And now for the conclusion…
When school let out for the summer Martin was dangling at the end of his rope managing the two starkly different parts of his life. He had finally gotten done wrapping up the year a week afterward. The classroom had been cleared out and he headed home, tired but satisfied.
He fantasized about a hot shower and crisp, cold bed sheets as he trudged up the front steps. Before his key entered the lock, he could hear laughter coming from inside. It was Lena and someone else he didn’t recognize. Martin shrugged it off and opened the door. His work bag slipped from his hand as he saw the guest sitting comfortably at his dining room table.
“Marty!” Alonzo hollered before jogging over to meet him at the door. “Welcome home,” he whispered mischievously.
Lena playfully shoved Alonzo out of the way and planted a kiss on her husband’s stiff lips. “Alonzo was just telling me about the work you do together. Logistics, client recruitment… seems like you could get in full time over the summer with school out. You could make a lot.”
She joined Alonzo at the table and motioned for Martin to join them. “Why you still standing with the door open?! Wastin’ all my air conditioning.”
“You know,” Alonzo started somberly. “You remind me of my mom, of what little I remember.”
As Lena’s face softened, she didn’t notice Martin lowering himself slowly into the chair between them.
“She was kind, welcoming, and really really loved me, you know? Like, I couldn’t do wrong in her eyes.”
“What happened to her?”
“She, uh, she passed away, unfortunately. Car accident.”
“Goodness! I’m so sorry. You were young, right?”
“Yeah. Uncle Leo took me in with my sister Cariann. We’re like his kids. Everyone here just made me feel real welcome. Like I wasn’t alone.” Alonzo lowered his head and brought his hand up to his dry eyes.
Martin glared at Alonzo with disgust. “I thought you and Cariann had the same mom and she’s very much alive.”
His head rose with a cold and blank expression. “You got it wrong, Marty.”
“I’m not sure I do.”
“Martin, leave the man alone!” She scurried to Alonzo’s side, patting his shoulder. “Let me get that book you wanted to borrow.”
He smiled sweetly, holding onto her hand for a moment. He turned quickly back to Martin.
“Relax. You’re going to have to. She’ll be back in a second and you’re, uh, telling on yourself.”
Martin did not take his eyes off Alonzo.
“Here you go: Scattered Poems by Jack Kerouac. That’s a pretty specific request. Most people want the big titles. How’d you hear about it?”
“Oh you know,” Alonzo said, still looking at Martin. “Just poking around you find interesting things.”
Martin forced a twitchy smile, but under the table, was gripping the chair until his fingers cramped. “You got what you came for. Better get going, friend.”
“I sure will.”
“Come back anytime. I have lots more books.”
“Appreciate it Mrs. LaSalle.”
“Oh, call me Lena. It’s fine.”
His feigned shyness nearly evaporated when he turned to Martin. The men grasped hands, each applying more and more pressure.
“Okay, you two! Good night, Alonzo. See you later,” she escorted him to the door. There was more giggling and playful banter on the porch before Lena returned amused and refreshed.
“Jealous much?” she said, rolling her eyes. “He’s a kid and I remind him of his mom.”
“I don’t want him here.”
“Wow, okay, it’s that deep? You think something’s going to happen between us?”
“No, I just—”
“Martin. We’re in a new neighborhood. He’s a friend.” Exasperated, she left him sitting at the table and closed the door to her office.
Martin was no longer a guest at the Filbert Street building, but a member. He entered without an escort and passed Uncle Leo on the stairs, waving as he went. He had business with Matthew. He could not work with Alonzo anymore. Things had gotten out of control. He pounded on the apartment door, breathing heavily, but not from his swift ascent. He had a lot to say about what had been going on. He was filled with a mixture of fear and rage. Martin pounded again, more insistent this time.
The door creaked open. Martin’s face tensed as he stared at Alonzo. Just the person he didn’t want to see. “Where’s Matt?”
“He left.”
“To where?”
“Not sure,” Alonzo said nonchalantly. “New assignment.”
“I need to speak—”
“You can speak with me. I’m your new boss.” He opened the door widely to reveal a newly designed apartment.
The fear dissipated and was entirely replaced with rage.
No one was in the trailer in PA. He’d had the summer to case the area and noted that associates only occupied the house briefly when they were due to deliver. A big shipment had come in the week before and there would be nothing coming for a month. Martin brought the bulletproof vest Alonzo gave him.
He opened up the trailer and found a scant dwelling with no personal items. A few snacks and soda cans in the refrigerator. The bed was made.
Martin returned right before he knew he’d be called for a pickup and knocked on the door. Before the occupant could say a word, Martin pointed a gun in his face. “Get inside.”
“You dumb as fuck.”
“Shut up.”
He began stuffing his duffel bag with money and drugs.
“You won’t get far, trust me.”
“Shut up!”
“Hey, LaSalle.”
Martin’s head whipped around to find Alonzo casually standing in the doorway.
