Lingering Echoes (23 page)

I looked Tommy up and down, eyeing his striped polo shirt
that hung around his thin frame, tucked into his white slacks. I whispered to Afona, “Where did you find this kid? And why?”

“
Yo, Iona. Bump the music!” Afona lowered his voice as the music boomed. “He was hanging around outside a party we crashed up by your neighborhood. Seemed like he was working up the nerve to go in. He paid us some straight-up cash to walk in with him and act like his friend. Trying to boost his social life or somethin’, I don’t know. But hey—he got money and doesn’t mind spending it. So we’re keeping him around.”

Something about his statement started to click in my head.

“Yo, Damien. Your dad is whacked, man,” Iona said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, that guy’s got some problems. What’s wrong with
us
? Nothin’,” Afona said. “You gotta get yourself out of there, bro.”

“I’m working on it,” I muttered, still looking out the window.
As we headed into the city, I was grateful to get away from my father for the night, but looking around at my Samoan buddies, I was becoming wary. Something seemed increasingly not right with them.

T
hey kept talking about Tau—someone I knew they both feared and respected at the same time. I was with them when their cells rang and they had “assignments” to complete. They either ditched out early or made me stay in the car until they were finished. They never explained what was going on. And they didn’t always tell me where all my money went.

“No
worries, bro,” they would always say. “No worries.” So I didn’t push the issue by asking too many questions, but I felt there was something much bigger going on with these guys than I realized, or dared to figure out.

While we were in the car,
Fanua pulled into the empty parking lot of a convenience store.

“What are we doing here?” Tommy asked.

“Just making a routine stop, my friend,” Fanua said. “You got it, Iona?”

“
Fanua,” Afona interrupted. “Right now? You sure about this, man?”

“Yeah, sure,”
Fanua said. “Just grabbing a snack.”

Iona
and Fanua both were getting out of the car. Iona had a bag slung over his shoulder. “Yeah. Be right back.”

They both stepped into the store. Through the windows we could see th
em browsing along the left side, looking at the wall of sodas. Grabbing an item or two, they headed over to the cashier.

Tommy opened his door and stepped out. “I need to grab some food
, too,” he said.

“Hey, kid. Wait!”
Afona said, but Tommy hustled into the store. Afona maneuvered out of the car to follow him.

The moment
Tommy stepped through the doors, he looked to his right and stopped. His jaw fell open. Afona threw open the store door, and I heard Tommy cry out, “What are you doing?”

A
gunshot sounded through the air, followed by a second. Iona and Fanua, both wearing black masks, ran into view. They grabbed Tommy as they dashed through the door. Afona followed behind.

“Let’s go, let’s go!” he shouted. They all jumped into the
car, shoving Tommy on top of me. Afona was in the driver’s seat now. He threw the car into gear and took off, peeling out as he tore across the parking lot.

Iona
tossed the bag at his feet and removed his mask, as did Fanua, who was sitting beside me. They looked behind them with frantic eyes, scanning the streets. Already police sirens were sounding through the air.

“What just happened back there?” I a
sked, looking from face to face, afraid to believe what logic explained. My eyes rested on Tommy’s, the full whites of his eyes exposed. He trembled beside me, staring with disbelief at all the Samoans.

“Someone tell me what just happened.
Now!” I demanded.

“I told you to wait,”
Afona said to Tommy, his deep voice breaking the stunned silence. The car continued to race down the street, running a couple red lights.

“Slow down,
Afona,” Iona hissed. “You want the cops to pull us over like this?”

“They’re already going to be on us with the sloppy job you just pulled.”

“It was the kid,” Fanua inserted. “He distracted us. The clerk hit the alarm and pulled out a shotgun when we turned our heads. We had to fire first or we’d be the ones lying dead on the floor.”

“I heard two shots,” I said.

“Yeah, well, he’s dead for sure.” Iona sighed, tapping the dashboard. “Tau ain’t gonna like this. Bag’s only half-full. And this is gonna draw some attention.”

“
You think? Of course it will! You shouldn’t have pulled the job with these two in the back.” Afona slammed his hands against the steering wheel. “Tau told you we can’t trust anyone who’s not a part of the brotherhood.”

Fanua
turned to Tommy and me. He shoved a hand against my shoulder, pinning it against my seat. “Now, you listen here,” he said through his teeth. His brows doubled over as he studied us. “You two better shut your mouths if you don’t want a hole through your head.”

“Nu-no problem,” Tommy stammered. “I won’t say a word, I swear.” He fiddled with the edge of his
shirt, which was no longer tucked inside his pants.

“What about you?’
Fanua asked. I stared back at him, unwilling to fall prey to his intimidation. I didn’t know yet what I was going to do, but I knew what he wanted to hear.

I pulled up my left sleeve, exposing my tattoo.
USO. “You said this means brother. You know you can trust me.”

Iona
laughed, looking back at me. “That doesn’t mean nothin’, man. That’s just wasted ink. It takes more than that to be one of us. You can’t be a brotha! You ain’t got what it takes, and I’m not just talkin’ about color. You’re just a spoiled rich kid who’s good at sharing his money.”

My lips hardened into a thin line. My jaw clenched together. “Well, I guess that’s it then. We’ll go our separate ways from here. Stop the car.”

Afona pulled over, chuckling with the rest of his gang. “Fine. Have it your way.”

“Get out,”
I ordered Tommy, following after him. Fanua stuck his head out the window.

“Just remember what I said,” he warned, staring hard at Tommy. Tommy swallowed beside me and nodded his head.

