Santa Monica

by Cassidy Lucas

  Zack was pumped after his showdown with Adam, filled with a surge of hope. He was doing what he loved—making the world a better place by helping each of the people below bobbing up and down at his feet like worshippers feeling the Spirit of God take one step forward on their journey to a better self.

  Zack counted to forty as the crowd rose and fell. He was down to five seconds when he saw the side gate to the yard open and a hulking figure step inside the yard, a heavyset man dressed in spandex biker shorts and a neon-yellow tank top. He stood just inside the gate and seemed to be studying the pulsing crowd, looking for someone.

  Zack suddenly recognized the man: it was Trey Leyner. Lindsey’s husband. Captain America. The guy whose nose he’d almost broken on Halloween.

  “Zack, dude, switch it up!” came Shawn’s voice. “They’ve been doing high knees for over a minute.”

  “Toy soldiers!” Zack called out. “Bring your toes to your fingertips, but keep those legs straight. Like this!” He demonstrated the kicks while keeping his eye on Trey Leyner, who was now approaching the group. Surely the guy wouldn’t recognize him—Zack had been wearing a Darth Vader mask, after all. Still, he didn’t like having the racist meathead in the same yard.

  “Zack, wake the fuck up!” hissed Bri.

  “Sorry,” muttered Zack, and then into his mic, “Okay, everybody, up to your feet! See those blue resistance bands on the ground? There’s one for each and every one of you. Grab one and hike it up around your thighs. Then find a partner . . .”

  “Trey, there you are!” yelled Lindsey Leyner. “Finally! Come be my partner, baby!” Zack watched Trey lumber toward his wife. As he waited for the crowd to pair off for the partner exercises, Zack glanced toward the patio and saw Mel leading Lettie into the house, gripping her by the arm.

  “Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, sometimes I get a good feeling,” sang Flo Rida.

  Zack forced himself to focus on the class, on working the crowd, casting them under his spell. But his magic felt inaccessible today. Time usually sped up when he taught, but with Trey Leyner huffing and puffing ten feet away from him, the workout seemed to crawl by.

  After twenty very long minutes, Zack switched to his downtempo playlist.

  “Okay, y’all, time for a commercial break! But don’t get excited, ’cause you’ll be working straight through it. We’re gonna do two full minutes of planking, which is basically a big present to your abs.”

  “Booyah!” Bri screamed, raising a fist in the air—her cropped Eat Pure, Train Filthy tank lifting so it gave the crowd a view of her six-pack.

  “Well,” Zack said, “we know someone is a fan of planking. As Bri’s rock-hard abs will attest!”

  The crowd whooped, but a bit meekly, Zack noticed. Did they seem more fatigued than they should be only halfway through the workout?

  “Alrighty, folks!” he cheered, adding a bit of oomph to his voice, hoping to keep the vibe from deflating. “We’ll start in the classic forearm position. Everybody, check out longtime Color Theory vet Regina in the back, who’ll demonstrate how it’s done.”

  He’d called on Regina partly from habit, partly because he wanted to remind her of her promise to bring his money. Seeing her there, that familiar look of flinty resolve on her sweat-dripping face, had made him decide he did want “the laptop.”

  Hell, he deserved it.

  Without looking at him, Regina dropped into a perfect plank as Adele’s lush voice spilled over the yard.

  “Everyone down on their forearms now,” said Zack. “And don’t move until I tell you to, ya hear?”

  The first notes of Adele’s “Send My Love” blared over the sound system.

  Fifty bodies dropped and hovered parallel to the ground, clearing Zack’s view between the yard and the back of Mel’s house. Only Adam stood on the patio, staring at his phone. Why was the guy even here, Zack wondered, if he wasn’t working out? Just to keep a hostile eye on Zack? Where had Melissa and Lettie gone? It was unlike Lettie to disappear during an event like this—usually she was scurrying around, working nonstop, anticipating her employer’s every need.

  Zack stared hard at the back door while keeping count of the group’s plank time, as if he could will Mel and Lettie to appear, return to the yard. Who knew how long he’d have to wait to be near Mel again after today?

  And then, with forty seconds of planking to go, the back door actually did open. Zack almost gasped into the mic when he saw Andres walk out. His nephew. Zack was even more shocked when Adam looked up from his phone to put a hand on Andres’s shoulder, almost tenderly.

