The Poe Consequence

by Keith Steinbaum

  Smiling, Kevin held his hand up in a defensive gesture.

  “Don’t be.”

  “All right,” she said, seeming unconvinced. “What is it?”

  Rising from his chair, Kevin took a couple of steps closer. “I like a story with a happy ending,” he said. “That’s what I hope this will be.”

  Veronica backed up a step, squinted her eyes, and stared at Kevin with an unmistakable seriousness.

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  “Now I understand the change in your behavior,” she said angrily. “You’ve been drinking, haven’t you? I can smell it on your breath.”

  Kevin attempted his best disarming smile. “Guilty as charged,” he said.

  “In the middle of the day?”

  He motioned with his hand toward a couple of chairs. “Do you mind if we sit down?”

  “Let’s talk in the office where I tutor Seth,” she said. “Dr. Hobart asked me to file some papers before I go home.”

  Veronica walked ahead of Kevin. As he followed behind her, his eyes luxuriated in a slow, vertical journey up the back of her legs, like two ascending bubbles in a lava lamp. He visualized her naked bronze skin under the blue cotton sweater and black skirt. Kevin took a deep, inaudible breath, and reminded himself to stay cool and remember what he was there for. As they entered the room, Veronica sat at the desk as Kevin walked to the couch near the aquarium. He sat and looked at her while she shuffled through papers.

  “Veronica,” he said, pointing to the couch, “I need you to be here.”

  Picking up a stack with each hand, she looked discouraged. “See all this? Are you sure?”

  “Quite sure,” he replied. Scooting over across the couch, Kevin patted the open cushion. “Please. Sit down.”

  With a slight shrug of her shoulders, Veronica placed the papers back on her desk and advanced toward him. Remaining standing, she looked at Kevin with an annoyed expression.

  “First tell me why you got drunk.”

  “I’m not drunk,” he countered.

  “Then tell me this,” she said. “Are you sober?”

  Kevin looked away for a few uncomfortable moments. “No, I guess not,” he muttered. Fixing his eyes on her again he added, “So I had a drink. Is it really so important to know why?”

  “To me it is, yes,” she replied without hesitation.

  Kevin patted the open seat of the couch again. “Sit down first, okay?” he asked.

  After some apparent misgiving, she relented. “Okay, I’m sitting. Your turn.”

  “The truth? I was nervous about talking with you. I had a couple of drinks after lunch to calm down.”

  “A couple of drinks?” she asked, her eyes widening. “Since when have a couple of drinks been necessary to talk with me, Kevin? That makes me feel uncomfortable.”

  Kevin reached out for her hand. “The last thing in the world I want to do is make you feel uncomfortable,” he told her. “Just hear me out, okay?”

  “Well?” she said, her eyebrows narrowing. “You’ve got my attention.”

  “Veronica,” he said, pausing again to take a quick breath, “when it comes to us, you’ve asked me to wait, to be patient. I think I’ve done a pretty good job. You and I…we both want the best for Seth, of course, but we need to think of ourselves, too. I know it’s a cliché, but life’s too short, you know what I mean? What I’m trying to say is…I think you know how much I care for you. I think about you all the time. But I want more. You won’t even let me kiss you. I’m afraid to put my arm around you. I’ve wondered about it, trying to figure it all out. And I think I know what the problem is. And it shouldn’t be a problem. What I need to ask you is…are you against having a relationship with me because…I’m white?”

  Veronica gasped, staring at him in silence. Kevin didn’t know what to think, recognizing that his comments hung suspended like a flapping kite stuck in a tree. He couldn’t tell whether he should say something more or wait for an answer. He felt dejected and skeptical, figuring the longer she took to reply, the more likely she didn’t share his feelings. Rising from the couch, Kevin walked toward the aquarium, grateful for the excuse to keep his back turned and his attention diverted.

  From somewhere beyond the world of his own thoughts, an unexpected noise infiltrated his consciousness. Kevin lifted his gaze and realized that Veronica elicited a suppressed, breathy kind of sound that he interpreted as laughter. He wheeled around, prepared to defend the integrity of his honesty and courage. But with her face engulfed in trembling hands, Veronica sat sobbing on the couch, rocking back and forth like a holy person in prayer. Kevin went to her side and placed a tentative hand on her arm.

