almost okay

SEVERAL DEATHS IN
THE FAMILY
Chapter Sixteen: One Little Kiss & Felina, Goodbye

“Just let me drive,” said Felina. “I've backed out of here dozens of times. I know how to do it.” My first two attempts at backing down Amelie's narrow, crooked driveway had resulted in a foot-long scrape on the driver's side of the rental car and a cracked tail light lens on the other.

“Okay,” I said. “I don't really feel like driving anyway.” I got out and walked around to her side as she slid over the console and into the driver's seat.

“Well, I do feel like it,” Felina went on, “and I know San Antonio like the back of my hand. I have cousins there. So just sit back, relax and enjoy the ride.”

True to her word, Felina snaked the car backwards, missing by mere inches the half-open swing gate that had claimed the tail light on my second attempt, and rocked us into the street before squashing the gas pedal and gunning us up the block. “Hey, slow down, Mario,” I protested. “I want to get there in one piece.”

Felina looked over at me and smiled, showed her beautiful teeth, and even with the still-split lip and her bruises, I wanted her instantly. When we got to the intersection, I leaned over and offered my lips. “Kiss me, you fool,” I said. She gave me a quick peck, but I slid my hand into her hair and held her there longer, kissed her full on the mouth, tasted her.

“Easy, Casanova,” she said. “We'll have plenty of time for that when we get to the hotel.” I'd booked us a nice suite at the Hotel Valencia on the Riverwalk. That roll I'd found on Hector had instantly made us five grand richer, so I figured I'd splurge a bit, do something nice for Felina after being holed up here for a week. Another dingy room at the Motel 6 just wasn't going to cut it.

Felina turned back to face the intersection, waiting for the light to change. Suddenly a black Escalade with gold trim sped up to her side of the car and I saw the flash of a gun barrel in the morning light, heard the staccato pop! pop! pop! as the guy on the passenger side unloaded. By the time I was able to scream her name, Felina slumped sideways with a sad look of surprise on her face and we started to roll forward, her foot no longer pressing on the brake. I ducked and pulled the steering wheel towards me. “Hang on, baby!” I said to her. The guy pulled the trigger a couple more times and the glass in the door behind me exploded, covering me in a blanket of aqua-tinged plate-glass chips.

The rental came to rest at the curb and I jammed the trans into park. Then I heard the Escalade burn rubber, saw the top of it lurch out of sight and towards the intersection. My bag was behind my seat, the butt of the sawed-off still sticking out. I reached around and felt the butt in my hand, looked at Felina. She wasn't breathing. With the other hand I turned her face towards me and saw that she'd taken a direct hit on the left side of her head just behind the temple. There was nothing I could do to save her.

Choking back the tears, I pulled the shotgun free of the bag and sat up just in time to see the Escalade get clipped by a passing delivery truck as it ran through the intersection on the red light. The impact spun it around until it was almost facing me.

I jumped out of the car and started walking towards the SUV holding the sawed-off waist high. The driver hit the gas and drove straight at me, obviously surprised to see that I was still alive. I sent the first round into the windshield right where his face was and the Escalade veered suddenly to my right as the glass flew. The trigger man was trying to aim at me by then, and I could see the driver holding his face on the other side of him as they screeched to a halt about fifteen feet in front of me. By the time he was steady enough to fire another shot, I had put round number two into the trigger man's door. He managed to squeeze off a stray shot or two as he fell backwards, one of them pinging into the hood of my HHR.

I kept walking towards the Escalade until I could see into the front seat. The driver was holding his throat and his face was covered in blood. He seemed to be choking. I couldn't see the trigger man. I walked around towards the back, approached the passenger side door with caution, pumped my final round into the chamber, then opened the door. The trigger man fell to the pavement. He was still alive and struggled weakly to lift his arm towards me, his hand still holding the 9mm that he'd used to kill Felina. His chest was covered in blood. I stepped on his wrist and his fingers opened on the gun butt.

“Your amigo there looks like he's in a bad way,” I said. “But I think he's gonna make it. You, on the other hand, won't be so lucky.” I could hear sirens in the distance. “One of those emergency vehicles is bound to be an ambulance. I think they'll be able to patch him up, but I'm afraid they're gonna have a hard time putting your head back on.” I looked into the front seat and the driver was still alive, rasping, bleeding and holding his throat. “Hear that, amigo?” I said to him. “I'm gonna let you live. And I want you to tell all your folks in San Antonio that I'm on my way to see them, and that when I get there, I'm gonna slaughter every last goddamn one of the bastards.”

I put the barrel of the shotgun against the trigger man's throat and let the last round go. The sawed-off roared and his blood danced up my pant legs.