  What the hell? Zack thought.

  What was Andres doing in Mel’s house? Lettie never brought him to events attended by Zack, since it would be a surefire way to expose their siblinghood, as Andres could never hold back from yelling Tío! and leaping into Zack’s arms.

  Then Zack saw the boy was crying. And Adam, that douchebag, was comforting his nephew.

  Zack moved over to Bri, who was crouched beside the half-naked group of twentysomething friends she’d brought with her, imploring them not to let their shaking knees touch the ground. “You got this, bitches!”

  “Yo, Bri,” he said. “Can you take over for a minute? I need to deal with something important.”

  “Right on,” said Bri, bolting up.

  Zack stepped away from the crowd, still suspended in their planks, some panting and groaning, a few mumbling curses under ragged breath, and made his way quickly toward the house.

  Instantly, as if sensing his uncle’s approach, Andres looked up, right at Zack, flinging arrows of pure joy that slammed deep into Zack’s chest.

  “Tío!” Andres yelled and bolted off the patio toward Zack, limping as fast as he could across the long wooden deck. “Hey, Tío Zack!”

  “Aaaaand, child’s pose!” said Bri. “That was a full-freaking-two-minute plank, you animals! You showed up today like mofo gangsters! Breathe easy for a minute and then we’ll crank it up again.”

  The group broke their planks and lifted their heads, just as Andres leapt into Zack’s arms sobbing and sniffling so Zack could barely understand his nephew’s jumbled words. “Tío, help! Someone is here in the house trying to take Mommy away. Miss Melissa is trying to stop them but I’m scared. Come help!”

  “That’s him!” bellowed Trey Leyner, and Zack, clutching Andres’s trembling body, saw Trey Leyner’s beefy finger pointing. “That’s the kid who tried to burgle us! And you.” He jabbed the air toward Zack. “You’re that psycho who attacked me. Lindsey, it’s him! I knew there were illegals living here! I was right. I was right!”

  “Not now!” hissed Lindsey.

  “Why not?” said Trey. “How is it that this low-class gym rat should get away with breaking my goddamn nose? We deserve justice, Linds!”

  “Shut up, Trey!” said Lindsey, her voice cracking. “And he didn’t break it.”

  The crowd began to murmur with discomfort. Zack tightened his arms around Andres and ran toward the house, holding on to the boy for dear life. Promising he would never let go, whispering into his nephew’s wet cheek, “I got you, little man. Your tío won’t let anyone hurt you. Or your mommy.” Hoping he wasn’t giving the boy yet another empty promise.

  He reached the patio and shot past Adam, pulling open the back door with Andres still in his arms.

  “Oh-kay!” yelled Bri. “Let’s take this party to the next level! You came here to burn for Malibu, people, and we about to TURN UP THE HEAT!”

  “Don’t you dare step inside my house!” yelled Adam, but Zack was already inside, blazing down the long hallway lined with pictures.

  “The front door,” Andres said, his voice small and scared. “They’re at the front door.”

  Zack tore through house, nearly tripping over the giant hamster cage, until he reached the foyer, where Mel stood with her arms round Lettie, holding a piece of bright yellow paper, both of them swaying slightly on their feet.

  “What’s going on?” Zack panted.
>
  “Is everything okay?” came a voice from behind him, and he turned to see Regina had followed them into the house, face flushed with sweat.

  Lettie untangled herself from Mel and they both turned to face him. It was the first time he’d seen his sister cry and the tears made her deep brown eyes shine. Mel’s round cheeks were red, like she’d just finished a Color Theory class or, he let himself remember for a second, like she’d just finished climaxing in his arms.

  “Oh, thank God, you have Andres,” said Mel to Zack, as if he were a stranger who’d found a lost child in the mall. The hopelessness swallowed him once again. “Thanks for bringing him in. You can go back outside now. I know you have a class to teach.”

  Was Mel really going to turn him away like he was a stray dog who’d slipped in the back door? Mel, the woman who, as they’d lain naked on how many hotel balconies gazing at the stars, listened so attentively as he’d shared stories of his lonely childhood, and of all the destructive choices he’d made one after another in his desperate search for love?

  “No, let him see,” said Lettie. She took the paper from Mel’s hands and extended it to Zack. He set Andres down.

