by Kirk Alex
“Stay out of this, Rudy.”
Yolanda stepped away from the door. The other sisters followed suit. Rudy was not far behind them as they crossed the street to their station wagon. He was not about to relent. To hell with it. It annoyed him that Yolanda would have the nerve to behave in this manner. It’s to be expected, Rudy. That’s right. She’d treated Roe the same way. You saw the way she dumped on him and walked away, didn’t you? The way the whole Duarte family had ganged up on his brother.
They were doing it to him now, and they were putting pressure on Olivia, pulling her strings just like a marionette. Who the hell were they to tell him how to live his life? What the hell was the matter with being a car mechanic? That had been his dad’s whole life before he’d died. Cars. He’d worked on cars and supported his family that way. His mother had been happy with that. Had seen no problem at all. Grandpa had had his own garage down in TJ, raised his family on the money he made. What the hell was the matter with everybody in this crazy town?
Olivia’s parents were a couple of high school teachers—so what was so great about that? Teachers didn’t make great money. Mechanics made more money than teachers—at least the good mechanics did. A good mechanic made decent money. Damned right.
“What are you going to do? Talk behind my back?” He slipped into an effeminate-sounding voice, wringing his hands and shaking his head in mock hopelessness. “That Rudy Perez ain’t nothing but a high school dropout. He just ain’t good enough.”
“It’s a fact, isn’t it? You are a dropout—and quite possibly illiterate.”
Rudy dropped the falsetto. He was through kidding around with this bitch.
“Illiterate? I got As and Bs in school. You call that illiterate? Ever heard of Dostoevsky? Read ’em. Charles Dickens? Read him. Henry Miller? Read ’em. Even Shakespeare. Read enough of him to know he ain’t all that. Ever heard of Gabriel Garcia Márquez? You might have. One Thousand Years of Solitude? Read the whole damned thing in a week. Leslie Marmon Silko? Read her Ceremony and The Turquoise Ledge both. Ooh. There. Who’s the real dummy? Guess what else? Nobody forced me to look these peeps up, either. Found them on my own just because I enjoy reading and I like to fill myself with knowledge. Period. Knowledge is education; education is information and how we behave and treat others, is it not? I talk the way I do sometimes to put people like you on—only you’re the one not bright enough to get it. Get it? No, you ‘ain’t’ got it.”
Yolanda’s sisters had climbed in the station wagon. She got in herself and slammed the door shut. Made certain the window was all the way up.
Rudy stood in front of the grill and was not about to let her go anywhere until he’d had his say. There was a car parked in back of her and no way for Yolanda to pull out of the spot.
“Know what, Yolanda? I wasn’t about to let you get to me. Only right now I don’t really care what you think. Me and my brother worked hard to keep our grandparents out of the poor house. Had to bust our butts. That don’t account for much with your family, does it? You can all go to hell. My brother had to quit college and go to work to keep the bank from taking the house. We’re not asking for pity; we do all right. We get by. We got plans to open our own shop and that’s what we’re going to do, and if that isn’t good enough for your family, that’s just too bad. I got nothing at all against higher learning—only right now we need money. If later on I feel like taking some night classes to improve my education, that’s my business and nobody is going to force me. Especially not you, Yolanda. Tell that to your daddy.”
Yolanda sat shaking her head and could not believe that Olivia would want to be involved with somebody like this. Olivia was concerned, too, now that it would all get back to their parents. It would do nothing but create more tension at home, more pressure to stop seeing Rudy Perez.
Monroe pulled up in his beat-up pickup truck. Swung it into his family’s driveway and got out with a six-pack that he carried in a paper sack.
He crossed the street to the station wagon. Tugged Rudy away from the front of it, not that he had to apply any real force; gentle persuasion did the trick. Rudy had been prepared to relent on his own at this point anyway.
“Take it easy, will you, kid?” All the while Roe did his best not to look in Yolanda’s direction. He was not going to look at her. It hurt enough just being so close. Could not stop himself entirely from merely stealing a glance, nothing more than a glance. All it did was bring back the pain. So damned fast, too. Just a quick look. That one look.
