Fistful of Benjamins (5 page)

“Aghh,” Carlos moaned as he finally found his way inside of my tight anal opening. His dick was so small that it didn't hurt; it was more annoying and humiliating than painful. I gripped two handfuls of his dirty bedsheets and closed my eyes. The shame was trampling over my mood like a herd of wild animals. The tears were falling fast and furious now. They were more tears of pure, white-hot anger than tears of sorrow. Carlos was grunting and wheezing like he would just fall over and croak at any moment. That was exactly what I was praying would happen too.

“Yeah. Your ass feels so good,” he wheezed as he plowed his fat body into me from the back. Feeling his overhang gut touch me made my skin crawl.

“I wonder if your boyfriend knows what a good piece of ass he has,” Carlos said. It was like he had plucked the last string of sanity that I had left.

“Shut the fuck up! Don't talk to me or I'll fucking kill you,” I barked so loud that I even surprised myself. I could tell he was startled. Carlos didn't say another fucking word after that. He did his business and just as fast as it had started, it was over. I climbed off the bed and raced into his bathroom to clean myself up. I swore I felt like I was being attacked by flesh-eating bugs all over my skin. I kept swiping and wiping like there was shit crawling on me. Now I could understand what people meant when they said their skin felt like it was literally crawling. Mine was alive; every pore felt like it was moving. When I got to the sink inside of Carlos's small, cramped, dirty bathroom, I looked at my reflection in the filthy mirror hanging over the sink. More tears dropped from my eyes and I shook my head from left to right, trying to make sense of what I was doing. I clawed at the skin on my own face until I felt welts cropping up on my cheeks. I didn't even recognize myself anymore. I didn't want to be me anymore. I could barely stand to look at myself. That was the moment I decided that I would not endure anymore of this abuse. It was also the moment I would live to regret later, like so many other moments that came after.

“G
abby! Gabby are you here?” Eduardo called out to me. The sound of his voice seemed so loud, like he was standing next to me screaming in my ear. I wanted to disappear. I didn't want to face Eduardo, so I didn't answer him.

“Gabriella?” he called out again. I could tell he was in the bedroom now, but I still kept my eyes shut and my head tucked between my knees. I had been sitting in the dark, on the floor of our bedroom, naked with my knees pulled up to my chest, just rocking back and forth for hours now. I had a bottle of Vicodin and a razor right next to me on the floor. I had contemplated several times just ending my misery. Finally, Eduardo came all the way into our huge master suite and found me sitting on the floor in the corner. He clicked on the bedside lamp and I buried my face deeper to hide from the light. I didn't want him to see my red-rimmed, swollen eyes or the self-inflicted scratches that painted my face now.

“Gabriella? What are you doing sitting in the dark? Naked?” Eduardo asked, bending down in front of me. The smell of his cologne used to comfort me, but at that moment it made me afraid. I couldn't face him; the shame and guilt were too much to handle.

“Gabriella? What's wrong?” He tugged on my arms, trying to get me to look at him. I just started to sob again for the one-hundredth time since I'd been sitting there. I didn't answer him. I think my deep, guttural sobs were enough to tell Eduardo that something was seriously amiss.

“What the fuck is going on, Gabriella?” he asked, grabbing me up from the floor. He carried me over to the bed and put me down. I kept my eyes tightly squeezed. I could hear the concern in his voice. Then he must've noticed the razor and the pills on the floor.

“Talk to me, Gabby. Did you take something? Did you try to hurt yourself?” Eduardo asked frantically. I don't even think he realized how hard he was shaking me, as if he could shake the answers out of my mouth.

“Did something happen to Andrew? Is something wrong with your moms? Something at work?” Eduardo asked. I whimpered like a wounded puppy, but I couldn't speak. The words were on the tip of my tongue, but they just wouldn't come.

“Please, Gabby, talk to me. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong, baby. It's me; I'm here for you, but you've got to tell me, please,” Eduardo pleaded. I could feel my heart melting. I wanted and needed to share my pain with somebody.

“He—he—” I started, but I couldn't bring myself to say it. I was ashamed to say that I had let this happen to me so many times. I also didn't know how Eduardo was going to take it if I told him I had slept with another man behind his back, even though it was to protect him.

“Who? What? He who? Who did something to you?” Eduardo urged, concern lacing his words. I was overcome with more wracking sobs. I pulled my knees up toward my chest and lay there curled like a baby on my side. Eduardo laid next to me and held me.

“Shhh, just tell me, Gabby. I won't be mad. I just want to make it better,” Eduardo said sweetly. He was in my head. He made me feel so safe at that moment.

