Cameron and Marcus and Dave walk to the Mustang, and I follow.
Dave pulls into the gas station and looks back at Marcus and me. Neither of us says a word; we just get out and grab the cans. Marcus takes the nozzle. “Hold them so they don't tip.” His voice is calm, but his hands are shaking.
We fill the first two and then move onto the third when Marcus coughs. “This is fucked up. What the fuck do
I
have to prove?” He looks at me like I have an answer. “I'm just a big-ass nigga to them. The fuck am I gonna gain from this?”
I wish I knew. Fuck, I don't know what this is supposed to do for me, either. Not like it's some mentor program where I get to learn how to be a wanted criminal. Not like what Rob's got. That is if they don't fuck up his world.
Marcus moves to the last can. “I don't know if I can do this, yo. I never killed nobody. Put bruthas in the hospital, sure. But . . .”
I cut him off. “You don't have a choice.” Even as I speak, I know the words are for me, too.
Marcus scowls. “Yeah I do. Rob did.”
He sounds like a child, and I spit on the ground, more angry with myself than anything. “You think that shit's over? You think there isn't a next step after this?”
Marcus racks the nozzle. “That's my fucking point. There's always somethin' else, and it's always more fucked up each time.”
Dave's window drops. “You two bitches done, cuz I wanna get this the fuck over with.” He holds a fifty out the window and I look over at Marcus, but he's already screwing on the caps. I snag the money. “Get a lighter, too.”
I return with the lighter and hop in the car. It's quiet, but full of pressure, as if someone just quit screaming. I look at Marcus and he's staring down at his hands. Cam's looking out the window, jaw set hard, and Dave starts the car, but shakes his head.
“Something up?” My words spill out.
Dave edges the car out of the lot, and Cam turns around in his seat. “You thinking 'bout being a little bitch?”
“The fuck you mean?”
Cameron juts his chin at Marcus. “Fucker says he ain't down with this. Don't want to kill anybody. 'Bout you? Too much of a pussy?”
The fucking ways I could answer pack my head, but I just shift in my seat. “Marcus will be fine. Just nerves. I trust him.”
Marcus shoots me a look and Cam grunts. “Better be that way.”
He turns back and Dave picks up speed. A moment later Marcus nudges me with his shoulder. Then he reaches out and we pound fists. Reminds me of Phil and Amir and my insides run.
Dave pulls off to the shoulder of the side road and kills the engine, but leaves the keys in the ignition. We all step out and to the trunk.
“You heard the plan, we slip in, spill the cans, and I'll caulk. Light and run. Simple as fuck.” Cam grabs a can and the caulk gun. “You think you can handle that?” He's asking all of us, but looks at Marcus real hard. Marcus grabs a can and I do the same. Dave grabs the last and closes the trunk.
“All right, Dave, Tone, start at the back wall and wrap around to the middle of each side. Marcus and me'll pick up where you leave off and wrap around the front.” He stares at Marcus again. “I got my eye on you.” Marcus turns away and Cam mutters “nigger” under his breath. Marcus tenses but does nothing.
“Don't leave your fucking cans. No evidence.” Cam looks over at the warehouse and I do the same. It's a big goddamn building. This is gonna take a while. “Let's go.”
We follow Cam, who stays along the edge of the parking lot, tucked beneath the shadows of the pine trees. All the cars are still here, and as we pass to the far corner, loud
voices are clear from inside. Cameron stops abruptly, turns and points at Dave and me. He gestures us to the back and we take off.
It's slow going because the side is littered with tree roots and dead limbs. Dave steps on one, and it sounds like lightning cracking. I press against the building and feel my heart pound off the wall. No shouts come from inside, though, so we keep moving and watch our fucking feet.
We reach the back, and it's a clear field, the wall is free of obstacles. Dave and I move to the center and set down the cans.
“What a pain in the balls.”
Dave keeps his voice low and I nod, but don't speak. My head's running three steps ahead of me, and I know what we have to do and am trying to believe that the result will not be my fault.
“Ready?”
