In case you missed my last post, the following is the second part of a history piece I wrote some years ago about the cast of my Cadillac Payback duology. Caddy begins with the death of a character who is very important to the crew, and the reader only gets to meet Charlie through other characters’ memories and opinions of him. This history . . . is Charlie’s POV. I’ve kicked around the idea of uploading this piece in ebook format in an attempt to make a small bit of change from it, but I don’t have the time or energy right now to dedicate to that project. So I’m posting it here for free.
Also, if you missed my last post, it’s still available to read.
If you haven’t read Cadillac Payback, that’s okay. The story still more or less makes sense, with a few nuances that might not. If you have read the Caddy story, this might hit you in the feels. This is part one of three that I’ll be posting over the next few days.
This writing has not been through an editor. This writing is my intellectual property. No AI was involved in these words, and I do not give permission for it to be used to train AI of any kind. With that being said, enjoy!
Cadillac Crew: Part 2, Charlie
Our house is far enough out in the country that the last stretch of road to get there is dirt. It’s hell keeping the Caddy washed, but it’s secluded from nosey neighbors, and the house is big enough for four of us to live there without tripping over one another.
I shift the transmission down and turn off the pavement. Even at a slow speed, the tires send the dust flying. I can almost taste it in the air though the windows are up. Creedence Clearwater Revival sings “Run Through the Jungle” as we creep closer to home.
In the passenger seat, Izzy stares out the window. He’s in the kind of mood that usually has him chain smoking. I’m a little surprised he doesn’t have a cigarette in his hand. He’s not exactly pissed, but he definitely isn’t happy that Josh is sitting in the seat behind him.
We haven’t fully discussed my intentions behind befriending Josh, but Isaiah is smart enough to see the signs. He doesn’t like it. I don’t believe it’s jealousy that drives him, that’s not really Izzy’s style. Still, he hasn’t been forthcoming about why he doesn’t like it.
The more time Josh has spent around the guys and me, the more comfortable he has become. I’ve started seeing glimpses of personality, traces of charm that, given time, could rival mine. That’s part of what has compelled me to keep him around, if I’m honest. He reminds me of me at that age.
That and the fact that he seems to be searching for somewhere to belong. I don’t know much about his past yet, but I’ve never heard him talk in depth about his family. He doesn’t mention friends. I have learned that he only went to college because his mom pressured him to and he hates it. I’ve also learned that he’s extremely smart but he doesn’t like for people to know it.
This will be the first time he’s been to our house, also the first time meeting the whole crew. We’ve been carefully quiet on the details about what we do when he’s around, but the implications are there and, like I said, he’s smart. He’s had to at least guess at the bigger picture.
Today is not about business, though. It’s July fourth. Jack and Noah have a rare day off from the restaurant, Couyan, and we’re having a cookout. It’s the perfect occasion to gauge how Josh will fit into the puzzle that is my crew. I’ll be the first to admit that we are a band of misfits.
When I pull into the driveway, Jack’s pickup is in one of the spots. I cut the engine and pop the trunk. Izzy, Josh, and I meet at the back of the car. Izzy grabs the grocery bags and doesn’t wait for us. Josh grabs the case of Modelo and stalls as I grab the liquor. I close the trunk then he follows me to the house.
Before I open the door, I put an arm in front of him about chest level and pin a serious look on him. The move is more aggressive than he’s seen from me and it stops him in his tracks. He warily scans the length of my arm then my face.
“There is one rule you need to know before you walk in my door,” I tell him, putting a little steel in my voice so there’s no doubt that I’m not messing with him. “Don’t fuck with my sister.”
He seems startled by the way his eyes go wide and his breath catches in his throat. He nods, though, so I believe he understands the gravity of the subject. I hold the eye contact a few seconds longer just to be sure, then menacing Charlie is gone and I’m pulling open the door.
I can hear Rancid blasting from the stereo. Inside smells like traditional Mexican spices that always remind me of my grandmother’s house—the days before we were on her shit list. In the kitchen, Maria is at the sink. Her back is to us and she’s shucking corn for elote and, hopefully, tamales. Noah is at the counter prepping limes to juice into a huge sun tea dispenser for margaritas. Izzy is putting the rest of the groceries away. I can smell the grill so I have a good idea where Jack is. There’s a solid chance Freddy is upstairs avoiding everyone.