“He raped me! He fucking raped me! He made me do it over and over again!” I finally blurted out. It felt like I had thrown up the worst dinner I'd ever eaten. My stomach felt lighter. My brain felt relief. My body felt more relaxed than it had in a month. After I got those words to come out, I felt like a thousand-pound weight had been lifted off of me. Eduardo let go of me. He stood up from the bed, but he didn't say anything at first. I opened my eyes to look at him. His face was scowling and his fists were clenched at his sides. I had never seen his face fill up with blood that fast. It looked as if someone had pulled a red veil over his eyes. He was baring his teeth like a vicious dog about to attack.

“Who! Who the fuck touched you?! Tell me right now!” he boomed. I jumped. I was shivering now; a combination of fear and suddenly going cold. He was moving on his legs like he was getting ready to run out of the room at any minute. Eduardo's reaction made me feel even worse about the situation.

“Tell me now! Right now! Who the fuck was it, Gabriella?” Eduardo screamed. I had never seen him like this.

“It—it—wa—was Carlos,” I sobbed, barely able to speak. Eduardo stopped moving as if I had hit an imaginary pause button. His eyebrows dipped low on his face and he cocked his head to the side. His eyes went into little dashes.

“Who? Carlos? You mean the nigga you was telling me about at your job that makes sure you get the packages? The fucking sorter that you've been hitting off with cash?” Eduardo asked for clarification. “The fat nigga?”

“Yes,” I mumbled, feeling so much shame my cheeks flamed over.

“How? How could his fat ass rough you up? At work? He had a gun? Where was everybody else at when this happened? Did you scream?” Eduardo replied, shooting questions at me rapid-fire. All of his questions made me cry even harder. I mean, that was how rape usually happened, right . . . by force?

“No . . . nothing like that. He didn't hold a gun on me and it didn't happen at work,” I cried. Eduardo's face curled into a confused frown. I knew he wouldn't get it.

“Then how the fuck he rape you?”

“He made me come to his house and do things with him. He said he would call the DEA on you and on me if I didn't do it. He said he would make sure CPS took Andrew away and he would tell my mother that I was transporting drugs. He said he had video and he showed me some video of the packages—the heroin inside of the coffee beans,” I explained. “I did it for you, Eddie. I did it for us. But this last time, he—he—hurt me,” I said, almost whispering. The words felt like huge rocks coming out of my mouth. They fell around the room with the same type of
thud
that an actual rock would've made. Eduardo seemingly lost his legs. He slumped down on the end of the bed and put his head in his hands. I could see him squeezing his head like he was trying to get what I had just told him to settle into his brain. He turned toward me, his face showing confusion.

“So you fucked a nasty nigga like that all to protect me? More than once?” Eduardo asked, his voice low and sympathetic.

“I didn't fuck him! He blackmailed me and then raped me! I went along with it to protect you! All for you! From the beginning, everything I've done was just because I wanted to be with you!” I screamed. Eduardo came over and grabbed me into a big bear hug. I choked on my tears as a wave of nausea rippled through my stomach, making me want to hurl.

“Get dressed, Gabriella. I can't let this go,” Eduardo said, stroking my hair. I immediately pushed away from him and broke from his embrace. I looked at him, terrified.

“No! Please, just leave it alone. If he knows that I told you he will go to the feds. He says his brother-in-law works for the DEA. We will all go to jail. Andrew will have to go to foster care. My mother would probably die if she found out what I've been doing. We can't say anything right now,” I cried, shaking my head from left to right. Eduardo grabbed my face and forced me to look him in the eyes.

“There is no fucking way I am letting a nigga get away with what he did to you. I don't give a fuck who he knows or who he threatens to tell! He hurt you and I'm going to see that nigga!” Eduardo gritted.

“Now, get up and get dressed and take me to his house. Now! I'm not asking you, I'm telling you!” Eduardo yelled at me. I knew this wasn't going to end well. It was going to be the first of many things to go wrong with our little business.

 

Eduardo barely waited for me to get out of the car before he was banging on Carlos's door like the police right before a raid. When Carlos pulled back the door he had no time to react before Eduardo bulldozed his way inside. Carlos didn't stand a chance against the force of Eduardo's strong, muscular frame. Carlos's round, wobbly frame was knocked off balance and he fell back flat onto his back. Seeing him lying there like a fat lump of shit gave me a quick fleeting feeling of satisfaction.

“No, please don't hurt me. I have no money here. Please, I can get some money, but I don't have anything of value in the house,” Carlos cried out, begging like the fat-ass punk bitch that he was.

“What nigga—you think I'm here to rob you? You got me fucked up, you sloppy piece of shit. Nah. You should wish I was here to just rob your ass. Fuck that, your fate is going to be much worse, partner,” Eduardo said through clenched teeth. That is when I finally stepped from behind Eduardo and looked Carlos in his evil fucking eyes. When Carlos saw me, his eyes almost popped out of his head. Eduardo was standing over him, so there was no place for Carlos to run or to hide.