His voice is a whisper, and I pretend not to hear him. He punches me in the kidney.
“You fucking ready?”
I unscrew the cap. The fumes waft out and my head spins, but Dave joins me, hefts his up, and starts pouring. He heads the way we just came. I go off to the other side, and whatever the hell is over there. Dave's crouched low and moving quickly, the gas lapping at the edge of the building. If I don't keep pace, Cameron will come looking. I pick up my can, angling it like Dave's and start pouring.
I move along the back wall with ease and when I turn the corner, half the can is empty. The far side is the same as the other, a goddamn tinder box of dead limbs and trees. Chaz must have had this planned for a while, because it's perfect. This place will go up like a torch. My head goes light at the
idea, and I pause against the wall for a moment before moving on. I watch my step but notice that the can's running low. I smack into something dense. It moves and I almost scream.
“Hey, Tone.”
Marcus's voice scares me so bad I close my eyes, prepared to be hit, and swallow my scream.
“We could still run. The keys are in the car. You and me. We could make it.”
His voice is so genuine, it reminds me of Rob's. It takes a moment for his words to sink in and as they do I am speechless. I picture what he means, see us running. It's nice that he's willing to include me, that he's got my back, since no one seems to have his. But in the end, there's nowhere to run. At least not for me.
“Go for it. I won't say shit, promise.”
“You ain't coming?”
As much as I want to say I will, I can't, and that hurts worse than any punch I've taken. “Wish I could, but I'm stuck. You know that.”
Marcus looks toward the car, and I wait for him to bolt, but he just stoops down and picks up where I left off. I follow, keeping ears and eyes out, just in case.
We snake along the wall and around the front corner and there's Cam and Dave, like we fucking rehearsed this shit. Cam looks up, but quickly returns to the job, while Marcus barrels along and we all meet at the front door.
The voices inside are louder and slurred and seem angry, even though I don't know what the fuck they're saying. If they come out now, we're dead on the spot. This is it, now or never.
Cam sets down his can and reaches for the caulk gun tucked into his jeans. “Pour the rest on the door.” He cuts the tip off the caulk with a knife he's pulled from his pocket.
Fucker must carry a weapon in everything he owns.
Dave, Marcus, and I look at each other, but then lift our cans and pour the remnants along the door. Cam finishes the job and puts out his hand. “The lighter!”
I dip into my pocket and start to hand it over.
He looks up at me, narrows his eyes, and then stands. “No,
you
do it!”
My insides feel as if they've fallen through my ass. I look to Dave and Marcus and they back away. Cameron joins them.
“We'll be at the car. Don't come unless this fucker's burning.” He turns and they follow, and I'm left holding a can and the lighter. The noise of the drunken Hungarians and the stench of gasoline wafts around me.
I can't do this. I can't murder anyone. But if I don't do it, I might as well just walk inside and let them shoot me. I could still run, though. I'm fast and Marcus might stall them and I could get to the cops. But I reek of gas, and what if they don't buy the story? Or worse, what if one of them is working for the Agnostics?
I could run, but I'm too afraid of what would happen, because all I've ever seen is shit get worse. Fuck, it doesn't get much worse than this.
I click the lighter, and the yellow flame emerges. I watch it for a moment and then close my eyes. I see my past: all those men and my mom, and my father. I see my present: me failing, going nowhere, ending up here. I see my future: it doesn't exist. I open my eyes and touch the flame to the wet line.
A “poof” rises up, and I stand back. The fire is already climbing the walls, touching off the trees. The door is engulfed in flames, and the heat warms my face. Shouts peal from inside, and smoke billows through the broken ceiling.
I turn away but do not run. I hope someone breaks free
and sees me and knows what I've done and shoots me dead. It'd be easier than whatever I'm going have to do next: let go of my life. But that won't happen. Charity's dad's done this shit before, has planned this one to a T. There's no way out.
I reach the car and the three of them are standing on one side watching the blaze. I hand Cameron the lighter. “Careful with this.” I laugh. The bubble just bursts from within and they all look at me, eyes wild. I laugh again and stare back. “What?” They don't answer and I keep laughing. Dave crosses to the trunk, and I throw my empty can at him. He takes care of it and then slides behind the wheel.
