B3 — 27. Saved?

AuthorSME

POV:  Zoe (Domestic Cat Beastkin; first Demi Rachel met after changing that told her about the game system style of fiction)

Recap:  Rachel told Zoe to ask around for Maria in Little Havana, her home turf, and to try and get protection from the gangsters there until she could come for her at night.

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A lump dropped down Zoe’s throat as she ended the call with Rachel, scanning the streets for the white SUV BMW that had been following her all morning.  She’d lost sight of it, but she knew it was probably circling around.  The SUV was the same one Deodato Vomele had used to take her to his café to test out her work ethic.

She’d done her best to play the role she knew people at the café would enjoy, a cute catgirl server, and had made a decent amount in tips.  She loved it, but that wasn’t the job Deodato wanted her to do, and after she’d overheard a few strange conversations with her enhanced hearing, she became a bit nervous about the client he was scouting for.

Calístrato Ballesteros wasn’t a familiar name to her, but being from Kansas, she wasn’t that familiar with Mexican names or culture other than what she’d seen in the media, and she didn’t have any Latino friends growing up.

The flag that made her tail stand on end was his tone of voice when talking about her as his new maid, and when she tried to back out, things started to get a little scary.  Just to get out of the conversation, she promised to meet the client tonight at six before making her own decision about the job.  She planned to just stand him up.

Her cat ears twitched as she pulled up Maps on her phone and put the directions Rachel had given her; it led right into the heart of Little Havana.  C’mon, don’t be a scaredy-cat … heh.  You can do this!  Rachel will come later tonight, and it makes sense … she’s a Lunar Hare, but … I don’t know.

Zoe’s amber irises stopped at a gas station across the street, making her lips purse.  I just need to make it to this Maria’s place.  It shouldn’t be that hard.

She looked both ways on the busy street as the light changed, and she followed the crowds across the street.  Miami was booming with life as it passed afternoon, and she hoped she could lose the car in the throng, but somehow it kept showing up whenever she stopped.  If it just came close enough, I could hear the voices inside, but there’s so much noise!

The loud sounds made her scratch the inside of her furry ears with irritation, but it was better than being alone.  She wasn’t sure if anyone was keeping an eye on her since there were so many people around, and her appearance attracted a lot of eyes.

At first, she loved the attention, and if what she’d heard was correct, it was only a one in a hundred and fifty chance that someone would be affected by The Oscillation, and she’d been one of those drawn.  Out of that selection, then she was made into a Beastkin, which was one of the most visually identifying groups.

It made her feel special, but now all she felt like was a collector’s piece or zoo animal; the image of her sitting in a glass box or mounted like a trophy kept popping into her mind.  How does Rachel do it?  She actually glows … she’d have more people interested in her than I would, and my skin’s crawling.  Rachel … she said she’d come find me, which means she’s probably out of the government’s hands.  No … I don’t know what she’s been doing.  I can ask her later…

Turning at the gas station door, she scanned the sunny area; there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.  Since the Martial Law order had been repealed, a ton of people had hit the streets, and it only seemed to be growing.

She had noticed the Hispanic population increasing as she moved further west, and from what Rachel had said, that was a good thing.  It did make her a little nervous, though; when she first arrived in Miami, she’d been told by a few locals to be careful in Little Havana, and she’d seen a report that Miami-Dade had the seventh-largest gang populations in America, which didn’t ease her fears.

Entering the gas station, she tried to ignore the eyes that lingered on her three-foot-long black tail and cat ears; she’d needed to wear low-riding jeans to allow her tail to roam, and it poked out from under her white shirt.

She couldn’t understand the voices in the cars with the noise the crowds made, but she could hear what the tourists and locals said, and some comments spoken in whispers to friends more than made her cheeks red.  Men and women … how can adults be so crude!  I’m a cute catgirl, not some lolita, and how can some people think I’m thirteen years old … The Oscillation didn’t make me look that young…

Deciding to be quick about it, Zoe walked up to the attendant, a middle-aged Hispanic woman, and waited her turn in line before asking, “Hello!  Can you, umm, tell me how I should get here?”  She asked, pulling up her phone.