  “Sshhh, everything will be fine,” he whispered, not knowing what else to say. “Calm down, Veronica. Calm down.”

  The violent sobs subsided into an eventual silence. With a few deep breaths Veronica looked at Kevin. Her eyes had turned red and puffy, and her mouth quivered as she spoke.

  “Is that what you think, Kevin?” she asked in a hoarse whisper. “I couldn’t love you because you’re white?”

  “I’m sorry, maybe I was wrong, but…”

  “You’re so wrong!” she blurted, tears reappearing in her eyes. “You have no idea! No idea! You don’t know!”

  “Know what?” he asked, taking her hand and offering a gentle squeeze. “Please, Veronica, tell me. What don’t I know?”

  Several strands of hair had fallen across her face as she stared straight ahead, as if under a hypnotic spell. Her thoughts seemed centered on something agonizing and far away. Kevin asked the same question again.

  “What don’t I know, Veronica?”

  She turned to face him. Several more strands of hair had fallen over her bloodshot eyes. Wanting to see her face, needing to see her face, Kevin reached out to sweep the hair back, drawing a defensive lurch backwards.

  “I only wanted to brush the hair from your face,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not you,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I’m the one who’s sorry.” The tears spilled again. “I’m sorry for everything.”

  “I thought I had it all figured out,” he said. “Whatever it is, I feel so stupid. I just didn’t know what to think.”

  “I’m…afraid,” she said in a near whisper.

  “Afraid?” he repeated. “Of what? Me?”

  “Of love,” she said. “I’m afraid…to love you.”

  “But why?” he asked, his eyes clinging to hers. “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s like what you said before, Kevin. I haven’t even let you kiss me. If you only knew how much I want to kiss you. But I’m afraid to be…to be…”

  “Afraid to be what, Veronica? What?”

  “To be touched by a man!” she wailed. “by…you!”

  Kevin watched in silence as Veronica turned away, staring at the floor. “How can I forget that night?” she asked aloud, her voice sounding cold and measured. “They forced me. I was so afraid! So much…pain.” Veronica covered her face and broke down again.

  “Tell me everything that happened, Veronica,” he said, dread spreading in his gut. “I want to know.”

  Veronica swallowed hard. Grabbing his hand, she squeezed with enough force to cause the tips of his fingers to go red. “They raped me.” She looked into his eyes, laboring to continue. “Their names were Viper…and Miguel. King. That’s what Miguel told me to call him after he hit me. King.” Kevin kept his eyes on hers, his sadness struggling to suppress his rage. “They made me drink…and do things, she said, trembling. That’s why I was angry with you when you came back here. The alcohol on your breath. I was reminded of…”

  Kevin held up his hand to stop her. He knew what she was going to say; he just couldn’t bear to hear her say it.

  “Can you ever forgive me?” he asked in a quiet voice. “I promise I’ll quit. I would never do anything to hurt you. You know that, don’t you?”

  She nodded her head.

  “I know
I’m telling you something you already know, but there are places for rape victims to go for help.”

  “I couldn’t talk about it,” she answered, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper. “I was so ashamed. I just wanted to graduate from school. Move away and find a job somewhere. I couldn’t even say the word.”

  “So you never went to the police?”

  Veronica closed her eyes, shaking her head back and forth. “They said if I ever told anyone they’d hurt Alex. And they’d do something terrible to my friend, Patricia. My mother is the only person who knows.” She looked deep into his eyes. “I grew up in a rough neighborhood, Kevin. Where I come from, revenge is a way of life. Alex was raised on those beliefs. If I had told him he wouldn’t have stopped until he found them and killed them both. Nothing else would have been good enough. And I don’t want my brother going to prison. Or worse. That’s why I don’t want him to know.”

  “Is Alex in a gang?” he asked.

  Veronica took a long, slow breath. Avoiding his eyes, she looked down at the floor again. “Yes,” she answered. “The Alvarado Street Diablos.”