“You fucking piece of shit,” I spat, hawking up the biggest wad of spit I could and spewing it down on Carlos.

“What—what's this—this all about Gabriella?” Carlos stuttered, trying to act like he was so innocent. I just stood there looking at him evilly.

“You blackmailed my girl into fucking you? You raped her by threatening to tell the feds on her—on me? Then you threatened her seed too? You ain't no fucking man. We got a term for niggas like you in the hood: bitch-ass nigga. That's what the fuck you are for preying on a woman and her kid,” Eduardo growled. Carlos shot me a look. Terror flashed in his eyes and across his entire face. That was confirmation enough. Eduardo slammed his left fist straight into Carlos's face. I jumped because I had been so busy locking eyes with Carlos I hadn't been paying attention.

“Ahh!” Carlos screamed out in a high-pitched voice like a woman. “Help me! Please, somebody help me!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Eduardo hissed, slamming more fists into Carlos's face. Each time Eduardo let his left or right fist land at will, he would say something else to Carlos about being a bitch-ass nigga. Eduardo was not stopping until he felt satisfied. He was possessed. He slammed another hard blow to Carlos's face and that time a gush of blood spurted from Carlos's nose and lips in a spray. Carlos was crying like a woman and pleading for mercy. He'd even asked me to call Eduardo off. I stood there watching and thinking that he was getting everything he deserved.

Eduardo was saying things, but he was so winded and seemingly possessed as he rained down an onslaught of strikes that I couldn't even understand him. When he was tired of punching, Eduardo lifted his foot and began kicking Carlos all over his body.

“You threaten anybody that works for me and you die, motherfucker. You threaten my business and I fucking kill you,” Eduardo huffed. Those words struck me like an open-handed slap to the face. I wondered right then if the real reason Eduardo was fucking Carlos up was because Carlos had threatened to tell and to shut down the business. As much as I wanted to believe that Eduardo was doing this to get revenge on Carlos for raping me, something in my heart said he was doing it to ultimately protect himself.

Carlos was barely conscious, but Eduardo wouldn't stop hitting and kicking him.

“That's enough,” I said. “He's not even moving anymore.”

“Enough? You think I'm leaving this nigga alive so he can snitch? You think I came here just to beat his ass for recreation? Nah, I wanted him to suffer first, but this nigga gotta go, so go get me a pillow and get a towel,” Eduardo replied, winded and sweating. He was dead serious too. I was frozen in place. Murder wasn't what I had bargained for.

“Go! Do what the fuck I said!” Eduardo barked at me, spurring me into motion. My legs were moving, but they didn't even feel like they belonged to me. I knew my way around Carlos's apartment, but I wished that I didn't. I came back and handed Eduardo the pillow.

“Use the towel to wipe your prints from this fucking place. But not before you take the laptop and any disks you find that might have any videos on it,” he instructed.

“If—if you kill him—who will we have to get the packages done?” I asked softly, too afraid to upset Eduardo any further. It was a valid concern, although I knew it wasn't a big enough concern to save Carlos's life. I wanted him dead too, I just didn't want the police to suspect us.

“That's for you to figure out. This nigga right here ain't no more good to us. He will never stay loyal after this. Plus, if I know Lance, he wouldn't like to know that he threatened our entire operation,” Eduardo said with finality. I scurried away and grabbed up the laptop and whatever else I thought could be holding any incriminating videos. Then I began wiping the hard surfaces clean of my prints.
Pop! Pop!
Two muffled shots rang out. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly and tensed my shoulders in response to the noise. I bent over at the waist and threw up all over the floor.

“Yo! Now you gon' have to use bleach or something to clean that shit up. That shit will have your DNA all over this fucking place,” Eduardo yelled at me. I certainly hadn't thought of that when I was hurling up my guts. That scared me about Eduardo. It was like he was an expert on this type of shit. He had just killed a man and his hands weren't even shaking. His face showed no emotion: not fear, not remorse, nothing. He was simply cold, like nothing had just happened. All of the anger he was previously displaying against Carlos had seemed to subside. It was like the murder had brought him some type of calming relief. Me, I was a fucking wreck. Even after everything Carlos had done to me, I was still not really prepared to see him lying there stiff and dead like that. My hands and legs were shaking. I was crying and shivering. I was scared to imagine how I would be all night. Every time I closed my eyes I was sure I would keep replaying the murder over and over again.

“Let's fucking go, Gabriella. I'm hungry and I have shit to do,” Eduardo demanded. I could do nothing but look at Eduardo like he was crazy. I had just assisted in committing a cold-blooded murder and this nigga was talking about he was hungry. I couldn't imagine eating one bit a food at that moment. There was blood on my hands. We had committed the ultimate sin. I would never be the same after that and I knew it. I had gotten myself caught up in a truly risky business.