The woman glanced behind her at the few customers that were getting in line before her brown eyes moved from her cat ears to her phone; she had a slight Hispanic accent.  “Let’s see … eh, wait, you goin’ there?”  She lifted an eyebrow while studying her face.  “You don’t look like the type of girl to be goin’ into those neighborhoods; there’s a lot of gangs around those parts.  You got a boy there?  How old are you?”

“I’m seventeen, and no, I don’t have a boy there.”

Zoe’s cheeks burned as a man with a Jamaican accent whispered, “Aye, yo, you think she’s for real?”

“Na, man.  She’s fifteen; no doubt.”

“You sure, that old?”

“Eh, maybe … what do you think?”

“A runaway.”

“No, her age, fool.”

She tried to ignore the comments, giving the woman a nervous laugh as she lifted her eyebrow questioningly.  “No, I’m really seventeen; I graduated last summer.  Here … that’s my driver’s license.”

The Jamaicans both tried to hide a snort with a cough, and the woman gave her a rueful shake of her head.  “That don’t mean shit here, dear; we get fake ID’s all the time.  You sure you’re here to get directions, or are you tryin’ to buy boos?”

Starting to feel belittled, Zoe took a long breath to calm her racing heart.  “No, and how would I even buy alcohol when I’m only seventeen?”

The woman looked to the left, scratching her neck while cocking her head a bit.  “Hmh, yeah, you got a point.  Okay, but you already got directions, it seems.

“Yeah, but I’m looking for someone named, umm…”  She pulled back her phone and swapped to her notes.  “Maria—Camila Espinar’s … I think that’s how you say it, and her brother’s name is Felix Espinar.”

The woman sucked on her lower lip before folding her arms and frowning, head turning to look out of the window at a few cars that left.  “Can’t say I’ve heard of them, but I don’t keep up with things in that area.  Also, it’s not good to be droppin’ names like that; if I catch your meaning.  In those areas, you better be sure about who you talk to.”

“You said there were some places to avoid by there?”  Zoe’s ears pulled back.  “I, umm … could you just tell me which path you think I should take.”

“You walkin’?”

“I don’t have a car.”

She clicked her tongue before turning toward a younger man beside her, ringing up the Jamaican’s order.  “Hey, Joal, you got some friends over in those parts, right?”

“Eh, one minute,” he muttered, finishing the purchase.  “Let’s see … NLH?  Yeah, I have a few friends on the northside, but not in those areas.  Probably not best to walk around those parts, man.  TNS doesn’t like new faces showing up in their neighborhoods, and … yeah, you’ll stick out with those ears and tail.”  He said with a forced chuckle.

Zoe pursed her lips before scratching the side of her head, where her human ears had once been and brushed her black bangs back.  “TNS?”

“A gang, dear,” the woman chuckled, shaking her head.  “Yeah, you shouldn’t be pokin’ around there if you don’t know about this stuff.”

“A friend told me to ask around about Maria in Little Havana,” Zoe shrugged with a frown as she turned to see the line backing up.

“A prank?”  The boy mumbled while ringing up a few sodas.

The woman shook her head, nose twisting.  “If that’s right, they’re lookin’ to get you killed.”

“Well,” Zoe paused, vision sweeping the store as more people came and went.  “I have some people following me, and … I don’t know.  I know it sounds a bit strange.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” the woman shrugged.  “I wouldn’t get involved with those types of people, but that’s just me; go to the police if you need help.  I can’t really help you with choosing a route to get there, and sorry, but some people are tryin’ to buy things…”

“Yeah, yeah, no problem; sorry to bother you,” Zoe smiled apologetically while stepping back and putting her ID away.

She looked at the GPS’s recommended path; it would take her at least forty minutes to get there by following the shortest route.  None of the customers approached her, but she heard enough whispers to make her self-conscious; everyone seemed to have an opinion about her appearance.  Demi seemed to be on everyone’s tongue.

