet Luis. Relleno would tell Luis that the job was done and I was no longer an annoyance, which, was all I’d ever truly been. We played poker, smoked cigarettes, and smoked some more.
Carol had heard that I was going to be put down and she called crying hysterically saying goodbye to me. I told her not to worry, I’d signed up for this life. She told me how sorry she was for all the wrong she’d done, the careless behavior, how grateful she was to have had me in her life as a mentor and brother. Hearing these affections from her threw me. She’s never been thankful for grateful for shit. She’d finally come to realize how much I meant to her and now it was too late.
At ten there was no call from Relleno. My mind raced with thoughts of the cops finally getting sick of his antics and grenade bombings, finding a car full of dope and him being arrested somewhere near the valley. We were instructed not to call him, so we waited and around one in the morning, he came in.
“It’s taken care of.” He said. I stood up from my kitchen dining table.
“I thought I was going to do it.” I said. He shook his head.
“No, muchacho, we had to keep you occupied.” He smiled and slapped me on the back. I hadn’t killed a man, but in essence I did.
Luis has a Brother
Luis had three meth labs in the valley that no one wanted to fuck with. Antonio, Relleno and I saw an opportunity and we seized it. For the next six months I knew what it was like to have steady income, no solicitation needed, just drones by the dozen coming in and walking out. I could buy whatever I wanted. I drove my Caddy into The valley and told the cooks to break me off to check the quality. I was higher than life and alive.
It turned out that Luis had a brother who use to run another meth lab once upon a time. Luis wanted to kill his brother to have all the profit, so he had the lab blown up. The kicker was that Luis’ brother Emmanuel, escaped badly burned, but alive. When the word had finally legitimized itself that Luis was dead and had no intention of rising, he came back to the valley and took his spot on the throne and we left the meth cooking business.
Carol Comes Back Around
Carol was released a while later. When she got out we hung out a few times. It was the same as always. I’d go to her house and her mother would love me because I understood Carol and took care of her, despite her clear lack of understanding or care. We caught up on old times and within her first month out again, she was getting high.
At some point, she’d realized I wasn’t broke and that I usually had an abundance of speed and she started to use me. After using me wasn’t efficient enough, she stole from me and had the nerve to come around as if she’d never taken thousands out of my drawers or bags of dope out of the cupboards like a neighbor borrowing sugar thanklessly.
For all she’d said the night I almost died, the drugs had washed her mind clean of remorse or the consequences of her addiction. One evening we started bickering and the friendship had reached its pinnacle.
“Carol, I don’t want to say this, but for my sanity I have to. I risked my life for you, you didn’t care. I paid a debt for you that stole my life. You don’t care, you’re only here for the drugs. Get out, and don’t come back.”
Her sense of Asian pride kicked in and her obvious disdain for courtesy. She told me what to do with myself and stormed out.
Present Day
Six years later, I’m sitting in my living room with Linda. She’s staring at me with wide-eyed wonder while I play video games on my computer. We are talking about the internet and various social services it offers.
“I hate it when people get upset because you move them out of your top eight on Myspace. However, I can’t help but say that when you put me in your top eight; it kind of made my day.” She smiles. She tells me a story about her annoying tweeker neighbor who always throws a fit when she’s not in Linda’s top eight and how it annoys her. I listen, I always listen.
“You think that’s bad,” I tell her. I reach to the drawer by me, get a glass pipe, and back my own stash of speed into it. I take a hit and then proceed with the conversation. “I can’t change my top eight now.”
“Why not?” She asks.
“It’s funny that we’re talking about that tonight. A few months ago, my friend Carol, she’s number four, but I can move her to eight, as long as I keep her in the top eight. Well, we haven’t talked in six years, but a while back when I joined up I got a message to be her friend. I don’t know why I clicked yes, but I did. She’s been in my top eight since then and I’m in her’s but we don’t talk at all. It’s almost like a secret agreement.” I say.
“You haven’t spoken for six years, you’re in each other’s top eight and you don’t communicate.” She repeats outloud to make sure she has it correct. I nodd.
“Explain how that worked.” She says. She’s always so curious.
“It’s a long story.” I tell her. I get the AOL CD case from underneath the coffee table and put in some rocks for her, she likes to snort, thinks that smoking is graduating to a new level, little does she know. I smash the speed until there are nice fine granules, she forgets to do that and I hear her sniffling all night, when I remember to set her up I try to make sure she’s not killing her septum. I hand her the CD case and she opens the box, sets the size line she wants and then lays down on my Persian pillows that occupy the floor.
“Okay, well I have all the time in the world.” She lays back to get the drip. I being to tell her about Carol and the two green churches. She listens, telling me how I should write this memoir down and make a film out of it.
The End.
© 2007 Lola Nation
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