Hellbent Hero by Naomi Porter
10
Hero
I FACED FORWARD in the chow line, eyeing the skinhead twenty feet in front of me. The one who called me a wall-jumping spick when I first arrived. The one who sneered as he muttered, beaner. The stupid fucker. I’d never been to Mexico, and hell, I didn’t even like beans.
I’d been called a whole lot worse, so I had blown him off to avoid any drama with the racist piece of shit.
Not today, though.
“You understand your job,” I asked in a hushed tone, facing forward. Ryder maintained a foot’s distance behind me as I moved forward.
“Pass Dutra the small photo. Tell him ‘your life or theirs at midnight.’ Six words. Will he know what to do?” The questioning in his voice showed his youth and inexperience.
“Yes.” I took a couple more steps, sneering at the glowering skinhead. Game on, motherfucker. I just needed to maintain control. What happened next should only be a diversion. Nothing more. I didn’t want to catch any more charges.
“Okay,” Ryder mumbled.
“Stop looking at me, beaner,” the skinhead gritted out as he approached, hands rolled into tight fists. He was an ugly cunt. One lazy eye that gave me the willies, a missing front tooth, and a zigzag scar down the left side of his face. Had he pissed off Zorro, another fence-jumping, bean-eating spick? Naw, his mark reminded me of Boxer’s and his pet knife, Ricky’s artistry. I’d seen him leave his signature R on a fair number of corrupt pricks.
“Or what, cabrón?” I puffed out my chest, sensing Ryder backing away to avoid getting mixed in the scuffle as I told him to.
“Speak English fucker!”
“White, back on your side,” a DO shouted.
“Asshole… There’s your English, you fucking Nazi.” I dug my teeth into my bottom lip to cool my jets. But, man, I wanted a piece of that bigot.
“Better watch what you say to me, fence jumper.”
“Enough!” the DO yelled.
“Or what, little white man. You gotta be loco crazy if you think you can take me.” I hit my fist on my chest to antagonize him. “So, back it the fuck up, Whitey.” I hocked a loogie and spat it on his shoe with a wry grin, fully expecting him to throw the first punch.
And he did.
His pathetic little swing connected with the right side of my jaw; it felt more like a love tap. The skinhead was about four inches shorter than me. I held back the urge to teach the dude a lesson and beat him to a pulp. Instead, I shoved him hard in the chest to get in one uppercut punch to his solar plexus—the way Boxer had taught me.
Nobody seemed to care as Whitey bent at the waist and sucked in a wheezing breath. A second later, he raised to his full length, face red. Then, just as he lifted his fist, the DOs pulled us apart.
Scuffle. Over.
It was pretty damn anticlimactic, if you asked me. Oh well. I followed the boss’s orders. Maybe I should pat myself on the back for not fucking up this part of the plan.
Donut Boy shoved me toward the exit. He smelled like a giant maple bar. I almost gagged, totally disgusted. “Go lock the fuck down. Dumbass pussies name-calling like a couple of girls, trying to make me do paperwork.” He shoved me again.
Another DO did the same to the scrawny prick. This part of Storm’s plan had been easier than I thought. I doubted it would’ve gone like this in Cali. In this joint they were soft and sweet. Probably due to all the donuts they ate.
You are what you eat and I do not eat beans.
My cell came into view. I gotta say, I was relieved to get locked up. No telling what could’ve happened if Whitey and I remained in the same room together. I might’ve looked the other way once, solely to avoid prolonging my stay in this fine establishment, but I wouldn’t take shit from that motherfucking cunt a second time.
“Now, get the fuck in there.” He shoved me again, as if I didn’t know where I was supposed to go. “Fuentes, this door won’t open back up until tomorrow.”
Asshole.
I strutted inside the concrete box and shouted over my shoulder. “Can you bring me a donut? With sprinkles! None of that maple shit. Didn’t get supper.”
The door slammed shut. “You’ll survive. Fucking bikers…” Donut Boy mumbled, waddling away.