Leaving the store, she paused at the edge of the sidewalk, eyes widening; the white SUV was stopping at the nearest gas pumps, and two huge men were getting out of the car, men she’d seen with Deodato, and she could hear his voice within the vehicle.  You have to be kidding me!  He is stalking me, but … for what?  Some kind of Mexican drug trade thing or something?  That only happens in the movies...

“Gah…”  She growled while hurriedly turning and walking down the recommended path.  The men paused as she moved with a large group of what seemed tourists; it appeared like this was their first chance since the lock-down to get out and do sight-seeing with their enthusiasm.

I should just go to the police, but what do I tell them?  I’m being followed by gangsters like some paranoid schizophrenic?  Oh, the cute catgirl thinks she’s being followed … it never works out in the movies, and usually, people discriminate against Beastkin in a lot of anime.

C’mon, this is reality, though … really?  A maid job that pays forty-five grand a year, and not even full-time.  I should have thought it was fishy to start, you stupid cat, and meeting the client in a café … it’s just too cliché and creepy.  Maybe I should be on medication...

Zoe took a deep breath as she separated from the group at the next light, and noticed the men getting back into their SUV at the gas station.  Well … Rachel already said she’d help me, and I don’t know what she can really do, but she’ll have a plan.  I hope she does … but why is she friends with a gangster?  She didn’t seem like that kind of girl when we first met.

Her worries didn’t ease up as she continued into Little Havana, and she started to notice graffiti, Cuban flags, but as she went on, specific areas hosted Mexican flags, and shoes were hanging from a few power lines in some areas.

It was becoming more and more apparent that she was entering a place she didn’t belong.  The neighborhood feeling became less lively with Cuban touches and more Mexican as she turned down a few streets, and unsurprisingly, she either heard Mexican mariachi music or rap.

The new issue was the thinning crowds, and the SUV was following her again, now able to take its time as traffic cleared.  She tried to ignore the men and women standing on porches, and one thing was clear about this neighborhood, they loved their tattoos and classic cars.

Zoe walked onto a new block, noticing a few Hispanic eleven-year-old kids watching her across the street, a woman pushing a stroller with a young teen walking beside her.  Zoe folded her arms defensively, stopping dead in her tracks as two men in their late thirties caught sight of her from a house two doors down.

They were shirtless, showing off dozens of tattoos as they sat in chairs on their front porch, assault rifles on their laps with rags.  Sunglasses were covering their eyes, and she could hear dozens of people inside and in the back of the house; it sounded like they were having a barbecue.

She chuckled nervously while smiling at them, but quickly looked away and picked up her pace as their forehead creased.  Their attention moved from her to the white SUV as it turned the corner, and they got to their feet, hands gripping their guns as they eyed the vehicle, and the one to Zoe’s left nudged his head, mumbling something in Spanish.

“Oye, dile a Miguel que podríamos tener problemas.”

He opened the screen door and disappeared inside as the remaining guy moved to the lawn, hands gripped on his weapon as he sniffed loudly, focusing on the BMW as it slowed to a stop, and the door opened.

Zoe bit her lower lip while she walked, turning to watch the man get out; it was one of the big guys that were around Deodato the day before.  He was a Caucasian, at least two meters tall, and looked like he belonged in the pro wrestling scene.  “Hey, Zoe.”

She turned, walking backward while she yelled, “Stop following me!”

The woman pushing the stroller slowed, eyeing the big man, and the boy beside her pulled up on his belt to fix his baggy pants.  His nose twisted while eyeing the situation.

“Zoe,” he chuckled, keeping his focus on her.  “We shouldn’t disturb this neighborhood.  Come back...”

“Aye, yo,” the man with the rifle yelled.  “Hombre, what you doin’ here, huh?  You got business, then do it somewhere else.”

The large man chuckled, turning to smile at the gangster.  “Yeah, my sister, she’s just having a bit of a tantrum.”

“I’m not your sister!”  Zoe yelled, still backing up.  “I’m looking for Maria Camila Espinar and Felix Espinar!”