How long has it been now? Close to three years? Close to three years later and she still did that to him by showing her face.
Yolanda’s response was a hard glare. She started the engine and stepped on the accelerator. Tires squealed and the station wagon took off down the street. Roe’s eyes stayed on her. Watched as the station wagon turned a corner at the end of the block, and she was gone.
“Why does she have to come around here? Why? Why can’t she stay away?” Roe was looking at his brother. “I don’t go by their place, do I? I’m the guy who was told to stay away. ‘Keep away from our daughter.’ And I have been. Only she keeps finding excuses to come around here. Goddamned women. They know it’s these little things, man, that get you, that tear your insides up.”
CHAPTER 138
He walked Rudy back to the house. They entered through the side entrance, stepping into the kitchen. Sat at the table.
“I do okay. That’s a fact, Rudy. I do just fine—as long as my eyes don’t see that woman, long as I don’t get to look at that beautiful face with a heart of cement.” Roe came close to cursing. Wouldn’t do it around the house. Out of respect for the grandparents. Rudy was the same. Never claimed to be perfect, either. You respected your elders and people you loved. “That’s what a woman like that has—heart of stone. Cement, man. A rock.”
He reached inside the paper sack for a beer and placed it in front of his brother. Dug back in for a can for himself. Cracked the top. Had a pull.
“You think I’m stupid?”
“No way. She say you’re illiterate? That’s one of her favorites. If you don’t have a university degree you’re a bozo with room temperature IQ. She was always correcting my grammar. Screw ’em. I talk the way I talk because the guys at the shop talk this way. If I threw fifty dollar words at them I’d be accused of being a blowhard and a pompous jerk—and they’d be right. Guys who are sticklers when it comes to grammar are usually sissies, anyway. Can’t get it up. Bookworms. Dorks. Well, not all. Usually. Present company excluded. She’ll find out. You’re not stupid, Rudy. Fact is, you’re pretty smart. You’re a mechanic. Well, you know about as much as a certified mechanic. Come pretty close. That takes intelligence. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”
Rudy cracked the ring on his beer. Took a pull.
“Ever have regrets you dropped out of college, Roe?”
Monroe got up to grab a bag of spicy hot chips from the cupboard, and sat back down. He tore the top off.
“No. Why should I? Besides, had no choice. I like working with my hands, getting into the grease and dirt. Some folks are put off by it, repulsed. Not me. Not Dad, either. Rest his soul. I like working for a living, as opposed to having to wear a prissy, starched white shirt and a tie to some office job and dealing with office politics and backstabbers.”
He held the bag of chips out for his brother to take a few. Stuck a chip in his own mouth. Swallowed beer.
“Look, you’re going back for your GED eventually. That’s a given. That you want to do. I’m not pushing; I know how stubborn you can be. Just telling you. As far as college: Up to you. Try it. If you want. Find out for yourself. Because you want to—and not because some chick is after you to do it in order to bring the big paycheck home so she can have more pesos to squander. Government’s no different: the more they tax, the more they spend. Always going broke, always crying for more.”
Rudy cracked a smile. Roe was glad he was at least able to do that.
“Think I’m kidding? The way it is. The more you bring in, the more they spend.” He shook his head. Irritated by all of it. Life in SoCal. “People like the Duartes always have to make it look like you’re nothing if you’re blue collar. It’s BS. Be proud of your blue collar roots, I always say. Like Dad. May he rest in peace. Where would we all be without someone to repair cars, build houses, fix the plumbing, pave driveways, trim trees, stock supermarket shelves, deliver bread to delis, operate street sweepers, repair traffic lights and fill pot holes?” He ate a chip. Pulled from his can. “The other thing is: Your biggest thieves have always been white collar S.O.Bs. Remember that. It’s cliche. Well worth repeating. We forget too often. The most destructive lowlifes, ones who hurt all of us more than any other type of criminal—have always been white collar weasels.”
Rudy nodded his head. Knew his brother was telling it like it is. Gave him the truth. Still. There was the ache in his heart to be dealt with.
“I can’t help it. I love her, Roe—even though she’s trying to walk all over me.”
