by Cheryl Wyatt
She stuck her face in her suitcase that he’d finally decided had to be a purse. She plunged both hands in and dug around. He didn’t know how she found anything in it.
Trembling fists surfaced, clutching something. “I need to know if this is what I think it is before I rush in there and decapitate my son with my bare hands for trampling on his father’s grave with a betrayal like this.” She opened her hands.
His heart gave a thud of dread at the sight of the pot pipe. He reached for it, careful not to brush her hand, though his fingers longed to impart strength and reassurance. “Where’d you find it?”
“It fell out of a shoe box in his closet.” Her voice quivered.
He turned the pipe over. “What else did you find?”
Her shoulders slumped. “I didn’t look. I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly when I found it.”
“I understand.” Manny did a gentle bounce with his hand, weighing the object and its implications.
Celia squared her shoulders. “You think it’s a meth pipe?”
“Nope. Purely for marijuana.” Boy, how could you put your mother through this heartache? How’d you get mixed up with this crowd? Especially after one of them murdered your father?
Unless…
Something hit Manny. He didn’t like the direction of his thoughts. Surely Javier would be smart enough not to try to exact revenge on those responsible for his father’s death.
Wouldn’t he?
Either way, this pipe signaled impending trouble.
Celia’s head snapped up and a gasp escaped her.
Manny tracked her gaze to the restaurant’s back exit. Javier and two other apron-clad employees filed out the door and huddled near a Dumpster. A flicker of a lighter, then a red spark trailed to one kid’s mouth. He handed the cigarette to Javier, who held it between his thumb and forefinger instead of his two first fingers. The three passed the cigarette between them, holding the exhale too long for it to be a typical cigarette.
“I’m going to throttle him, then filet his friends.” Celia jerked the car door but Manny grabbed her wrist, prohibiting her from leaping out and barreling over there.
“Let. Me. Go!” Her eyes went ablaze with anger and she tried repeatedly to jerk her hand free. The increasing pressure he exerted left a pink tinge to her skin, but Manny refused to let her go like this. “Wait. Let’s be rational about this.”
Manny had the same urge to jump from the car and put a choke hold on the kid who’d decided to share his goods with the others. “Let’s pray.” Though he wasn’t exactly a pro at it, it seemed like the thing to do. It’s what Joel would do in this sort of situation. It surprised Manny that the thought to pray entered his mind now where it never did before.
“God, please help me not kill my son’s friends in cold blood.” Celia glared at the huddle of kids through her front windshield, all the while working to free her hand.
Manny didn’t laugh because she sounded serious. “Father, help us deal with this, using divine wisdom and discretion.”
Her head swerved right to peer at him when he said the word us. Manny noticed because he prayed with his eyes open.
“Let’s go.” Manny released her hand and extracted himself from the car. They were halfway to the threesome before the boys noticed their approach. Javier’s eyes widened and he said something to the tall one. The short kid dropped the joint to the earth and put his foot over it.
“Hey, Mom. Whatcha doin’ here?” Javier shuffled dirt with his shoe and avoided Manny’s pointed gaze. Nervous didn’t even begin to describe Javier’s body language. Quaking in fear for his life came close.
Celia plowed past the first kid and backed her son up against the Dumpster using both hands on his chest. “How dare you? And you!” Celia glared past him where the other two had started to scramble their way up the steps leading inside the establishment. “Where do you two think you’re going? You’re gonna stay here and listen to what I have to say.”
Manny stood back, watching. Javier looked straight-up scared, and ashamed, which meant there was hope. The short kid looked even more scared. The tall kid looked lethal mad with no sign of remorse. Something unsettling filtered through Manny at the kid’s calm.
Like a calm before a devastating storm.
He needed to stress to Javier that this kid was bad news and try to get Javier out from under his sphere of influence.
“I should turn you in. All of you.” She shot Javier a pointed glare. “What would your father say if he could see you?”
Her words caused Javier’s eyes to flutter and his breathing to increase.
Celia took one step back from Javier and turned fiery eyes on the ringleader. “You stay away from my son, or you’ll be sorry. I could wring your neck right here and now, and not think twice about it. Neither would the cops.” For every menacing step she took toward him, the kid actually scrambled back.
“Your mom’s psycho.” He must have taken Celia at her word because his hands tugged his collar lapels closer around his neck.
“I make my own decisions,” Javier told her, glancing at the other two guys. When he glanced at Manny, his steps faltered and the hard planes of his face softened a moment. Then he stormed into the restaurant, followed by the other two, one of whom smirked all the way up the stairs.
The door slammed, echoing into the staunch evening that seemed to darken with each passing second.
Chapter Nine
Silence passed between Celia and Manny as they wound their way to the front entrance of the restaurant. Celia trembled all over. None of the tough exterior she’d displayed earlier was visible now.
“What do you want to do?” Manny slowed his steps near the entrance.
She stared at the beveled glass. “You mean, besides rip the arms off that kid who gave my son pot? I want to go in and royally pig out. And find out who these kids are.”
Manny thought it perceptive of her that, like him, she didn’t feel threatened by the shorter kid. That she detected the real threat was a credit to her. He’d tell her in a calmer moment. Tremors still controlled Celia’s fingers as the hostess seated them in the corner they requested.