  “ICE come,” Lettie said softly, her voice quaking. “They find me here, just now. They want to take me away but Miss Melissa convince them not to. They give me this.”

  Zack read the text on the page:

  This Notice to Appear (“NTA”) has been issued to inform you the initiation of removal proceedings against you has begun. You (“LETICIA MENDOZA”) are scheduled for transport to a designated holding facility within 7 days, and will be detained there until the Courts have determined your Eligibility for Deportation to the country where you possess legal citizenship (“MEXICO”). Any minors in your custody (“ANDRES MANUEL MENDOZA” and any others in your legal guardianship) will be placed in the care of an approved guardian until . . .

  Zack stopped reading. “No. Lettie. No, this won’t happen. I won’t let them take you. Or let them take Andres away from you. I prom—”

  “I don’t want to go away!” Andres wailed.

  “Wait, how are you involved?” Regina piped up. She turned to Lettie. “I’ll take care of Andres, Lettie. Don’t worry. He knows our family. He’ll be just fine until we can get this sorted out.”

  Over my dead body, Zack thought. No way would he allow his nephew to sleep a single night under that monster’s roof. Zack wished he could pick Regina up, hoist her over his shoulder, and fling her out the back door.

  “If it happens, it happens,” Lettie whispered, pulling Andres to her. “Shh, caro. You are not going anywhere. Mommy swears it. Pinky swear, yes?” She offered her finger to Andres, and Zack was relieved to see his nephew link his pinky to hers with a small smile, calming down. Lettie looked to Mel, then to Regina, and, finally, at Zack. “Just promise me you will take care of this boy.”

  “We’ll help, too,” said Mel. “Andres is comfortable here. He’s been staying with us for weeks. And it’s been so much fun, hasn’t it, Andres?”

  “He has?” said Zack.

  Mel put a hand on Andres’s shoulder. The boy ducked away and howled, “No! I wanna stay with Tío! Please can I stay with Tío Zack?”

  Zack gathered his nephew into his arms again, his lips pressed to the boy’s gel-stiff hair. Mel flicked her eyes up at Zack, holding his gaze for a beat, and his heart boggled in his chest. Lettie had lowered her face into her hands, and was rocking back and forth in place as Regina slipped an arm around his sister’s trembling back.

  “What?” Mel blinked in confusion. “Tío? Andres, how do you know this guy? How do you know Coach Zack?”

  “What in the hell is going on here?”

  Zack turned to see Adam marching toward them, followed by Trey Leyner, sweat darkening his bright yellow shirt.

  Zack considered running out the tall oak front doors, Andres in his arms. Never looking back.

  “Adam,” said Mel. “Can you give us a minute? We’re dealing with something here.”

  “Oh, are you?” said Adam. Like a sassy little bitch, Zack thought, knowing that if the guy stepped to him now, Zack might actually murder him. “Because we’re dealing with something, too. Namely that your friend Mr. Muscles here assaulted my friend Trey a few months ago. Attacked him on the front steps of his own home. So . . . the situation is, I’d like to ask Coach Zack”—he added a sneer—“to vacate the premises. I don’t care if the workout isn’t over yet. I want him off my property. Now. Or I’m calling the police.”

  “Give me a break, Adam,” said Mel. Saving him, Zack thought, wanting to believe it was motivated by love. “Zack didn’t assault anyone. Stop puffing your chest and marking your territory. We’ve got an actual crisis going on here.”

  “No, Melissa.” Zack’s sister stood up straight and spoke, Lettie’s voice strong and clear. “Mr. Adam is right. Mr. Leyner did get attacked. By me and my brother. But he was being a bad person and so he deserved it.”

  Zack did not move. He felt Andres breathing against him. Felt the eyes of Trey Leyner and Adam Goldberg boring into him.

  “What?” said Regina. “Lettie, you’re confusing us. What brother?”

  “This man.” Lettie pointed to Zack. “Zacarias. He is my brother.”

  The words of St. Thérèse, Little Flower of Jesus, came to Zack now: What a comfort it is, this way of love!

  “What?” Mel blinked. “Lettie, your brother is Zack? How is that possible?”

  Thérèse to Zack: . . . you may stumble on love, you may fail to correspond with grace given . . .

  “Wow, Mel,” said Regina. “Your best friend is related to your boyfriend! What a trip.”

