Closer to the Edge
Santiago would relive the moment over and over and over . . .
The moment Alex opened the door.
That night hard rains pelted the pavement, further clouding Santiago’s vision. The Henny in his system took care of the rest. He had drunk half a bottle trying to waylay the gnawing feeling inside that he couldn’t ignore. He thought it was just the love he had for Alex making one last appeal for mercy.
He was wrong.
“She just arrived, yo,” Bas reported over the phone after following Melanie to Alex’s home.
“I’m halfway there,” Santiago replied, already en route.
The Chrome .45 sat in his lap like a trained pit bull. Silent, but deadly. The gleam caught his eye as he passed under a streetlight. His drunken mind began to wander. He thought of Mel and envisioned her sweet, chocolate body spread all over Alex’s bed, one leg cocked up, her hands gripping the sheets while Alex stood over her, dick at full attention, ready to fulfill the need that Santiago could no longer fulfill. Every imagined kiss, moan, thrust, and bitten lip drove him closer and closer to the edge, and he was fully prepared to jump off.
He arrived at Alex’s condo, spotted Bas posted up in the cut and approached him.
“You sure you want to do this?” Bas questioned.
“I go in alone,” Santiago replied with a tight jaw.
Bas nodded. “I feel you, Big Brah. Handle your biz.”
Santiago pulled his gun from his pants as he approached the door, keeping it down by his leg. He knocked. Waited. Heard the locks on the door disengaged.
Alex opened the door, and the first thing he did when he saw Santiago was smile.
He smiled . . .
That smile said it all to Santiago’s jealous, enraged mind. The smile seemed to say “I win. You may be the boss, but I’ve got the prize. Your wife.” That smile seemed to taunt him, challenge him. The smile alone was enough evidence to justify Santiago blowing Alex’s brains out in the door. But he wanted to confront him, let him know he knew and listen to him beg for his life.
Until he saw Mel.
She came into view, visible over Alex’s shoulders, clad only in one of Alex’s shirts and shorts, heavily knotted at the waist. The sight was all it took to turn Santiago from a killer into a madman.
“You betrayed me!” Santiago bellowed and then raised the gun.
As soon as Alex saw the gun, he screamed, “Noooooo, Santiago, it’s—”
Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc! Click!
Santiago unloaded all nine shots in Alex’s face and brain, then stood over him to finish the job, exploding his gray matter all over the thick beige rug in the living room. Mel screamed uncontrollably. Santiago looked up at her with hell in his eyes. Lucky for her he had emptied his clip in Alex because there was no telling what he would’ve done to Mel.
“Oh my Goooood, Santiago! What have you done?” she cried.
Santiago backhanded her, and blood spewed from her mouth. He’d knocked her onto the couch.
“Cállate, puta! What have you done? You think you can betray me? Me! I’m like God to you, bitch. I know everything!” he bassed, drawing back to hit her again.
“Betray you? Santiago, what’s wrong with you? Oh my God! I didn’t betray you. We were planning your fucking surprise party!” Mel sobbed. “Look!”
Her words kept his hand suspended in mid-blow as her trembling hands held up the book on the table. The book was filled with games to be rented for a party. The rest of the table was covered in latex balloon samples in different colors bearing Santiago’s initials as well as program samples embossed with the words “Happy Birthday, Santiago,” in fancy script.
He staggered back, shaking his head, unable to square the reality being suddenly thrust upon him with the reality his thoughts had created for him. She handed Santiago an invitation, and he snatched it. “Fuckin’ liar!” he roared.
“No!” she shot right back. “It’s not a lie! He and I have been planning your party! Nothing more! The only reason I have on his clothes is because I spilled pasta sauce on my dress! Go look in the washer if you don’t believe me!” Mel explained, taking the invitation from his hand and flinging it on the floor.
Just then, Bas came in.
“Big Brah, what you doin’? Somebody was bound to hear all those shots. We gotta go!”
Santiago looked around the room, his mind still reeling. Birthday party? his thought echoed.
“Santiago!” Bas said firmly.
“Take her to the car,” he told Bas as he headed for the back.
“Where you go—”
“Take her and go!” Santiago bassed.
Bas didn’t ask any more questions. He led Mel to his car.
Santiago went straight to Alex’s pantry where he kept his washer and dryer. He snatched open the washer, and on first sight he felt vindicated because the washer looked empty. That is, until he put his hand inside and felt pure wet silk. His heart dropped. He pulled out the damp material. Mel’s dress.
He staggered back against the wall. Everything about his world was off kilter. Nothing was as it seemed. “It’s . . . it’s gotta be a lie!” he told himself.
Heading for the front door, he stopped and looked at Alex’s body, his face and head almost totally gone. Guilt flooded his system and tears welled in his eyes.
“Alex,” he murmured.
Bas blew the horn. Santiago quickly left the house and jumped into his own car, making his escape.