Grizz
2001, Fort Lauderdale
It had been four days since Ginny had been in his home. She’d not come back or tried to call. He let her have her space as he waited.
It was now Tuesday morning. Grizz came out of the convenience store, barely paying attention to his surroundings when he heard a loud voice coming from near his work truck. His landscaping crew had finished up an early morning job and decided to make a pit stop for some ice before heading to the next one. Grizz had run into the store to grab some Hershey’s Kisses, his most recent and only vice. Well, his other vice. His first one was and always would be Ginny.
“You need to take your sorry, Spanish-speaking asses back across the water where you belong. First, you take our jobs, and now you’re trying to turn Fort Lauderdale into Cuba? Isn’t it bad enough you already took over Miami? You gotta come up here, too?”
Grizz slowed and surveyed the scene. He hadn’t been spotted yet, and he listened as the crew foreman, Carlos, tried to explain in broken English that they didn’t want any trouble and would be leaving as soon as the rest of his men came out of the store. Grizz liked Carlos. He was mild-mannered and worked hard for Anthony, ensuring that his crew did, too. He watched as the source of the accusations stepped closer to Carlos, his spit spraying as he continued his tirade.
“Well, sorry ain’t good enough, amigo. You think sorry is good enough, Rick?”
Grizz noticed another man then, leaning up against a beat up truck, arms crossed and a toothpick sticking out of his mouth.
“Nah, Jesse,” he drawled. “I think they need to do more than apologize for tarnishing the good old U.S. of A. by trying to replace the English language.”
Grizz didn’t know what Jesse and his ugly friend Rick had in mind, but he’d seen enough. He shoved his bag off Kisses into his back pocket and walked up behind the man who was in Carlos’s face. The one named Jesse. He grabbed him roughly by the back of the neck and, squeezing, said in a low voice, “I think you owe my friend, Carlos, an apology.”
Jesse’s eyes widened and his posture straightened as the pressure on his neck hardened. He was being held so tightly he couldn’t turn his head to see who had grabbed him, but he could see his friend, Rick, jump to attention and quickly get in the passenger side of their truck.
Grizz noticed the movement, too, and looked over at the man.
“Don’t you think he owes Carlos an apology, Rick?” Grizz growled.
Rick’s response was to nod and roll up the truck’s window.
“Just having some fun. Didn’t mean anything by it,” Jesse choked out.
Carlos started telling Grizz he was okay and there was no harm done, that they should be leaving. The other men on the landscape crew had already loaded up. Three of them in the back seat of the truck and three more in the bed of the pickup. They stared in awestruck silence as the big quiet man, who’d joined their crew all those months ago, showed a side they hadn’t seen.
“You still haven’t apologized,” Grizz told him.
“Sorry. Sorry, uh, Carlos. Sorry, man,” Jesse said with a squeak.
Grizz shoved him toward his own truck and watched as he walked around the back of it. Jesse’s dog, a white Pit Bull with brown markings, had been watching from the bed of the pickup. As Jesse passed him, Grizz heard him say, “You useless piece of shit-for-brains dog. Could’ve used some help back there, Rocky.”
He punched the dog right in the side of the head.
Before Jesse reached the driver’s door, Grizz had him by the back of the head, this time smashing his face hard into the side view mirror, breaking his nose. The crunch was loud, and Grizz heard the collective gasps from the landscape crew as they watched from their heightened perch in the bed of Carlos’s work truck.
Jesse collapsed and began to cry as he cradled his broken and bloodied nose. Bullies are the worst crybabies ever, Grizz smirked. He headed to the back of Jesse’s truck and yelled over his shoulder, “I’m taking your dog.”
On the drive over to their next job, Carlos did his best to explain that he and his men had done nothing wrong. They had just been standing by the truck waiting for Grizz and two other men to come out of the store when Jesse and his friend Rick pulled up. Apparently, Jesse and Rick had been offended because the crew was talking in Spanish. It didn’t happen a lot, but Carlos confided to Grizz that there was definitely some resentment and animosity, especially as South Florida’s Hispanic community grew and expanded farther north from Miami.
Grizz knew Carlos and his guys hadn’t done anything to incite the two men. They were bullies looking for a fight. Guess they picked the wrong people to taunt that day. Not to mention, there were only two of them and at least four of Carlos’s crew who’d been standing there. They were counting on them not being legal immigrants and therefore submitting to the intimidation.
Grizz sat in the front passenger seat, his left hand absently stroking the back of Rocky’s neck. The dog sat quietly between the two men.
“I’ll have to tell Anthony today that I’ll be quitting,” he told Carlos. What he didn't mention was that going into the convenience store had been stupid. He should've stayed in the truck like he'd been doing and let one of the guys buy what he wanted. He was getting too comfortable and familiar and it was dangerous. He needed to reel himself back and stay alert.
Carlos looked over at him from the driver’s seat, his eyes wide. “No. No, James. It’s okay. We don’t say anything to Mr. Anthony. He won’t know.” His English was broken and his accent was thick, but his voice was laced with sincerity.
Grizz didn’t say anything. He knew he’d taken his retaliation too far. He hadn’t intended to, but seeing Jesse abuse the dog crawled too far under his skin. He always was a sucker for a helpless animal. Should Jesse report the abuse and the stolen animal, it would bring the authorities to Anthony’s door. The name of his landscaping company was advertised on the sides of the work truck. Stupid fool. He would let Anthony know before the end of the day.
They had arrived at the next job and were unloading their equipment when his cell phone buzzed. He wasn’t used to getting calls. What if the incident had already been reported and Anthony had been contacted? Shit.
He squinted in the bright morning sun and immediately recognized the number. Not because he was used to seeing it, but because he’d memorized it in the event it was used to call him.
It was Ginny.
He walked away from the other men, Rocky at his heels.
“What’s up, baby? You okay?”
“Oh, Grizz,” she cried into the phone. He could tell she was upset.
He stopped and stiffened as she told him what had happened.
“I want to get my children,” she cried. “I need to go to their schools and get them. I just want them near me.”
He understood.
“Listen,” he replied calmly. “I’ll get a ride back to the yard and get my car. You get the kids and stop by the store. Get some sandwiches and drinks and bring them to my house. I would do it, but I don’t know what they like. It’ll be okay. I’ll be waiting there for you, honey.”
"Okay," she whispered, her voice shaking.
"Baby, listen, can you do me a favor?" he asked before she hung up.
"Yeah. Sure," she replied.
"Will you bring your guitar?"
He closed the phone and stared down at Rocky. The dog looked up at him with soulful deep eyes.
“C’mon, boy. Time to meet your new family. And if there is a God, then maybe one day they’ll be my family, too.”