Noah sees us first.
“Well hell, we have been blessed this day with a great presence!” he says like a Southern Baptist preacher. He flashes a smile and adds, “What’s good, Josh?”
“Who the fuck is Josh?” Maria says, turning toward us with a frown.
I step aside with an exaggerated flourish of my free hand toward Josh, whose mouth is partially open like he was about to answer Noah. He doesn’t say anything as his eyes lock onto Maria.
I’m watching him sideways for his reaction to her. His eyes don’t immediately fire with lust like I’ve seen in so many men. I’ve broken a nose or two over that look. There’s something else, though. I’d almost call it awe.
Maria gives him a haughty once-over then looks at me and says, “You didn’t tell me you had a new BFF.”
She uses a smart-assed tone that I know deep in my soul she learned from me. She lifts an eyebrow. The expectant expression tells me she’s pissed that I didn’t warn her I was bringing someone she doesn’t know. Ultimately, she’ll trust him if I do, but that’s not the point.
“This is Josh. Josh, this is Maria. Now you know,” I answer with a smirk that I know will piss her off more.
She stares at me long enough that I’m sure she’s about to start yelling in Spanish. She doesn’t. I’m amazed. She looks back to Josh.
“Can you roll a blunt, Josue?”
Beside me, I hear Josh swallow hard.
“No,” he says softly.
Maria’s eyes get big, obvious surprise that she turns on me. She doesn’t have to say it, I know she’s wondering what the hell kind of inexperienced welp I’ve brought home.
“I guess it’s time to learn,” she says. It sounds like she’s talking to him, but I know she’s talking to me.
“That’s an excellent idea,” I say, turning to Josh. My smirk becomes something a little more akin to a fox. “Do you want to learn from the best?”
His eyes take on a hopeful light. I doubt he has any idea it’s so plain to see. He’s so young to be lost out at sea like that. I’m curious now about his story.
“Sure,” he says. His tone is confident but I don’t believe it. I am impressed, though. I hold his eyes with mine for a while then nod.
Then I cross the kitchen to take the liquor to Noah. Izzy has frozen with a jug of milk halfway in the fridge. He looks like he has a puppy and I’ve kicked it. He looks away first.
As I approach, Noah meets my gaze. There’s a smile on his lips. It’s subtle for him. I do believe he’s onto me, too.
As a point, I don’t look at Maria. She won’t air grievances in front of a stranger. I know she wants to rail into me, but the truth is this is my operation, my responsibility. I will run it as I please. I’ll deal with her later.
I realize that Josh is still standing just inside the kitchen holding a case of beer. I point to the box and say, “Let’s get those on ice first.”
I lead him deeper into the house. In the dining room, Freddy has a towel spread out at one end of the table. There’s a completely dismantled pistol laid out on top of it and he’s staring at a specific piece. He makes no signs that he notices us, but I know better. He’s tracking us. I don’t say anything. Neither does he.
We pass through the empty living room and out the back door. Jack is at the grill turning a rack of ribs. I rip open the box of beer that Josh is still holding and grab two out. I hand one to Jack.
“Thanks, sir,” he says, popping the top off with the ass end of his tongs.
I know Josh’s arms have to be getting tired, but he hasn’t mentioned it or made a sign that it’s bothering him. I nod to a large, red cooler. He doesn’t wait for more directive, he starts loading it up.
“Do you want me to run the grill so you can have a break from cooking?” I say to Jack as I flip the cap off my own beer with the butt of my lighter.
“And have you fuck up my ribs? Not a chance,” he answers, giving me a look that I should know better. I do.
“I know how to work a grill, you know,” I say. My tone is not quite joking.
“Not as well as I do,” Jack answers with the same smile he uses to piss off his brother.
I shrug and say, “That’s true.”
Jack takes a drink, his eyes skipping to Josh as he does. He’s quiet for a while, then much softer he says, “I thought that might be the case.”
I follow his attention but only for a flash. “Feels like the right thing to do,” I say at the same volume.
Jack looks back to me and says, “It’s your call to make.”
I hold up a fist and he taps his on top of mine. This was our secret handshake as teenagers. We never stopped doing it.