“Zoe…”

“Aye, aye,” the gangster cut him off, focus now on her.  “What was that, chica?  Aye, yo, don’t be walkin’ away while droppin’ names, orejas de gato!  Say that again.”

Zoe’s fingers tightened on her shoulders as her stomach turned.  “I—I, umm—I’m looking for Maria Camila Espinar and Felix Espinar.”  Her voice started to shake.

He licked his lips before popping his tongue a few times.  Sniffing loudly, he turned to the boy walking beside the stroller.  “David, lleva a tu mamá de regreso.”  He turned to the kids watching from across the street and snapped, “Lleva tu trasero a casa.”

They quickly ran on, yelling, “Lo siento, tío Javier!”

“Now,” his tongue slid across the inside of his lips again as he turned back to her.  “What’s this about you lookin’ for da Queen?”

Just as Deodato’s man was about to say something, the front door of the house opened, and over a dozen men exited, joining the gangster on the lawn.  Two of the men looked Jamaican while the rest were Latino.  Each of them had weapons in their pants or rifles around their shoulders.

The leader appeared to be a muscular Latino with tattoos across his body and face.  He was shirtless like most of his gang and had a forty-five tucked in the back of his baggy black pants.  He sniffed, rubbing his goatee while joining his man.  “Javier, ¿qué pasa?  ¿Quién es esta burra blanca y orejas de gato?”

“Aye, she says she’s lookin’ for da Queen.”

Deodato’s man held up his hands with a forced smile.  “We don’t want any trouble from TNS.”

The leader lifted an eyebrow as another Jamaican with long dreads exited the house.  “Yo, Miguel, we got a problem?  What’s goin’ on?”

“Na, no issues, Arcus,” Miguel lifted an eyebrow at Deodato’s man.  “You got a problem with us, vatos?”

“Like I said, no … I’m just here to take my sister…”

“Yo, cut the bullshit, vatos,” Javier growled.  “She said she ain’t your sister.”

“Oh, that right?”  Miguel chuckled, turning to Zoe.  “He’s not your hermano?”

Zoe was still trying to decide if she should run or not, but cleared her throat before rigidly shaking her head; her ears were laid back, tail stiff.  These are real gangsters … they’ve got guns and everything.  How can they even have that here?  This is insane!  Maybe I should just run…

“Okay,” he popped his tongue.  “Then, who are you?  Eh?”

The back window of the SUV rolled down, revealing Deodato.  “I run a café Downtown.  She works for me.”

A lump dropped down Zoe’s throat as a man inside the car whispered, “Hey, we need to go.  It looks like we’re in the middle of an arms deal between TNS and Zoe Pound.”

“He runs a café,” Miguel laughed, slapping one of his men on the chest.  “What kind of café owner owns a … oh, nice,” he mumbled, walking up to the vehicle.  “What is this, a twenty-twenty BMW X-Seven?”

Deodato’s man tensed as the gang casually closed the distance, and Arcus nodded with a smirk while studying the front.  “You’re no fool, Miguel, got a sharp eye, amigo.  Yeah, this is what, seventy-five grand?”

“No lie,” Miguel muttered, eyes narrowing as he stared at Deodato.  “Tell me, how does a normal café owner afford this, and who are they, body-guards?”  He chuckled.

Zoe could hear a bit of stress in Deodato’s voice.  “Calístrato Ballesteros is my client.”

The gang turned to look at each other, and Arcus hummed darkly.  “What was dis?  You work for Ballesteros?  I don’t like him, and I hear he’s tryin’ to fill in da shoes of dat ol’ boy Marcus.”  He spat on the car.  “I didn’t like Marcus; he was a fool.”

Miguel reached behind his back and pulled out his pistol, making Zoe freeze, and Deodato’s man put his hands up as a few of the other gang members shifted their rifles in their hands.

“I don’t like snakes, Señor café owner, and you look like a snake.  If you work for Ballesteros, you also know he shorted me fifteen grand and needs to pay up, amigo.”

