Business First: An Excerpt from ‘They All Fall Down’
Fiction by Rachel Howzell Hall
I lurched over to the vanity and popped a Valium, and then another Valium to make up for lost time. That’s when I spotted the crystal vase filled with fake roses. I tossed the flowers to the carpet and picked up the vase. A Waterford, the finest crystal in the world. I opened the window, letting in jungle-wet air. The sun sat high against the blue sky and its light glimmered down upon the rich green of the trees and high grass. It was a perfect day for destruction.
I used all of my strength to throw the vase out the window.
The crystal piece sailed high for a moment, catching enough light to form prisms in its belly before landing in a great crash at the start of the thicket.
I heard Eddie gasp, and then I heard his heavy silence.
Soon, footsteps bounded down the hall, then echoed against the hardwood floor in the foyer. The front door slammed.
I closed my eyes and imagined him staring out from the porch, surveying the wilderness with his weapon ready, seeing nothing . . . nothing . . . then . . . that! That’s when I saw him, in real life, race toward the jungle. He stopped before the trail, knelt, and plucked a shard of crystal from the dirt. He peered at that fragment, then looked back at the house.
I ducked beneath the window before he saw me. I rubbed my sweaty palms against my pants as I counted to thirty. At thirty-one, I peeked over the windowsill.
He was now standing with his back to me. Staring . . . staring . . . He tossed the glass to the ground, then raced into the wild.
Now!
I pushed the chaise and armoire away from the door. Held my breath and peeked out from my room. Nothing to my left except Desi’s wonky door still hanging from its hinges. Nothing to my right except Eddie’s grimy Red Sox cap abandoned on the carpet. Shadows crept along the cold walls, and the heavy silence was broken only by my breathing.
Go now!
I didn’t look at the table in the foyer — didn’t want to see which piece would go missing next. Instead, I crept to the kitchen. The Valium was already working like a flatiron that had just smoothed frizzy nerves. And as I crept, I didn’t fret; while I hurried, I wasn’t harried. All good. Just chill. Boom-shaka-laka.
The kitchen smelled like a Nuyorican bodega on an August afternoon. Food Wallace had used to fix a frittata that no one had eaten still sat on the breakfast counter along with Javier’s dinner remains. Ice cubes clattered into the refrigerator’s bucket, and I froze. Had Eddie heard that noise wherever he was?
I had to move now, and so I scurried past the dining room. The stink of chaos and vomit and old fish and death made me gag. As I stepped into the butler’s pantry, my stomach growled — my brain had told it that my eyes were now drifting across cartons of crackers, jars of olives, boxes of cereals, dried noodles, dried beans, and canned broth. So orderly in here. Everything stacked just so. Neat. Sensible. And yet, steps away, bodies, cold bodies.
Business first. Javier’s black duffel bag sat beside a pallet of bottled water.
I pulled at the bag’s zipper with twitchy fingers.
Bam! A gunshot reverberated through the jungle.
What the hell? My heart staggered in my chest for a moment before it was pulled back into its pleasant drugged hug.
He’d be here any minute now.
Which he? Eddie or Wallace?
Didn’t matter. He’d be charging past the saplings, crashing up the porch stairs, banging into the house to find me here . . .
Any minute now.
I rummaged through the duffel bag. Bottles of rum, a baggie of weed, packets of rolling papers, an extra chef’s smock, and a black gun case that looked just like Eddie’s gun case. Yes! I pushed the clasps, and the case opened with a pop.
Oh shit. No . . .
Oh shit.
The gun case was empty.
The gun case couldn’t have been emptier.
No!
Javier had told me . . .
A gat . . . bought off some pendejo . . .
Eddie must have found it and taken it.
For a minute or two, I couldn’t move. I just stooped there in the pantry, staring at that empty gun case. I stood finally, eyes still on Javier’s bag, mind too relaxed, muscles too far from tense. The Valium was doing its job. Maybe taking two wasn’t a good idea.
Disappointment poked at me, but I didn’t freak out. Couldn’t freak out. Medically impossible to freak out.
What now?
Thinking . . . thinking . . .
I still had Eddie’s lousy popgun that I didn’t trust.
Oh, well. If that’s the only weapon I have . . .
Back on my knees, I sorted through Javier’s black bag. I kept the rum and dumped out everything else. I packed bottles of water, mangoes, and skinny loaves of French bread. In went cans of tuna, a jar of mayonnaise, and crostini just in case I needed to hole up again in my bedroom. Then, with Javier’s bag over my shoulder, I backed out of the pantry.
Time to head back to my room.