When I turn around, I see that Josh has finished his task and is watching us. Of course he would notice the hushed conversation and conspiratorial way Jack and I were talking. Good. Josh is paying attention.
“All set?” I ask.
He nods. His expression is thoughtful and I wonder if he guesses that we were talking about him.
“Time to go to school,” I say with a grin. He stands and I see he’s empty handed, so I add, “Grab yourself a beer unless you’d rather wait for the margaritas.”
He gets a bottle from the ones he just stocked. It occurs to me that he may not know they’re not twist tops just as he tries to open it. I sidle up to him, set my beer down on the cooler, and take his out of his hand. He watches curiously as I slip my lighter from my pocket. I leverage the end of it between my finger and the rim of the cap. Then I pop it off.
The cap flies up. He watches it arc then descend. He catches it with a grin. It’s a simple move and a pure reaction. Something about it makes me trust my own decision regarding him.
“Nice catch,” I say casually as I hand him back his beer.
“Thanks,” he says.
He waits until I’ve retrieved my own bottle. He clinks the neck of his against mine and takes a drink. He’s already getting more comfortable in this setting.
As we turn back into the house, I cast a sideways glance at Jack. Of course he’s watching. He doesn’t give away a reaction, he just takes another drink and fields the brief eye contact.
Inside, I grab one of the various weed boxes we keep stashed throughout the house. I direct Josh to the dining room, to the opposite end of the table from Freddy. I take the head and Josh sits on the other side of the corner to my left.
Freddy doesn’t look up from running a file over the piece of gun in his hand, but I know damn well he’s aware there is a stranger in his presence, in the house where he lives.
As I open the box and begin removing the things we will need, my eyes are on Freddy. He’s wearing his glasses so he must be fairly high already. He’s shirtless, which isn’t strange on a day like this when the air conditioning is on but it’s hard to tell. That skull and crossbones tattoo on his chest always breeds an uneasiness when I see it. It’s a reminder of his past, and mine. I know he left the Reaps, but that doesn’t make it easier.
I set the weed and the grinder in front of Josh, and I realize his attention has wandered from what I’m doing to what Freddy is doing. Here we go.
About thirty seconds later, Freddy’s hands stop moving and his gray eyes lift. He stares until Josh raises his gaze and meets the attention. He doesn’t say anything. He also has no air of confrontation. That won’t matter to Freddy.
“Never seen a gun before?” Freddy asks, his voice gruff and his tone flat.
Josh’s vision sweeps over the pieces on the towel again and he says, “Not like that.”
Freddy’s forehead takes on a hard crease and his eyes slide to me. He doesn’t need to say anything. I catch the question and its tone in the incredulous glint in his scrutiny. What the fuck is this?
“Josh, this is Freddy. He’s not very nice. It’s okay if you don’t talk to him much. He prefers it that way,” I say.
I hold the connection with Freddy. He won’t cross the line of unwarranted violence in my house, and he won’t overtly tell my guest to fuck off. In return I won’t expect him to play nice. Without directly introducing them I’ve given Freddy a name and Josh a warning that it’s better to just leave this one alone. Though my relationship with Freddy is strained to say the least, I am aware he shows me respect that he affords very few people. In return I respect his personal boundaries.
“Gotcha,” Josh says, dismissing the scene at the other end of the table with unexpected candor. He sets to breaking up the bud and loading the grinder. He never looks back Freddy’s way.
Still, Freddy holds my eyes for a stretch. I’d love to lie to myself and say he won’t read the situation, and me, but I know he will. The guy is a genius. That’s part of why I tolerate his position in my crew. The bigger part is that Maria trusts him and he trusts her. For someone who rarely trusts anything, that speaks volumes. Regardless of how I feel about him, he will always protect my sister’s back.
Without another facial twitch he looks back to his gun. I go back to the blunt. The matter is closed.
As I coach Josh through the process, his attention never returns to Freddy. I’m silently impressed once again. I’ve seen some strong souls wither under Freddy’s glare. To say he’s not intimidating would be complete bullshit. Josh is handling him very well.
By the time the blunt is ready, Freddy’s gun is back in one piece. I pull my lighter from my pocket and spark it. Through the smoke I say, “We did the work, we get to hit it first.”