Festive salsa music danced from speakers near the dark ceiling that boasted strings of colorful flags. Traditional Mexican apparel hung on display as cultural decor.
Manny breathed deep. His stomach rumbled. Aromas of hamburger meat, green chili, cheese, Spanish rice and refried beans wafted through the air. “I’m really hungry.”
“Good, ’cause they give you a ton of food here.” Celia pulled antibacterial hand wipes from her purse, offering one.
He studied the velvet oil painting of a matador above their table while wiping his hands. “Did I ever tell you Joel loves art? He won a few awards in school.”
She tilted her head. “Really? I never would have figured that about him.”
“Want to hear something even weirder? C.O. Petrowski encouraged our entire joint task force to take up a serene hobby.”
“What’s a joint task force?”
“A regular quick-reaction force is usually the team closest in locale to any military emergency. They have to be able to deploy on a moment’s notice. The special joint task team I’m talking about is a larger group made up of several smaller Special Forces teams from different branches of the military. Navy SEALs, a few Rangers and Delta guys and some tough-as-mortar Marines. Petrowski commands all of us. Remember Silas from the wedding?”
She nodded, scanning the kitchen area, and took a sip of water from the glass their hostess brought.
“He’s a SEAL, and he knits.”
Celia’s glass clunked down. She coughed out a laugh. “No! For real?”
“For real. Jack Chapman does leatherwork. Dude’s pretty good. Sells it on eBay. Makes a killing.”
“Petrowski wants you productive during downtime or what?”
“Something like that. Says it keeps our concentration on tap and helps us debrief after missions, which he feels is therapeutic.”
A waiter in a red-and-black sombrero and an authentic Mexican vest brought a basket of triangular corn chips and chunky salsa to their table. “Señora Munez! Es so good to see you. This you boyfriend, no?” The man placed one hand behind his back, bowing a greeting at Manny. Then flashed a toothy grin at her. His black handlebar mustache covered his upper lip completely and twirled out both sides.
A nacho chip cracked between her teeth and fluttered into her water glass. Her face flamed. “No, Sancho, he’s just a-a-a friend.” She smoothed invisible wrinkles from the tablecloth.
The waiter flitted to another table, promising to return to take their orders. Manny regarded Celia carefully. The way she’d answered reflected insecurity, something he never dreamt a confident, self-assured woman like her could be touched by, let alone flustered with. Like she wasn’t sure whether it was okay to call him a friend. If that hadn’t given her away, the fine tremors reclaiming her hands would have.
He bet she wished desperately for her husband to be here to help her deal with Javier’s issues. Manny couldn’t take Joseph’s place in their lives, but he could be a friend to her and try to get through to Javier. Would she let him get that close to them?
Did he want to get that close? Would he fail Javier like he’d failed his own son? He waited for his chest to burn with anxiety. It didn’t.
Celia tightened her grip on the menu. The younger, shorter boy who had been out back with Javier made a wide berth around them with a tub. Never looking up, he cleared dishes from a nearby table in a flurry.
“I bet he holds the record for fastest time to bus a table.” Manny cast Celia a sly grin above his menu.
That elicited a bit of a snicker from her.
After the teen skittered back to the kitchen area, Manny stared at the menu, not really seeing the words. He cast glances at Celia above the laminated trifold. He quelled the urge to reach his hand across the table and hold hers. If his morals were still on trial, that action might be construed as him taking advantage of her in a vulnerable state, something he’d never do.
“We’ll figure this out, Celia. Don’t worry.”
She started. His word choice startled him, too. We. When had he taken ownership over this family’s problems? Just when he thought she’d shove her invisible wall up again, something interesting happened.
Her shoulders relaxed as did her death grip on the menu. Manny hoped that meant it relieved and comforted her to know he would help all he could and wanted to be there for them.
Celia eyed the kitchen area, then her watch, then closed the menu. “Manny, I hate to do this, but I’ve lost my appetite. Would you mind too terribly if we got this to go?”
“No problem. I understand.” Manny signaled for the waiter who approached rapidly, carrying a tray of food for another table. He leaned close when Manny whispered, “Ms. Munez isn’t feeling well. Could we see your carry-out menu?”
The man cast Celia a concerned glance before gliding his hand down the menu. “Anyting here, we fax to go.” The man heavily rolled his Rs and chinned short nods at them. His heavy eyebrows lifted once with each consonant enunciated.
Celia chuckled. “Fix, Sancho. Not fax.”
The man grinned sheepishly. “Oh, jess. Fizz. Right. Fizz. I we delibed dis den be bag to take jew order, no?”
“Yes, that will be fine, thanks.” Celia nodded at him as he departed with the tray to its destination.
Manny hated to eat in front of her if she was so upset, but that food wafting off the tray smelled heavenly.
After ordering and obtaining their foam containers, Manny paid the cashier and held the door open for Celia. She stopped briefly in the door to peer around the restaurant, doing the same thing Manny had since leaving the back lot earlier.
Looking for Javier, who never resurfaced.