  “Excuse me?” said Adam. “What did you just say, Regina?”

  “She’s a professional liar,” Mel cut in. “Don’t listen to her, Adam.”

  Thérèse to Zack: . . . but whatever offends our Lord is burnt up in its fire . . .

  “I don’t care if they’re married, or brother and sister, or brother and sister who’re fucking,” said Trey Leyner. “They’re a pair of violent hoodlums who should go back to Mexico.”

  “You’re a pig, Trey,” said Regina. “Just like your wife.”

  “How dare you,” said Trey. “I’ll tell Lindsey you said that. You’re like a sister to her, Regina.”

  Thérèse to Zack: . . . nothing is left but a humble, absorbing peace deep down in the heart.

  “Get out of my house,” said Adam, jerking his hand toward Zack. “I don’t care what sort of big revelation is happening right now. I want you out.”

  Lettie looked at Zack and spoke the most beautiful words Zack had ever heard—more beautiful than those by his beloved Saint Thérèse. “Zacarias,” Lettie said. “I mean to say Zack. He is adopting Andres. Making him his son.”

  Zack kissed Andres’s damp forehead and set him down on the shiny wood floor. He leaned toward Lettie and kissed her on the cheek. Right in front of everyone.

  “I love you, Sis,” he said. “We’re going to fix this.”

  Then he flung open the front door and dashed into the front yard and down the path toward the street. He’d just reached the sidewalk when he heard Regina call his name.

  “Wait, Zack! Hang on. Don’t you want your laptop?” She rushed down the walkway toward him, ponytail springing in the sunlight.

  “Burn in hell, Regina,” he said and bolted away from her, into the sparkling morning.

  38

  Leticia

  THE ARMY OF HUNGRY SOLDIERS HAD RETURNED TO HER FAVORITE BOSS Melissa’s backyard.

  Lettie had made the same preparations for Zacarias’s Version Two You! party, which now seemed so long ago. A time of innocence Lettie longed for, when she had believed she might be able to fix her problems. Or be saved, like Blanca Flor, when all hope was lost and the woodsman’s sharp axe lifted above the princess’s pale neck.

  But Lettie was no princess. Melissa’s house no enchanted fairy-tale cottage, though Lettie had enjoyed living t
here those past few weeks, sharing the guest bedroom, which was bigger than their entire apartment, with Andres. And, sadly, Melissa’s big house with its iron gates and stone walls and alarm system whose many buttons glowed red and green in the dark house at night had not been enough to keep Lettie safe. ICE had found her there. The immigration police in their bulletproof vests and ICE jackets had come for her in the middle of the party, pounded angry fists on the front door, shoving the notice of deportation at Lettie like she had done something to hurt them—they looked that angry. How could this be when Lettie had never once laid eyes on these strange men?

  Happiness can only exist in acceptance, she told herself as her family made a wall around her in the Goldbergs’ house, keeping her safe. Melissa and Regina; Zacarias and Andres. A family as mixed-up as the menudo soup her abuela made with the pig parts, intestines and feet, which most people tossed in the garbage.

  In Zacarias’s arms, Andres tightened himself around her brother’s body, gripping even with his ruined leg, as if he would never let go, and Lettie wished she could live in this moment forever. Her son protected by his uncle’s strong arms—she so close she could smell Andres’s little-boy scent: hair gel and peanut butter and sweat. The scent of innocence. Of a life unspoiled.

  “Zacarias,” she began. “I mean to say Zack.” Her brother looked up at her, his white smile as bright as the California sun. “He is adopting Andres. Making him his son.”

  The past was the past. There was only life moving forward, and Lettie would enjoy every minute of the twenty-seven days she had left with Andres, with her family, before the American government shipped her back to Mexico.

  As a little girl, she’d watched the women around her work. Their bodies absorbed blow after blow. Her mother, her abuela, all her aunties and older cousins. Oh, the pain those bodies endured. From the agony of childbirth to their husband’s clenched fists. The back-breaking work that kept a little food on the table and shoes on their children’s feet. She had once watched her mother end a pregnancy, the sharpened tip of a coat hanger dripping blood. Women’s work, she’d learned, was the hardest work there was, and work was what the women she knew did best. Their superpower, as Andres might say, Lettie thought, as she watched her son hug his dear tío Zacarias. Right in front of all her bosses.