This coaxes a smile from Josh. It comes easy, and it doesn’t fade as he takes a drink of beer and waits for me to take a couple more tokes. The movement of Freddy popping a magazine into his pistol garners a glance from Josh, but his attention doesn’t linger.
I pass. Josh takes a hit then inspects the blunt. It’s perfect. Rolling them is an art I have mastered after so many years, one that I learned from my grandmother. Dad never liked blunts. He preferred spliffs.
“So do you think you can measure up to that?” I ask, tone gently teasing.
Josh takes another hit, eyeing me through the smoke. He exhales then says, “Give me a little time and I’ll do better.”
I lift an eyebrow and smirk. That’s the most ballsy thing I’ve heard him say. I knew it was in there, that I just had to coax it out. He returns the sentiment.
“Well then. Go on and take that to the princess before she starts getting shitty,” I say.
His lips slip and wariness returns to his eyes. It’s absolutely a strategic move sending him in without me, and I do believe he caught it. He doesn’t say anything, though, he just does it.
As he disappears through the doorway and I start putting away the remnants of our work, I hear Maria say, “It took you two long enough,” purposefully loud enough for me to hear.
I shake my head. My darling little sister. Of everyone here, she is the last in line who will go easy on the new guy. In fact, I know better than to leave Josh in there with her for too long.
Freddy and I stand at the same time. The gun he just fixed is in his hand, but the chamber is open so there’s no misconception that he means to use it. I wouldn’t expect him to, but I appreciate his meticulous adherence to safety protocol.
As we cross paths he pauses and throws me a sideways look.
“That guy is so green he wouldn’t burn on a bonfire,” he says, low and soft so the words don’t leave the room.
“Did you think I was unaware? Someone showed you the ropes once, didn’t they?”
His jaw tenses. That was a low blow that wasn’t necessarily warranted. I don’t know a lot of details about his past, but I know enough that the Jester was a hard teacher. Freddy stares for a moment then shrugs one shoulder and walks away.
When I enter the kitchen, Noah has the blunt. He’s leaning back against the counter with one arm wrapped around his midsection and the other hand holding the smoke. There’s a fresh tattoo outline on his forearm. He’s watching the scene with an amused grin.
Josh is standing in front of Maria, holding and enormous shot. She has one, too. She drinks her tequila like I do, no lime, no chill. She’s wearing her poker face.
Izzy is gone. Upstairs, I guess.
“You didn’t pour me one?” I ask in mock disbelief.
“Pour your own,” Maria snaps without looking my way. She adds to Josh, “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
They tap their glasses together. Maria throws hers back with enough finesse that it’s obvious she does this often. Josh doesn’t quite finish his before he has to stop. He can’t keep the aftereffects from showing on his face. Maria smiles like wolf.
“You’ll need to step up your game if you want to last around here,” she says.
“Noted,” Josh answers. Even his voice sounds like he wants to breathe fire.
Maria deposits her glass on the counter and takes the blunt from Noah with a sneer. Josh looks at me flatly. He knows she’s fucking with him but he doesn’t know her well enough to retaliate.
Three gunshots rip the moment wide open. They come from the backyard. Josh jerks and his attention whips toward the sound. Noah pushes his weight off the counter and goes still, his hand hovering next to the gun on his hip. Maria’s shoulders go rigid and her expression turns to ice. Both of them look to me. They’re waiting for my word.
“Freddy’s fixing a gun,” I say, plucking the blunt out of Maria’s hand.
Noah’s posture relaxes and my sister scowls at me. I wink.
“He could’ve warned us,” Noah mutters. He doesn’t get aggravated often, but he is now. Usually that tone is reserved for Jack.
“Don’t wink at me like I’m your next one-night stand. That Prince Charming bullshit doesn’t work on me,” Maria says in fast Spanish.
“It’s so easy to piss you off,” I answer in the same quick cadence.
“Yet you insist on doing it,” she says. Her fists have balled at her sides.
“Because it’s too easy. You need to learn to control your tempter,” I tell her. That should just about be the line.
Her mouth snaps shut and her eyes narrow. Then she turns toward the sink and snatches up the bowl of corn. She storms past me toward the backyard without looking at anyone.
“Phew,” Noah says. His tone is only slightly joking.
I smile at him but it’s half-hearted. A sigh flows heavily from me. I say, “If you had any idea what it’s like to be the big brother, you’d shut the fuck up, Noah.”