Dave starts the Mustang and Cam rolls down the window, the car already filling with our fumes. Marcus looks at the warehouse and then back at me while I try to wipe away a smile, but can't.
24
W
e pull into the park and the guys are outside, gathered around a metal drum, toasting marshmallows and drinking whiskey. They cheer when we stop and gather around the car like we're celebrities. Chaz breaks from the group. “Just heard the fire trucks wailing. Well done.” He clasps each of us and I laugh along, no longer concerned if I do seem like a fucking lunatic. Maybe I am. Maybe something broke in my head, like it broke in my heart back at the trailer with Mom. Chaz joins me.
“Nice work, Vo-Tec. We got some shit to talk 'bout, all of us, but you done good.”
“Thanks.” I smile and mean it and feel the warmth of getting something right. It spreads through me and I feel like I belong. I was beginning to feel this way at the gym, but maybe this is where I was supposed to be. Maybe I've just always been fighting the inevitable.
Someone hands me a bottle. I take a long pull and warm myself by the fire. It doesn't compare to the one I set, but it feels good.
“Boys, inside. The fire was fun, but it's gotta go. Don't need the pigs driving by and seeing this. Might get wise and put two and two together.”
The gang turns away from the can at Chaz's orders and one kicks it over. Another two smother the fire. We march inside, and I crash onto a couch. The men sit in every available spot, even on the floor. They pass bottles, and across from me Cameron tips one back and takes an enormous swig. My cheeks are throbbing now that I'm warmed up and part of me wants to smash the bottle over his head, and part of me thinks the guys would be fine with it, because I lit the inferno. Because it was me. I killed them. Me.
Fuck. I killed people. Thugs, yeah. But still, isn't that the way I'm headed? Would them killing me be all right?
“Boys, we got fucked but proved a point. I ain't happy'bout it, but that's the way it goes.” The men grumble and nod. “Cam, Dave, Vo-Tec, and Marcus deserve credit for what they've done.” The room claps and it feels so much like being at the gym.
But this isn't Coach Dan's, and these men aren't my crew.
“Even though we taught them a lesson, it doesn't mean we can be smug. That fire will eventually get put out, and then the pigs will want answers.” Chaz looks around the room and all eyes are on him. “We can't wait around for that, and we can't just take a hit on our profit.”
They will come. And these bastards will throw me under the bus.
“So I've got a back-up plan. We're heading to Florida in a week anyway, so why not go now?” Chaz looks around the room, and the men look to one another. “I've got a connection in Miami willing to make the deal the Hungarians didn't. So, let's get the fuck out of Dodge.”
Yeah, let
them
go, but not me. Not ever.
There's more muttering and then someone asks, “When?”
Chaz clears his throat. “Tonight. We need to move and
the holidays are in our favor. Everyone's looking to the sky for problems, not the ground. You hear me?”
The men nod and some take stiff pulls, but I relax. Shit, I couldn't have asked for more. If they go now, I'm fine, so long as the cops don't get me. And Rob's fine, and all I have to worry about is Cam. Shit, after what I just did, I think I can handle that.
Chaz sits up. “So that means Dave, you're coming. You've earned it and we need your car. Marcus, Cam, Vo-Tec, welcome aboard.”
The weight of his words paralyzes me, but Dave's eyes bug and Marcus shakes his head. Cameron clenches his jaw.
Chaz looks at us and his face hardens. “I'm not asking. I trust you to make the right decision.”
The tension is thick and no one speaks for a moment. My head races with excuses for me to stay, but nothing sticks, not my mother, not school, not anything about my future. Fuck, this may be my only option.
Chaz stands. “You have an hour. We roll then.”
The guys stand and talk to one another and then car lights fill the room. They blink off the wall and everyone stops moving. Outside, doors click shut. And then voices call.
“Tony?”
“Hey, Tony?”
“Yo, Antioch, where you at?”