  Kevin closed his eyes. He loved her too much to turn back now.

  “Small world,” he replied, his voice low and tight.

  “If you leave right now and never come back, I’ll understand,” she told him.

  Kevin placed his hands on each side of Veronica’s head, as gentle a touch as he could summon. Bringing his face to hers, he kissed her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere,” he replied. “You mean more to me than any woman I’ve ever known. The only thing I’m in a rush to do is make you happy. I’ll do whatever it takes, as long as it takes. I want to be the man that teaches you how to trust again. I want to be the man you learn to love.”

  He reached out for her, and she, in turn, wrapped her arms around his back with her head pressed against his chest. They held that position for a long while, soothed in silence, as he gazed out the window with a newfound purpose. As the dimming light signaled the end of another day, Kevin saw the sparkling prospects of a new horizon.

  But storms can strike without warning.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  King couldn’t believe his good luck. A few days before, his depression gripped him by the balls, leaving him angry and without hope. Those feelings seemed far away now. He had been overdue for a change in fortune, and now Lady Luck seemed to be stroking his dick more and more each day. Fate started to turn his way when he finally discovered the one responsible for arranging Viper’s death. Killing Alejandro Torres would not only honor Viper’s memory, but also deliver payback from the time that asshole tackled him on the sidewalk and left him with the wrinkled scar drooping over his left eye. Now, sitting on the couch in King’s apartment, a gang-banger wannabe named Javier presented him with the perfect news about his old neighbor.

  “I live a block from Alejandro’s house,” he said to King. “My mother talks with his sometimes. She told me he’s always fixin’ up cars in his driveway. He fixed my mother’s, too.”

  King stared at Javier in silence, sizing him up. “You lookin’ to bang with the Lobos, little man?”

  Javier nodded. “Yeah,” he replied. “That’s what I been tellin’ Luis.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Thirteen,” he answered. “But I’m not too young, man. I’m tough. I don’t take shit. I’m ready to be a Lobo.”

  King laughed. “A bad-ass, huh? You wanna beer, bad-ass?”

  Javier smiled and looked over at Luis, sitting on King’s bed. “You’re right, Luis. Your brother’s cool.”

  Luis returned with three cold Budweisers, handing cans to Javier and King and keeping one for himself. King downed almost half of his before resuming his conversation. “Understand somethin’,” he said, speaking with an intensity he didn’t show earlier. “It don’t matter how fuckin’ old you are. A thirteen-year-old bangin’ with the Lobos gotta be ready to fight to the death if that’s what it takes. Are you tough enough, Javier? To be jumped into the gang?”

  Javier gave King a puzzled look, “What’s ‘jumped into the gang’ mean?”

  “You gotta be tested, man,” King snapped. “Beat on, you understand? You got the cojones, Javier? You think your thirteen-year old balls are big enough to deal with that shit?

  Javier nibbled on his lower lip, glancing at Luis before looking back toward King. “Yeah, man. I’m down.”

  King smiled. “You gonna do what I ask?”

  Javier cradled the beer can with both hands. Without saying anything at first, he took a few swallows and then wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “I wanna be a Lobo,” he said. “What do you want me to do?”

  King figured what Javier lacked in street cred, he made up for in his desire to please. And he lived near Torres. That crucial part of the plan meant King found the small trap he needed. The time had come to catch the rat. Then he’d blow him away.

  “You know anything about cars, Javier? How to fix somethin’?”

  “I helped my mom change a tire once,” he said.

  “You ever talk to Torres?”

  “No,” he replied. “But I met him the day my mom got her car back.”

  King rubbed his hands together. Swigging the rest of his beer, he produced a loud belch and brought his face close to Javier’s. “Listen to me good, goddammit” he said. “If you do what I tell you, give me the fuckin’ information I need, you’ll be bangin’ with the Lobos real soon. But if you fuck up, man, you better run the other way any time you see one of us comin’. You understand the game, bad-ass?”

  Javier took another sip of beer before giving King a slow nod of his head.