I expect him to crack back with another joke, but the emotion in his eyes isn’t humor. He’s always quick to see when the gears shift from easy-going to leader. He probably picked out more than a few words that were just exchanged.
“You’re a good big brother, Charlie,” he says. He slaps my shoulder then turns back to the alcohol.
The comment triggers a sharp pang in my chest. Sometimes I don’t feel like a good brother at all for dragging her through a life like this. Wouldn’t a good brother find something better?
I realize the blunt is burning idly in my hand and Josh is staring at me the way people tend to when they first witness Maria’s zero-to-one-hundred temper. He kind of looks like he’s been smacked in the face.
“Come on, time to spread the love,” I say, waving the blunt.
Out in the backyard, Jack is positioning corn beside the ribs. Freddy is setting up empty cans along a rail in the yard and his gun is in Maria’s hand. That ought to diffuse some of her anger. Maybe she’s taking my words to heart.
I pass the blunt to Jack then snag a few sets of ear protectors from a nearby tote. Maria is angled toward me, so I know she sees me coming. She pointedly ignores me until I reach the ear protection to her. Her eyes linger on the head gear then lift to me. She’s still pissed, but she’s thinking. She takes the gear without a word so I don’t say anything either.
I pass out protectors to Jack and Josh then get myself a set. By now, Freddy is finished setting up. As soon as he’s behind Maria, she lifts the gun. She knows everyone is watching her. Will it faze her? Not likely.
I watch her draw a long breath. Her shoulders relax and her finger slips through the trigger guard. She squeezes. The first can goes flying.
Her body barely moves when she aims at the next can. She takes only a few seconds then fires again. She works her way down the line. Six shots, six cans now in the grass. Sometimes, I swear she’s a better shot than I am.
When she turns around she has a big smile on her face. She shoves one side of the ear protectors back.
“She shoots like a dream, Frederick,” she says. She speaks to him like the rest of us aren’t here. He smirks at her. They’re like that sometimes.
I look over to see Josh’s reaction. His mouth is slightly open and his eyes are round. He’s watching her like he’s never seen anything like her. That’s fair and it’s true.
I reach over and pull one side of the head gear away from his ear. The action brings his attention to me.
“Are you sure you want to learn from the best? She did,” I say.
“Yes,” he says quickly. No hesitation. No fear. Just that wayward hope I saw earlier.
I gently put the ear piece back and nod.
I cut away from him to Maria. Her smile falters a little. I sling an arm around her shoulders and squeeze.
“I’m proud of you, kid,” I say softly in Spanish.
Freddy is fluent so I know he’ll understand. The switch in language this time is more a matter of familiarity than confidentiality. When I pull away Maria smiles up at me.
“Mind if I have a turn, Freddy?” I ask.
He slips a magazine from his pocket and hands it to me. Maria passes me the gun then heads out in the yard to set up more cans. I study the pistol as I release the spent magazine. It’s a Springfield XD 9mm. Freddy must have picked it up for cheap or trade. He tends to roll with a much higher caliber.
I reload and hand the empty one to Freddy. Once Maria is safely behind me, I take aim. I do the same thing I watched my sister do. I let my shoulders and hands relax, taking slow, methodical breaths. I squeeze with an old easiness born from experience.
I move down the line without hesitating between each shot like Maria did. The last shot nicks the can enough to make it wobble, but it doesn’t fall.
“I’ll be damned,” I mutter. Maria laughs. I hand the gun to Freddy and say, “She hangs to the left a little.”
A fraction. The kind that shows up on an important test.
“I know,” he says with a nod.
“Carry on,” I say, walking away.
I glance toward the second story window. I haven’t missed the fact that Izzy hasn’t joined us yet. His issue with bringing Josh in must run deeper than I thought. It won’t do to push him on the issue. That’s not the kind of communication Izzy responds to. He also won’t bring it up unless I ask. I just have to wait until the right time.
As I approach Josh, I catch his attention. I gesture with my chin toward Freddy and Maria, a silent invitation to take a turn. He shakes his head in a tiny decline. I thought as much. He doesn’t know how to shoot. Seems a second lesson is in order, when he’s ready, and most likely when it’s just the two of us.
Aj Elmore, Author 