The King of Mexico (a work in progress)

         Carlos Gonzales was the 27 year-old mastermind behind a number of muggings and minor burglaries in the greater Phoenix metropolitan area. Carlos was getting tired of selling stolen goods to pawn shops and making the same money as a waiter. Jerome Watkins, although a few years younger than Carlos, was almost twice his size. Jerome even came complete with the lowered eyebrow of a middleweight prize fighter. He was a track star in high school and when he worked, it was usually at a lumber yard where he drove a forklift.

            In the summer heat Carlos rode his bike down to Jerome’s house. Jerome lived in a dilapidated three bedroom house with his mother and little brother, Darius. Carlos knocked hard on the frame of the screen door. Moments later, Jerome’s mother pushed the door open for Carlos and yelled for her son, “Jerome! Your frain’s here!” Carlos walked into Jerome’s room and sat on the bed. Jerome had just gotten out of the shower and was pulling on a gray muscle shirt. “$4,000 for one day’s work.” Jerome turned toward Carlos with an incredulous look spilled across his face. Carlos continued, “For real, dog. I just got done talking to this ese last night. He said $4,000 easy. Alls we gotta do is drive.” Jerome’s eyes began to glaze over. He could already imagine himself driving a mint condition 1964 Impala. He had already stolen the rims for it over 3 months earlier. “What is it? Like a bank job or somethin’?” “Fuck no, homes. We jus’ drive to Mexico, pick up some people and bring ‘em back here.”  Carlos chose his partner wisely. Jerome was always more interested in dollar signs. “I’m gonna do it homes. If you want in, get a car an’ call me tomorrow. Think it over, eh.” Carlos was in a rush to leave. He didn’t want to Puppet waiting.

            Carlos borrowed his mother’s white Hyundai and drove to a grimy house in Buckeye. He parked on the street and approached a yellow house with loud rap music playing in the front yard. The yard was littered with men wearing green bandanas who were unhappy to see Carlos walking down the street. Carlos began to speak before they said a word. “Puppet said I should talk to him. He told me come over.” Los Phantasmos, or “The Phantoms as they were usually called, were notorious for their privacy as well as their violence.  One Phantom pointed to a table where the men played dominoes. The man sat on a lawn chair with his back to the wall. He was Mexican with dark sunglasses sitting just above his eyebrows and a pompadour haircut. Puppet Valdez raised a hand as Carlos approached as if to stop time itself. “Hijo de La Chingada! You Fuckin’ Cheater! Fuck this shit!” Puppet stood up and retrieved a beer from a near-by cooler. Puppet noticed Carlos standing a few feet from him.

“What are you doing here, puto?” Carlos looked down as he spoke, “Richard told me you might need some extra drivers, an’ I thought…” “Yeah, okay fucker. Maybe now you can pay back la feria you lost. Wait here.” Puppet walked into the house. When he returned, instead of a beer, he held a slip of notebook paper. “This is where you pick ‘em up. Ignacio will tell you what to do after that. Bring ‘em back here and we’ll talk about your financial situation.” Carlos got back into his car and noticed that his phone was beeping. He had missed 5 calls from Jerome.

Carlos called Jerome back. “Hullo?” “Hey, why you callin’ me, man?” “Oh, Carlos, hey man, I’ve been thinking about that thing.” “Well, vato? You in or out?” “Yeah I’m down, but where do I get a car from?” “What the fuck do I care, dick? Just make sure you have it by tomorrow morning.” Carlos drove home to get some rest. Tomorrow is payday.

Jerome pulled up to Carlos’ house in a big black Cadillac Escalade with all the chrome available. Carlos was inside putting fresh batteries in a pair of radios he had taken from a Radio Shack burglary a few months before.  Carlos is furious that Jerome would compromise the scheme by bringing a stolen car, much less something as flashy as an escalade. Jerome is easily enraged and points the finger at Carlos “You said you didn’t care where I got my car.” “That was before I realized you’re the stupidest man on the planet.” They resolve their argument and agree to focus on the job.

Early the next morning Carlos and Jerome got into their respective cars and began the long drive to Mexico. They kept in contact via two walkie talkies that Carlos had left over in his apartment from a burglary of a radio shack. They talked about what they would do with their $2,000 and whether they would be paid more to do it again.