“Huh, Ballesteros owes me twenty and extra,” Arcus said, Jamaican accent becoming stronger.  “Why don’t we take the trans and split the profit, eh?  What do you think, Miguel?”

“Aye,” Miguel smiled, tapping the side of the window with his gun.  “I need a message sent back to Ballesteros, and it’s either a body or a car.  What you choosing, vatos?”

Deodato took a deep breath.  “How would I get home?”

Arcus chuckled.  “Not my brother’s problem; take it to the yard and catch the teeth, bumbaclot.”

Miguel pointed it at each of Deodato’s men inside the car while saying, “And it be like eeny, meeny, miny, moe, parumpapumpum,” he rolled it off his tongue while jabbing the barrel in Deodato’s direction.  “Uh, vatos?”

“Miguel,” Deodato chuckled.  “I’m sure we can…”

“No, bitch.  I don’t care what you talkin’ ‘bout, it’s irrelevant.  Get outta da car, homes, or my boys will light it up.”

“Mash it up, ras clot,” Arcus moved around the car, taking out a knife from his pocket.  “Get back to Ballesteros and tell em Zoe Pound sends their regards for his yellow paper.  Don’t be makin’ a fool again.”

The doors quickly opened, but before they could move two feet, Arcus clicked his tongue.  “Aye, you no see, stakki?  I didn’t say you could leave with your tools.”

All of Miguel and Arcus’ men pointed their weapons, and a few onlookers quickly left after seeing what was happening on the street.

“No, I—I understand … everyone, put your guns on the ground.”

“Wallets, too, chico, or we goin’ to set it off.”

“Just do as he says,” Deodato growled, shooting a scathing glance at Zoe.

They quickly left after dropping everything, and the gang turned their attention to her.  “Okay, chica, we see you,” Miguel tucked his gun back into his pants and motioned for his boys to relax.  “Now be straight; why you lookin’ for the Queen?  Maria be hittin’ lotta circuits recently, yo.”

“I—umm…”  Zoe was having a hard time completing her thoughts; everything was happening so fast, but she took a deep breath and cleared her throat.  “My friend told me—told me that Maria would protect me.”

“Smart, eh?”  Miguel chuckled, slapping one of his boys again.  “What you think?  She looks around Elena’s age, eh?”

“Na, maybe a bit younger,” Javier said.

“Mmh, huh,” he popped his tongue again as Arcus eyed her with a frown.  “Why’s Ballesteros sendin’ guys to tail you, huh?  You got somethin’ of his?”

Zoe shook her head and quickly explained the situation to them; it fell out like word vomit, but the gangsters listened and even brought out a chair for her to sit on the lawn while they talked.  Arcus seemed to get bored and went to the backyard, leaving a man to tell him what happened.

After she was done, Miguel hummed darkly.  “Ah, okay, yeah, seems like you was about to be made into Ballesteros main chica.”  He shook his head, and the other men did the same, noses twisted with disgust.  “Ain’t about that shit, but hey, if what you be sayin’ is true, then you got nothin’ to be worried about.  Maria’s got a lot of influence since she and her crew took out Terrell.”

He turned his head toward Javier with a smirk.  “Tell one of the lil’ niños to go fetch Elena.  I always like seeing her cute face; yo, did I tell you ‘bout the time her dad took a bullet for me?”

“Shit, all the time,” Javier sighed.  “She’s one crazy chica, though, Miguel; almost took my eye out last time I said she was growing up pretty.”

“That’s why she got the nickname badazz,” Miguel laughed.  “Nine years old, yo, she told her mamá, I’m thuggin’ outside, we don’t need cable.  Eh?”

“You told me,” he chuckled.  “She’s ruda loca.”

Zoe felt a bit of her tension ease as the conversation continued, and she was beginning to feel sweat gathering on her forehead as the sun continued to rise in the sky.

Okay, I just need to wait for this Elena girl to come get me … do I really look that young to people, and the girl I’m supposed to see took out another gang?  I don’t want to be treated like a little kid, but this is scary.  I really need to ask Rachel how she knows these kinds of people because this is freaking insane!

AuthorSME

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