11
Xavier
“What fucking smug cunts,”Austin hisses when two guys wave at the camera, cocky that they won’t be identified. “There’s a certain blatant confidence with these particular men as if they believe nothing can touch them, even if caught. Going from experience…” he pauses to think it over before finishing, “that can mean two things. One: they’re rich, like us. Two: they’re part of a dangerous gang that’s infiltrated many organizations and departments, including the police. Bribing police is not uncommon.”
“Speaking from experience,” I chuckle at his remark, but neither of my brothers finds it funny, and I’m just about to discover why.
With crowbars, those three men take delight in smashing the living crap out of Aaron’s SUV. My mouth gapes as one guy reveals a large knife and walks casually to each tire and slashes them, while a second guy equally as casually smashes each window. With the windows smashed, they can unlock the doors, and next thing, they’re slashing the seats and the electronics in the dashboard.
Blood drains from my face as it’s blatantly apparent that they’re targeting this vehicle, neglecting to show an interest in the parked cars nearby.
“Bro, I’m sorry,” my voice catches, and I clear my throat. “That’s fucked up.”
“That’s not the worst of it,” he mumbles in a restrained way like he’s about to explode.
What could be worse than what I’m seeing now? And then a man pulls his pants down and takes a runny shit in the back seat while another man pisses over the tires.
I clap my hands together. “Right, bro,” I say, trying to raise enthusiasm in my brothers. “Let’s find out who this is and sort it.”
Aaron folds his massively thick arms across his chest as his gaze refuses to move from the screen. He’s a volcano ready to blow. Never get between a man and his beloved car.
Austin rises to his feet and steps toward the screen fixated on what he’s looking at. The footage ends, and then we’re shown a different camera angle how the scumbags maneuvered into the garage.
“Wait,” he holds his palm up to Aaron. “Rewind it until I say stop.”
With a deep frown, Aaron rewinds the footage a few seconds until Austin says stop and then lets it run again.
“Stop,” Austin snaps again, and Aaron freezes the footage.
“What are you seeing?” I ask Austin, stepping closer to the screen, but he refuses to divulge what he’s looking at. All I can see are two guys crouched over as they run in behind the oncoming vehicle.
Ignoring me, Austin tells Aaron to play the footage again, then two seconds later, “Stop.” He steps in closer and points to the edge of the screen. While I was focusing on the three men in black ducking into the garage in the vehicle”s blind spot, I missed the man to the side outside overseeing.
“Who’s that?” Aaron asks Austin, amped up like a wolf on a hunt, close to making a kill.
“That guy,” Austin starts, pointing to his cocky face wearing shades, “the gum chewer who paid me a visit at work.”
“Those fucking heavies that were trying to warn you of shit with the Applegates?” Aaron needs clarification.
“Positive,” Austin states confidently. “I’d recognize that face anywhere. The problem is that if they’re a fucking organized crime syndicate, then they’ll have plenty of money, plenty of hardware, and plenty of men to do the dirty work, as we’re seeing here.”
“Fuck,” I cuss under my breath. We were warned, and now they’re pissed.
“This has fuck all to do with us,” Aaron argues again. This is always his bitch. Whenever shit goes down, he’ll announce that it’s got nothing to do with him and wipes his hands clean from the situation. And he’s right.
“I agree, bro,” I pat him on the thick, rounded shoulder. “This had nothing to do with us until we started noticing weird shit going down at Emaline’s. To be accurate, it was you who pursued the crack addict and then tried to stop that other vehicle from chasing her. So…we’re knee-deep in it now.”
Aaron grunts, nodding his head.
“We need more information from Brielle,” Austin sighs. And if they know that we live here, then maybe we should move to one of the other apartments.”
“Nah,” the oldest brother says, shaking his head. “Let them come to us, and we’ll be ready for them.”
“To do what?” I ask.
“You reckon we should get some hardware and wait for them to pay us a visit?” Austin asks, getting pumped like his brother. Now that I know we’re dealing with a possible crime family, my enthusiasm has dropped slightly. I don’t mind a brawl, but a full-out war with weapons, yeah, I’m not so sure.
“Xave,” Aaron turns to me, “find out as much as you can from the Applegates about who these guys are.”
“Will do,” I answer, forcing excitement into my voice to show that I’m with them 100%, even though I doubt how we will pull this off. Sometimes, I wonder how I’m related to these two. But it’s got me uptight now because I’ll expect one of those heavies to follow everywhere I go.
My brothers plot and scheme where they will buy hardware from or whether or not to borrow our father’s guns, which they quickly decided was a bad idea. Yep, involving our parents is a bad idea for so many reasons. This whole fucking thing is a bad idea. I make myself a sandwich and grab the last bottle of orange juice from the fridge as they bounce ideas off each other.