  “Good,” King said. “Now listen to me. Go to their house. Ask Torres to teach you ‘bout fixin’ cars and shit. Offer to fetch his tools, or clean ‘em, whatever the fuck it takes to stick around. Just get him to trust you, got it?”

  “Is that it?” Javier asked.

  “Shut up, asshole, I ain’t finished,” King snapped. “When you become his little assistant, you’ll report back to me every fuckin’ time you know he’s workin’ on a car.”

  “What are you gonna do?” Javier asked.

  “That ain’t your fuckin’ business, you little punk! Don’t go askin’ me shit, understand? You wanna be a North Rampart Lobo or no? Huh? Huh?”

  Javier looked down, avoiding King’s stare. “I’m sorry, King. Don’t be mad, okay?”

  King glared at Javier. “I gotta know if you’re serious ‘bout becomin’ a Lobo, man. This is fuckin’ important to me. You gonna represent or what?”

  “Fuck, yeah,” Javier replied, a rapid nod of his head. “I’ll do whatever you want, King.”

  “Goddamn good answer, little man,” King said, breaking into a smile. “Time for another beer.”

  King told Ram about Javier later that day.

  “Little shit’s gonna do everything I tell him to do,” he said. “Our time’s comin’, man. Gonna be some sweet fireworks when I start shootin’ that Diablo’s ass.”

  “That’s cool, King,” Ram said, his voice subdued.

  “What the fuck’s the matter with you, man? Fun and games are almost here again and you sound like you don’t give a shit.”

  “There’s talk of a truce with the Diablos, he told him. “Until this shit blows over.”

  “Truce, my ass!” King roared. “I don’t wanna hear that shit from you, man! Not when we’re so close!”

  “Some of us are wonderin’ what’s the point, you know? Some motherfucker wants both gangs dead and we’re just helpin’ him get there faster.”

  King’s anger made him want to reach through the phone and wrap his hands around Ram’s neck. “You gave me your goddamn word, Ram! Don’t back down now! I need you at the fuckin’ wheel, you understand me?”

  Ram remained silent for several moments. “All right,” he said. “I told you I would so I’ll be there.”

  “Gracias, vato, “King replied, his tone calm again. “You ain’t t
he only one gave his word, okay? I promised Viper payback when he died, man. Shouted it to the goddamn skies. This whole time he’s been up there waitin’ for his homeboy to do right.” King took a deep breath. “He’s waited long enough.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  “Javier, remember what the filter wrench looks like?”

  “The one with the loop on the end, right?”

  “Yeah. Bring it over here. I’ll show you how to change the oil.”

  Three weeks had passed since Javier first approached Face as he worked on a car in his driveway. “You’re Alejandro Torres, right?” he said. “My name’s Javier Ramos. You worked on my mom’s car. Olivia Ramos, remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember,” he replied, glancing at Javier from the open hood before resuming his inspection of the engine. “Transmission flush. New drive belt. Why? More problems?”

  “No, no, nothin’ like that,” Javier said, taking a couple of steps closer. “I was just wondering if you could show me how to fix cars like you do.”

  “You gonna pay me?” Alejandro asked, his gaze still fixed on the engine.

  “I ain’t got no money, man,” Javier replied. “But I could be your helper.”

  “I don’t need no fuckin’ helper.”

  “Look at your tools,” Javier said. “You got ‘em all over your driveway. I could fetch ‘em for you when you need ‘em. Clean ‘em too, if you want.”

  The kid’s offer got Face’s attention, and as he rolled the idea around in his head, he turned away from the engine, reached up to close the hood, and grabbed the remains of a torn tee shirt. He stared at Javier, unsure about the idea of having the kid ask a million questions as he worked.

  “I get paid for workin’ on these cars,” he said, wiping the grease from his hands. “I ain’t got time to waste teachin’ you shit.”

  “But I could save you time, right?” Javier said. “I’ve seen you work before. You’re always lookin’ around on the ground, trying to find somethin’. I could help you go faster.”

  “Come back tomorrow,” he told him. “I’ll try you for a day and then I’ll decide.”