“Say a word and you’ll regret it, for the rest of your short life.” The car pulled away and sped down the street.

Tommy looked over at me. “What are we doing to do?” he asked. “Should we tell the cops?”

I started walking down the street. Tommy followed after me, catching up with my strides.

“
I don’t know,” I mumbled, looking for a cab.

“They killed him,” Tommy continued. “A man is dead because of them.
I walked into the store, and they had masks over their faces, pointing guns at the clerk. The man looked so scared and was throwing cash into the bag.” He paused. “Is...is it my fault? Would they not have killed him if I hadn’t distracted them, like they said? Because then maybe he wouldn’t have pulled out his shotgun in the first place.”

I stopped in my tracks. “Ok, listen here, Miller. This is not your fault. We both were just in the
wrong place at the wrong time.”

A wave of anxiety rushed through me.

“We got to get back home. I think we better just lay low for a while. We both know they’re serious about what they will do if we say anything. Maybe...maybe we should just wait a while and see if the cops can figure it out on their own. Then we’ll still be safe.”

Tommy looked skeptical. “But isn’t it our duty to tell?”

I let out a frustrated breath. “Man, I don’t know! I mean, probably. But I don’t want to end up splattered on the sidewalk like that clerk, do you? Taxi!”

We both hopped into the same cab
. Same dilemma, same ritzy neighborhood.

“Oakland Hills,” I informed the driver. Too absorbed with our own thoughts, Tommy and I both sat in s
ilence, staring out the window the entire ride home.

***

I awoke the next morning with grogginess, all alone in my empty house. My family would still be up in the cabin for another week. I needed to find a way up there.

Kicking
off the thick layer of blankets and sheets, I sat up with a shake of my head. The events of last night had played over and over in my mind until I fell asleep into a hazy swirl of dark, confusing dreams. Tommy Miller’s face came to mind, his wide, scared eyes, no longer innocent and pure. I sensed he still wanted to talk to the police, but I also feared the reality of what would happen if he did. Or if I did.

A twinge of guilt pried at my heart as I thought about the man
at the store, and the family he left behind. Whether he had a wife and children or not, he was still someone’s son, brother, or uncle. People out there were grieving and deserved to know the truth behind his murder.

But a feeling stronger tha
n guilt overcame me, one I was ashamed to recognize.

Fear.

I looked at the tattoo on my arm, which seemed to be burning alive on my skin.

Brotherhood.
Loyalty.

They had no stronger devotion than in protecting their gang, their family.
If I said one word, I would be a targeted dead man for the rest of my life. They would hunt me down until they found me. They might even hurt Jenna.

No. I would follow my initial plan and just lay low. Give the police time to figure it out on their own. Then I would reconsider my plan.

Stepping off the bus, I pulled my phone out of my jacket and flipped it open. I dialed the cabin’s landline, dreading the voice that answered.

“What is it
?” my father’s voice asked, gruff and serious as usual. But it was particularly gruff today.

“
I’m in Twain Harte. Can you pick me up?”

Silence.

“Or...I can find my own way up there. It’s not a big deal. I guess I’ll—”

Dad
interrupted. “Just what makes you think we want you back up here after that disrespectful stunt you pulled last night?”

The stubbornness inside of me wanted to retal
iate and tell him I didn’t need any of his help, anyway, but I refrained.

“Look, about that. I’m sorry I took off like that. I’ve, uh, been doing some thinking. You won’t be seeing those guys around anymore. And neither will
I, for that matter. I swear.”             

I could hear
my father murmuring on the other line. I waited until he spoke.

“Fine.
I’ll pick you up by the post office in twenty-five minutes.” He hung up the phone before I could respond.

Wit
h Christmas approaching, my mother insisted we all go into town and do some shopping as a family. Jenna and I were both handed a generous wad of cash and set loose.

I followed two steps behind Jenna, barely acknowledging her stories and comments. After half an hour, she stopped asking my opinion on shirt options for Dad or perfume scents for mom. She even stopped making jokes about what I could get her for Christmas.

Her steps came to a sudden halt and she turned around, putting her hands on her narrow hips. I almost bumped right into her.

“Hey,
what’s going on with you?” she asked, frowning at me. She tapped her foot, waiting for my response.

“
Nothin’, Jen. Just not much in the Christmas shopping mood.”

“You’re not being yourself,” she said, glaring at me. “Well, you haven’t been yourself for months
. But now you just seem nervous and weird. What happened yesterday?”

I started walking and grabbed her arm, guiding her into the store.

“You want to shop. Let’s shop.” I held a couple ties in her face. “Here. Which one do you think Dad would like? Red or blue?”

Jenna scowled at me, folding her arms across her chest.

“Not into the ties, huh?” I turned my back and snatched a silver frame from off a shelf. “Beautiful, isn’t it? Toss a picture of you and me in there and we’re all set for Mom. What do you say?”

It wasn’t possible for her to g
lare any harder at me. Her honey-hued eyes filled with tears.

“Stop treating me like I don’t know what’s going on. I’m not a baby!” She slid the back of her hand across he
r eyes, destroying the glistening evidence.

I returned
the frame to its dusty shelf. Turning around, I kneeled down to Jenna’s level and hugged her. She wrapped her arms around me, squeezing my neck in a vise. “You’re not the same,” she choked out. “I miss you, Damien.”

My wall crumbled for the time being. I
held Jenna at arm’s length, looking into her innocence. “I’m sorry I haven’t been nice to you. Something did happen yesterday.”

“With your bad friends?” she sniffled.

I nodded. “Yes, with my bad friends. They’re not my friends anymore.”