Page 23 of Dom 3
Carmen opened her mouth to say something, but the look I gave her stopped her. “Please,” I said softly this time. “Just do that for me.”
She looked at me and finally agreed. “Alright.”
“We gotta go, now!” O’Shynn hissed. “And Dom you owe me big time! BIG! I count the books NOT bullets big brother!” She said full of sarcasm. I watched Carmen walk Miss Twyla out the back doors, with O’Shynn trailing them, and security surrounding them like shadows.
When the doors closed behind them, I tucked my gun, wiped the blood from my hand with a church napkin, and looked up at the cross over the pulpit. The candles flickered with the waxrunning slow down their sides. El Blanca was gone, but I knew it wasn’t peace that was coming next. It was about to be the silence that always showed up right before the next storm and I’d be ready for that too.
The smell of garlic and onions filled the condo, as I mixed melting butter in the skillet. The windows were open just enough for the sounds of Biscayne traffic to come through, as the city became alive. The longer I stayed, the more I loved it here. I had been on pins and needles ever since my interaction with Dom a few days ago and I hadn’t heard from him since. I never knew much of what was going on because no one kept me in the loop, so my life had become working, and coming home to cook.
Sometimes I went shopping to get a few things, but I always had shadows, especially at the spa now. I felt like I was being watched extra hard, even from my co-workers, which could all just very well be in my head, however, it made me feel paranoid. I wanted to pick up the phone and call Dom numerous times, but that wouldn’t be useful. He gave me a new life, so I had to tread lightly. I didn’t want to risk pushing him away although not a day went by that I didn’t think of him. I saw his shadows more than I saw him. I didn’t think that Dom wanted to kill mebecause if he wanted to, I would’ve been dead already, which made me feel like it was something about my situation that allowed him to have somewhat of a soft spot for me whether he wanted to admit it or not.
I snapped myself out of my thoughts and was barefoot, wearing biker shorts, and one of baby tee that hung off my shoulder. My hair was up high in a ponytail with a few curls surrounding my face as I moved around the kitchen, forcing myself to feel a peace I hadn’t felt in a long time.
I had an old Spanish ballad song from Celia Cruz playing low through the speakers; one that my older cousins used to love. I wasn’t even thinking at this point, I was just moving around swaying my hips. My hips swayed without effort, with the spoon tapping against the pan, as I sang the words while stirring the rice. It felt good to cook because it gave me a sense of normalcy. For the first time in weeks, I didn’t feel like somebody was watching me although I knew otherwise.
The chicken was sizzling, and the homemade sauce was perfect. Before I realized it, I was singing louder when I reached over and grabbed the remote off the counter. I wasn’t really planning to watch anything, but I usually did this just to have some background noise other than the music. I flipped past a few channels until the local news caught my eye.
The headline at the bottom of the screen read:BREAKING NEWS: NOTORIOUS CARTEL KINGPIN FOUND EXECUTED IN MIAMI SHOOTOUT.
The wooden spoon slipped from my hand and fell on the floor. I froze. For a split second, I felt out of breath as the air got caught in my chest. My eyes locked on the screen as the reporter’s voice filled the room. I turned the music down to hear. “Authorities have confirmed that an ongoing cartel war in Miami has left multiple people dead this afternoon, including a man identified as Juan Blanca, known to federal agenciesas El Blanca, an alleged Cuban drug lord with ties to several international operations.”
My knees went weak, and I had to stop myself from falling to the ground. I leaned against the counter to balance myself with my hand gripping the marble until I saw my knuckles turn white. The reporter went on.
“They believe the shootout began outside King Jesus Ministry during a funeral service,” the reporter continued. “Several vehicles were destroyed, and law enforcement sources confirm this appears to be connected to the ongoing power struggle between two major criminal organizations. The suspect in Blanca’s death has not been confirmed, but witnesses report seeing high end vehicles fleeing the scene.”
I blinked hard, but the tears came anyway. They fell without my permission and my whole chest began to hurt. My mind screamednobut my body knew better. My uncle was gone. I covered my mouth with my hand and took a step back, bumping into one of the bar stools. The back of my throat started to burn. The reporter kept talking, in a calm, yet detached voice simply doing his job. I knew he could care less about what happened out there or who died. He was speaking like he wasn’t just announcing the death of the man who raised me. “El Blanca, known to Miami authorities as a former importer turned underworld kingpin, was wanted in connection to several international trafficking investigations…”
“Turn it off,” I whispered to myself. My hand was shaking too much to press the button.
The reporter kept going. They even flashed a photo of him on the screen… the same one from years ago, before he turned into a mad man. His smile looked almost human in his white suit, cigar in his hand, and that charm that fooled people into thinking he was just another successful businessman. I sank down to the floor with my backside pressed against thecabinet. The smell of food still lingered around me, but it didn’t feel so comforting anymore and I didn’t want to eat. The music kept softly playing in the background but how ironic in the background, her voice was singing about love and loss in Spanish while my tears hit the tile.
I hated that part of me still loved him. The part that remembered him calling memi princesa, or teaching me how to shoot, or how to read people, or how to survive. The man who turned monsters into protectors and still tucked me in at night when I was a child. I’d told myself that I didn’t need him anymore, that I didn’t care but the truth was burning in my heart right through me now. Yes, he’d disowned me and used me for a pawn in his game. Yes, he’d sent his men to take me, and I truly believe at some point he would’ve watched me die rather than let me belong to Dom, but he was still my blood.
“Why couldn’t you just stop El Blanca?” I said under my breath. “Why couldn’t you let it go?”
The stove made a sound from the sauce bubbling over which now caused a burning smell. The rice was starting to burn as well, but I didn’t care. My chest was tight, and my breathing was uneven. I tried so hard to get myself together.
Through the sound of my own crying, I could still hear the television in the background. “Authorities believe this killing marks a major turning point in Miami’s underworld, as the Blanca cartel has officially been declared leaderless. Federal agencies are expected to…”
I finally reached up, grabbed the remote, and shut the whole damn thing off, including music. Silence surrounded me now, except for the sound of the skillet popping on the stove and the rain starting to fall against the windows. I dragged myself to my feet, staring out across the bay trying to process the fact that he was really gone. The man who built my nightmares and my armor was erased like a memory. I turned the stove offand leaned against the counter again, slowly breathing through the stabbing in my chest. This was a feeling I hadn’t felt since my father died. I didn’t know how to name this kind of pain anymore.
I grabbed the phone off the counter, the same one nobody back home was supposed to know about. My thumb hovered over the screen for a long time as I thought about if I wanted to make the call or not. I knew what I was about to do was stupid. I knew Dom would lose it if he found out I used this line for something that wasn’t business or safety but unfortunately grief didn’t follow rules.
I opened my contacts and scrolled to the name I’d never deleted, my cousin Marisol. The one who’d been around for as long as I could remember. The one who’d stayed loyal to El Blanca when I chose to leave. For a second, I almost backed out but then I hit call, and it rang three times before she answered.
“¿Aló?” The familiarity of her voice hit me hard. I didn’t speak right away because I almost bitched out.
“Marisol,” I finally said trying to sound normal.
“Victoria?” she asked with shock. “Dios mío… I didn’t think you’d ever call this number again.”
“I shouldn’t be,” I admitted. “But I saw the news.”
It got silent for a few seconds and then I heard her sniff before she spoke again. “Then you know, he’s gone.”
My stomach twisted in knots. “It doesn’t feel real.”
“Nobody believed it at first,” she said, sounding as if her voice was trembling. “They said he went down in Miami, in the middle of the street. They are bringing his body back home. I know he fought until the last breath, mija. He was strong.”