“They will do it every time—if you let them.”
“I get sick and tired of her and her family trying to change me. What are we supposed to do? Let Grandma and Grandpa stay in some roach-infested rest home after everything they’ve done for us? Why can’t they understand?”
“Don’t worry about it. That’s exactly why things didn’t work out between Landa and me. Too much pressure. Always pushing. Her folks were always saying she should be marrying a ‘professional man,’ white collar type: doctor, lawyer; ‘somebody important.’ Hell, doctors and lawyers are some of the most corrupt people out there. Six, seven hundred dollars just to have your teeth cleaned. Step into a dental office to have your teeth cleaned, just to have them cleaned. I guarantee you you won’t be in that chair two minutes before he tries to convince you to have thousands of dollars worth of dental work done. Corruption. That’s what I’m talking about. White collar crime. Crooked politicians and doctors who are nothing more than butchers in disguise. Doing open-heart surgery on people who don’t even need it. That is the God’s truth. Lookit that poor SOB Harold Crust. They stuck a pacemaker in him even though he didn’t need one. Had a great insurance policy at the time, so they talked him into it and cut him open.”
“Are you serious about Mr. Crust?”
“Hell, yes. Think I’m saying all this just to hear myself talk? Some coked-up Beverly Hills quack not only conned him to have the open-heart surgery, but later on managed to convince him he needed a pacemaker on top. I found out the other day. Mr. Crust tries to keep it under wraps. Too embarrassed to admit he was hoodwinked. Wasn’t his fault. Who can blame him? He’s not the only one it was done to. Happens all the time.”
“Why didn’t he get a second opinion? Dad always said to get a second opinion.”
Roe had another pull of beer. Ran the back of his hand back and forth across his mouth. “He did get a second opinion. After the butcher cut him open. Poor guy thought he was on his last gasp and had no choice. Found out later that this doctor he trusted had left him on the operating table in the middle of surgery to make a run to his bank across the street to cash a check, then zips on over to his dealer’s on Burton Way to score blow. Far-fetched? Don’t think it happens? It happens. “
“During surgery?”
“What I’m saying.”
“How can they?”
“Had abdominal pains long after the surgery was over and done with. Didn’t figure. Harold did some nosing around, probing; asked questions. Found out the same quack had vomited on another patient.”
“You’re making me sick.”
“Wait a minute. They told him to go away. It was all in his head. Mr. Crust got himself legal help. Forced the hospital to X-ray his chest. Guess what they discovered in there?”
“Wristwatch?”
“Not even close. Dentures.”
“That’s really disgusting.”
“It’s more than that: It’s unconscionable. Quack was so high he wasn’t even aware that his teeth were missing, until he got home that evening and his wife pointed it out to him.”
“His wife did?”
“Was a druggie herself. User.”
“Same doctor who operated on Harold?”
“One and the same. Looked into his history. He’d been leaving things like gauze and tweezers, towels, guide wires in patients’ necks, pelvises, abdomens.”
“What kind of doctor does that? I hope he got busted.”
“Oh, he’s through. Finished. Harold has a lawsuit going against the hospital. White Collar Crime. Bad Apples. Don’t misunderstand: Not saying all doctors are like that, just like not all car repair shops are on the up-and-up. Some are downright sleazy, cutthroat. Got rotten apples in every field. But generally speaking: White collar law-breakers get away with a lot more than anyone else. Haven’t even touched on arms dealers and pharmaceutical corporations—and don’t want to go there. White collar. You try and explain that to the Duartes. They don’t want to hear it. What they want is someone with ‘class’ for their perfect girls. The white collar and the three-piece suit. ‘Breeding.’ Whatever that means. I have a three-piece suit somewhere around here. Only wear it when I have to. I don’t mind dressing up when the occasion calls for it. But to wear a suit and tie as some kind of disguise to get over, like so many of them out there? Forget it. Not interested. They aren’t fooling me.”
“I never stepped out on that girl, Roe. Not once in the time I’ve known her. I hardly even flirt with other chicks I see out there. I treat her right. Always treat her right.”