“Maybe we could pay them off to leave us alone,” I offer an idea into the fire, and they fall quiet. They turn to look at me, probably to see if I’m joking, which I’m not, and then they continue plotting and scheming.
The sandwich is tasteless, even though I plastered thick layers of peanut butter and mayo, a combination that my brothers cringe at. In between bites, I scroll mindlessly on my phone, eager to escape this madness, until a random thought drifts into my mind.
“Hey, you don’t reckon…” I gaze suspiciously about the living room. “That they’ve been in here and bugged the place.” My tone is slightly louder than in a whisper.
The color drains from Aaron’s face as Austin’s mouth drops open.
“How?” Austin asks, stepping to the door to check if it’s been tampered with. He opens the door and runs his fingers along the wood and lock. “Looks like it hasn’t been messed with.”
“We’ve got to start being vigilant,” Aaron states in his mature, serious tone, getting down to business. “Note down the registration number of every suspicious following vehicle, and make sure…” wagging his finger at us, reminding me of our father when he’s warning us to stay out of trouble. That was when our father noticed he had kids, but now he barely contacts or asks after us. Not that it matters as much as we’ve created our own family out of our brotherhood, and maybe we’ve got space for a spectacle-faced girl. “…you lock the fucking door and put the alarm on before you leave.”
“We do anyway,” I argue, and he shoots me a dark scowl. The guy is hurting, and this is how he deals with it.
“Text me the registration of any shifty vehicles, and I’ll send it to my contact at the Addington PD so they can search the database. Alright?”
I scoff my sandwich down, guzzle my bottle of orange juice, burp, wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, and toss it into the bin. “Fine,” I assure him, grabbing my cat key, relieved my car wasn’t jumped. Maybe it will be next. “I’m heading to the hospital to catch up with Em.”
“Try and get some info out of her,” Aaron orders in that tone.
I salute him in jest, and he shoots me the middle finger. “I’ll do my best.”
As soon as I leave the apartment, a chill snakes down my spine, having to go down into the garage where Aaron’s car was destroyed only an hour ago. I’m relieved to find Paul in the security room and give him a wave as I walk to the calamity that is Aaron’s SUV. Jeez, it looks bad in person and stinks even worse. Someone has to clean this shit up, and it won’t be me.
I examine Aaron’s SUV from a safe distance as I don’t want to get too close to that rank smell, searching for a signature or message from the cunts that ruined the beast. Maybe the signature is their shit in the back seat. I can’t stand around for long around that stink, so head to my car, two rows down, and inspect the exterior for any damage. The taillights, bumper, and back window are untouched, so I use my electronic key to unlock the door, and a scene of a car exploding in my mind from a movie I saw recently forces me to stop. The explosions in movies seem to happen when the unsuspecting character starts the engine.
My heart pounds in my chest as nerves claim the pit of my stomach. I turn back to Paul in the security room, and when he sees me through the viewing window, he steps out to meet me.
“Those men who wrecked my brother’s SUV…” I sound paranoid, although most people would be, especially if they watch fast-paced action movies. “In the footage. Did you see them touch my car?”
He shakes his head. “I sent the footage to your brother so you can see for yourself, but they focused on your brother’s car, Mr. Leroux.”
“Yeah, I saw the footage. I’m just double-checking in case I missed something.” I sound paranoid, and from what I saw, they didn’t move away from Aaron’s car, but I still can’t help being on edge. “You can’t be too sure these days.”
“No. I guess you can’t,” he says carefully, reading my nervousness. “Do you want me to check your vehicle, sir?”
“No, I’m good,” I answer swiftly, returning to the car. “I’m being an idiot.”
I jump inside my unlocked car and breathe a sigh of relief when I don’t notice anything different. There’s no feces stench, slashed seats, or any sense of sabotage until I notice a folded leaf of paper tucked into my windscreen wipers.
I reach my arm out, grab the note, and open it.
YOUR NEXT!!
“Your? YOUR? You spelled it wrong, you dumbfucks. It’s you’re as in you are. Jeez, Fuck.” The misspelling takes the heat away from the message, making it laughable.
I take a pic of the note and text it to my brothers with the added message: Crime lords can’t fucking spell!
I hesitate before starting the engine, waiting for an explosion and for my life to be over. Nothing happens. I exhale just as my phone beeps.
Aaron: Pity we can’t kill them via a spelling B. R u ok?
Me: Fine.
Aaron: U be careful, bro. Call me if u have a problem.
Me: Thanks, bro.
Aaron: Say hi to Velma for me.
Me: Do it yourself. Send her a message.
Aaron: Still haven’t found who hid Brielle’s phone in my bag.
Me: Another mystery to solve.