“How the hell—”
“While you were learning our habits, we were learning yours. Shame. You teach, but don’t learn,” Alonzo said. He held the door open for the other man, who quickly ran out into the dark.
“I have a gun.”
“I know. One of mine.” Alonzo shrugged, “Martin, you don’t know what you’re doing. You could be living just fine. You got the new apartment, a nice little office in the front room. You could have quit anytime. That’s the beauty of it. We don’t hold on to people. But that’s because…we’re your neighbors, your students, employers, shop owners… if you stay, you need to keep quiet. And if you go, you still gotta keep quiet. Cuz I might be a neighbor again.”
“You’ve killed people. You’re kidding yourself.”
“How do you think heat has never been in our neighborhood? There’s nothing to see. Old ladies coming from the airport. Students bringing home science projects…” Alonzo opened the fridge and got a can of soda. “It’s perfect. We live like rich people. People in the organization don’t pay for anything. We eat good food, and we don’t have to be where we are not welcome.”
“Police are watching you. They always are.”
“They know what we tell them. We might sacrifice a shipment and some unfortunate dudes to keep up the lie, but for every kilo they catch, we already sold 20.” Alonzo chuckled then belched loudly and laid on the bed.
“Relax LaSalle. You’re not leaving this trailer. Not tonight.”
Martin made a running start toward the lounging man and was struck with a quickly raised elbow. Falling back, he came at Alonzo again, punching him in the jaw, then in his belly. Alonzo fell forward wheezing then rose fast, headbutting Martin, who stumbled back without falling, catching himself against the trailer wall. Alonzo grunted, his mouth dripping blood, and went on the attack.
The men tussled violently, shaking the trailer and knocking over what little was on the shelves. Alonzo tried to keep his distance. The kid wasn’t as confident with his fists as he’d been with a gun in hand. He began hurling whatever he could find to stop Martin’s advances.
After deflecting a flying drawer, Martin lunged forward, suddenly close enough to grab Alonzo, who he threw to the ground. Martin quickly settled his weight on top of him, beating him about the face and chest. Bloodied, exhausted, and nearly unrecognizable, Alonzo fell still. Martin quickly tied him up, with a piece of torn bed sheet already stained with their blood.
Just then, Martin noticed the headlights of cars pulling up. He ducked down behind a seating area and looked out a broken window. Alonzo groaned in the next room. He was still down.
Men approached the trailer, donned in black with sunglasses and fitted caps. They were armed. A deepening dread filled Martin as he thought of Alonzo’s last words to him.
You’re not leaving this trailer. Not tonight.
A loud bang rang through the metal siding, startling Martin. He fell back and knocked over a kettle. The men outside could hear the commotion and knew their target was still inside. The first few shots blew holes in the upper cabinets. A few others knocked out the front window. One hit a wind chime.
Martin stood up and started firing back, ducking down and shifting position when the strangers returned fire. They started emptying their clips with a tighter grouping of bullets. Martin did not relent and emptied his own clip.
One man stepped forward and fired directly at Martin through the broken front window, hitting him in the neck, then the chest and hand. Martin slumped back against the cabinets and powerlessly grasped at his wounds as he slowly bled out. The man stepped closer and continued firing as Martin's vision blurred and his senses faded. His body grew limp as he desperately fought against his diminishing strength. He was hit twice more, in the chest and thigh.
When the men entered the trailer, Martin was leaning against the splintered cabinets and barely breathing. They turned toward Alonzo, who sounded grateful to be found. His tone quickly changed. There were scuffles as Alonzo pleaded and struggled.
Blood dripped over Martin's eyes and burned. He could faintly hear Alonzo screaming now. Everything was distant and all he could think of was going to sleep. Then a single shot was fired. The trailer fell silent.
“What do we have here?” the detective said.
“One dead, tied up, beaten, and shot.
“Fuck.”
“I know. The other one was shot multiple times. He’s in the ambulance.”
The detective rushed over before the ambulance could leave. “Wait, wait, let me see him. Is he conscious?”
“No, he’s dead. We pronounced him an hour ago.”
“Did he say anything?”
“His throat was full of blood. Too far gone. He was barely alive when we got here.”
Dejected, the detective approached an officer taking notes at the scene.
“Say, Matt, what’s your theory?”
“Looks like the guy in the vest came to steal. Definitely. Maybe his friend is the inside man who set up the heist. The crew makes an example of him.”
“Nice. And we already know the guy inside?”
“Alonzo Perez. Bronx native. No ID on the other man.”
“You’re from there, right? You knew Alonzo?”
“Yeah, he worked for my Uncle. Nice kid.”
The detective patted his shoulder and went to give a statement to the growing crowd of reporters. Matthew stared at the trailer, dutifully scribbling notes. His burner started buzzing. He had a new text. “Dinner’s done?”
“Yeah .”
This season was written and directed by me. Story editing by Leigh Green. Sound effects from freesound.org.
These seasons are never easy.. to write them, but especially to record and add sound and richness to it.
I hope you’ve enjoyed this presentation and I’ll see you next time.
No Way Home: Chapter Four