Eventually Carlos followed the directions on the slip of paper to a dirt road in the middle of the desert. Jerome’s escalade followed Carlos’ car for 20 miles on a dirt road driving at 20 miles an hour as the instructions said. They arrived at a wooden barn in the middle of the desert. They knocked on the door and a large Mexican man with a small machine gun answered the door. He led Carlos and Jerome through a large room crowded with Mexican men and women and over to a small air conditioned room with a desk and a chair and a well dressed Mexican named Ignasio Villarreal.

Carlos and Jerome stood before Ignasio’s desk as he introduced himself, welcomed the men and explained how this transaction would happen. On the desk sat a radio. Every few minutes it would squawk in Spanish and Ignasio would raise a hand to stop the conversation. The radio would fall silent and he would resume the conversation where they left off. He explained that the men would be shown a path through the desert which would lead them around the border check point and drops them off on the highway 10 miles inside of Arizona. Then, they would have to avoid being seen by the roving I.N.S. agents and police until buckeye. When they arrived in buckeye they would be paid $500 for each adult and $250 for each child. Carlos and Jerome were allowed to take as many people as they wanted and they were allowed to choose who they took but there was a catch: the more people they took, the more suspicious they look. Carlos and Jerome are then told there were far too many patrols right then, so they would have to leave at 6am. Shift change.

Carlos and Jerome were told that there were two cots outside where they could rest. They left Ignasio’s office and found their cots in a corner of the barn. They sat up for almost an hour discussing who they would take with them. They spoke in English so that no one would understand the plans they made. In the night women would come to each of them and offer themselves just so that they would be chosen the next morning.

At dawn another of Ignacio’s men woke Carlos. It was time to go. Shift change was at 6am; less than an hour away. Carlos and Jerome loaded their vehicles. Carlos took 4 people close to his own age so as not to arouse suspicions. Jerome took as many people as he could fit in the vehicle. When he was finished loading he turned to carlos and said “$20,000 for a day’s work.” Carlos thought that taking so many people would slow the escalade down too much and possibly hurt the people. Jerome said he didn’t care as long as they were alive enough for him to collect his money.

Ignacio gave Carlos a walkie talkie. “Here, this will keep you in contact with my people. Remember, as you drive you’ll kick up dust. The faster you drive the more dust you kick up. The slower you drive, the longer it will take to get across. Go as fast as you want, but you only get paid for the ones that make to buckeye.”

Jerome was first. He drove too fast.

“LA MIGRA! LA MIGRA!” The radio is as loud as the voice of god. A wall of white SUV’s with green doors blocked Jerome’s path. Jerome tries to turn around but rolls the escalade. Carlos turns his car around but a white SUV catches up to him in a flash. The SUV pushed hard against the bumper of the dirty white Hyundai. Carlos spins out of control in a cloud of dust. Mexicans running everywhere.. Jerome is nowhere to be seen.. Carlos is caught.

Carlos sat in a small concrete room with a table and two chairs facing a large mirror. His ID was fake and he worried that they would realize who he was and that there was a warrant for his arrest. He felt his heart pounding in his ears and he tapped his foot nervously. Two men walked in and one sat in the chair facing Carlos. The man in the chair said, “We know you were working with another driver. We know he stole that black escalade. We know this was all his idea. We just need you to tell us who he is and we can let you go.” Carlos didn’t say who it was and they dropped him off at a gas station in the middle of the desert.

By now it was late at night and the woman at the gas station would not allow Carlos to come inside. Eventually the woman left and Carlos sat on the concrete until it got very cold. Carlos shivered as he began to hear yelping and howling coming from the The desert was alive and deceptively silent. Carlos pictured himself being chased through the cold desert by a pack of hungry coyotes. Carlos breaks into the store and calls everyone he can think of. Eventually he called his sister, Janet. (If the police came at least he would be safe.)  he sat in the dark on the floor of the mini-mart with a cold bottle of yoo-hoo and a big bag of funyuns.

Dawn was beginning to break when janet arrived at the mini-mart. It was almost 5:30am. the mini-mart opened at 6. Janet yelled and chastised Carlos for 10 minutes before she realized he had fallen asleep in the seat next to her. They arrived at home at about 10am. Carlos got on the phone and was on his way back to mexico by noon.

It was after 7pm when carlos pulled up to the barn. He knocked on the door and who answers? Jerome! “MA NIGGA!” What are you doing here? Waiting for you to come get me.

Ignacio sat across the room and sipped Coca-cola from a glass bottle. “Ju know, if you’re going back to the states, maybe you take some people wee chu and make some money too?”