“I know that. You don’t have to convince me. I wouldn’t blame Livia so much. It’s her family, friends, putting ideas in her head. People are like that. Always jealous when you got a good thing going and they don’t.”
“You’re probably right. Only I can’t take much more. I don’t deserve it.”
“Hey, you’re damned right you don’t deserve it.”
Roe drained his can. Cracked open another. Took a long pull. “My advice is bail while you’re still in one piece.” He looked at his brother. Rudy wasn’t saying anything at the moment. On the verge of tears more than likely.
“Easier said than done.” Roe thought he ought to say something uplifting at this point. Hated to see Rudy suffer this way. “Who knows? She might even come around when she finally realizes that my kid brother is just too good to pass up.”
“You think it’s possible?”
“With women you never know. Anything is possible. She might say to hell with what her family wants and decide for herself. Never know. You have to cheer up.”
Rudy nodded his head. Felt that the older sibling was right about quite a bit of it. He walked to his room in the back to get the thing he’d been working on for close to a week now. It was only a cardboard sign presently and he’d used crayons and magic marker, but it would give Monroe a pretty good idea what the finished, professionally made sign would finally look like—if he liked it.
Rudy reappeared with it in the living room and held it in such a way so that Roe could not see what the words were. Flipped it, revealing the front that read:
GIL PEREZ & SONS
AUTO REPAIR & BODY WORK
The younger brother couldn’t help it, and glanced at the mantle above the fireplace and the framed photos that lined it. Some of the photos were of their parents taken years before at their wedding, others were of aunts and uncles, cousins; others still of their dad, former marine, looking sharp and handsome in his Dress Blues. Next to this one was a picture of Roe: Like their dad, in his Marine uniform.
There were a couple of snapshots of their dad in Vietnam standing beside a Jeep he had been working on in the company motor pool, another of their father and his unit, along with the commanding officer, standing outside the barracks.
“Dad’s name’s gotta be part of the sign.”
Monroe slapped his hands together.
“You’re definitely on the
right track now, Bro. Exactly what I’m talking about. We can’t lose sight of our dream—and the Duarte sisters are not getting in our way.”
The grandparents stirred in their rocking chairs. Grandfather Neto had his handkerchief out and blew his nose.
“What do you think, Grandpa? Gil Perez & Sons.”
The silver-haired old guy looked at the sign for a moment. Clearly moved by the gesture. He approved with a wink.
“Bueno, Rudy. Bueno.”
“We’re on our way. Just a while longer—you’ll see—before we start raking in the bucks.”
“Nobody is stopping us, Rudy. Remember that. Nobody.”
CHAPTER 139
Diner facade was a faux railroad coach and faced a vast parking lot with scores of shops and a variety of businesses on either side. To the left, on commercial real estate about the length of a city block, were a supermarket, video store, baby shop, florist, toy store, weight gym, et al. On the right: among others, music store, futon retailer, pet shop, hair salon, stationary store, insurance office, kosher market, and a tanning salon, where a tan was the last thing anyone who entered here was after. It was known to more than a few regulars of the diner: If you yearned to have your “manhood massaged” after consuming one of Jessup’s famous omelettes, Foxy’s Health Spa & Tanning Salon was the place to go—and that Mr. Vester Jessup, although silent about it, owned controlling interest.
Sun was setting. Deacon Marvin R. Muck and Bishop Cecil O. Biggs were sitting in the latter’s Cadillac that idled in the lot where the duo had a good, clear view of the eatery’s front entrance and could see Rudy Perez sitting at the counter trying to make time with the Duarte bitch.
Let him, thought Biggs. He won’t get anywhere. Too soft. Feckless. There was a bright red neon sign in the window to the right of the door that was meant to remind one and all that it was TIME TO EAT!
Cecil’s mind was not on food or eating, but the narrow street to the left of the railroad car—on the other side of which were located all those other shops. It was that street that ran through there for about two hundred or so feet to the main drag that was a concern, should he ever be tempted to snatch Olivia Duarte right there in the diner. You also had the added problem: the very same street crossed the alley in back of the diner and ran the entire length of the mall on the left, as well as on the right, where it ended at a relatively busy boulevard.