On the way to the car, Celia’s steps faltered. Manny saw it, too, and quickened his pace. She stomped in huffs to the precariously tilted car. Her tongue clicked like a pop gun at the flat tire.
Thankfully she set their food on the hood before both arms went airborne. “That’s it. I’m calling the cops.” Celia finished the rant in Spanish, her arms still doing the spastic fling.
Manny knelt as much as his injury allowed. He braced himself against the quarter panel and studied the tire.
A clean slit the size of a knife blade punctured the tread. Roving over the remainder of the vehicle, he saw the rest before Celia did. A silver streak ran the length of the black paint from bumper to bumper.
“Hold this.” Manny handed her his phone. “Wait here and call the cops.” He whisked inside the restaurant and asked to speak with Javier.
Javier approached with apprehensive eyes and slog steps. “Yeah?”
Manny clenched his jaw. “Just ‘yeah’?”
Javier swallowed and scanned past Manny.
“She’s outside. What’s going on, Javier?”
Another swallow and Javier’s eyes turned from apprehensive to imploring. “It’s not what it looks like, dude. You got to believe me.”
Manny tensed his jaw. “No. I don’t have to believe you. How do you expect me to when you have stuff like this taking up residence in your closet?” Manny gentled his voice as he extended the pipe.
“She went through my stuff?” Javier looked a mixture of violated, irritated and petrified.
“She found it by accident.” Manny tugged on the material of the hoodie. “Letting me borrow this. And by the way, any good parent will snoop.”
Javier scanned Manny. “I didn’t notice you wearing my hoodie before. Looks cool on you. I wish I filled my clothes out like you. Dude, listen. You have to calm my mom down. Tell her to trust me. Please.”
“Speaking of trust, I’m asking you point-blank. Are you doing this out of revenge?”
Javier tensed at the question, then didn’t answer.
Manny touched his finger to Javier’s chin, bringing him eye to eye. “Let God handle it. Don’t mess with these people. You don’t know the connections they may have. Is this worth putting your and your mother’s life in jeopardy?”
Softness entered Javier’s eyes. “No. I’m not plotting to exact revenge, if that’s what you’re worried about. At least, not anymore.”
“Talk to me, Javier. What’s going on?”
“You’ll tell my mom.”
“Depends.”
Javier studied Manny. “On?”
“Whether you’re putting your life, and hers, in danger.”
“I’m not. You gotta trust me on this, Manny.”
“I will if you tell me the truth.”
Javier cut a glance at Manny. “I will if you promise not to tell my mom.”
Manny sighed. “You fly a hard bargain.” Going totally on faith, Manny sensed it was okay to agree. He hoped he was doing the right thing. “But okay.”
Javier tilted his chin toward the back kitchen area. “The pipe is the short kid’s. Name’s Enrique. His dad killed mine.”
Blasted by surprise, Manny ran a palm over the back of his head and whistled. “Wow.”
“At first I wanted to hate him, but I couldn’t. He’s really hurting. He’s way worse off than me with everything that went down with our dads. Mom would never understand my need to get through to him. I don’t even know why I need to, but I do.”
“Wow. Javier, come straight home after you get off. I’ll drop by. Let’s talk more about this then. Okay?”
He shrugged. “I’ll talk to you. But not Mom. She never understands.”
Manny didn’t believe that, but he didn’t want to lose communication with Javier in this critical time. “Okay. But I’m serious. Don’t mess with the tall guy. He slashed your mom’s tires and raked a key or a knife along her car.”
Something brutal flashed in Javier’s eyes. His entire body clenched and he glared toward the kitchen. “Mom worked hard for that car.”
Manny braced a hand on the counter. “Don’t even think about doing anything about it. Promise
me.”
Javier tilted his chin up. “Take me skydiving, and I’ll promise you. Otherwise, I’m punching his lights out for keying our car.”
“How would your mom feel about you skydiving?”
“Same way she’d feel about me beating someone up or taking drugs, which I hate by the way.”
“You put me in a compromising position.” Manny rubbed a thumb and forefinger over each side of his mouth.
Javier shrugged. “I’ve skydived lots of times before, only Mom doesn’t know it. I want to learn how to do it right.”
“How many times is lots of times?”
“Seventeen.”
“Seventeen?” Manny didn’t feel good about this. Joel took over managing the Refuge Skydiving Facility months ago. No way would ultra-safety-conscious Joel let Javier jump without his mother’s consent and knowledge. “Javier, when you’ve jumped seventeen hundred times, then you can say you’ve done it a lot. Until then, you’re a beginner. Who took you?”
Javier stared at the floor. “I don’t want you to be disappointed in me.”
“Did you jump at the Refuge facility?”
Javier averted his gaze. “No.”
Manny shifted to a straighter stance. “Have you been BASE jumping, Javier?”
Guilt wisped across the kid’s face. “Here and there.”
“It’s very dangerous. Not to mention illegal.”
“I know. Well, I knew it was dangerous. That’s the whole point of doing it.”
If this hadn’t been such a serious situation, Manny would have laughed. A kid after his own heart. One who thrived on danger and adrenaline and anything extreme. Anything to push the limits and give his mom ulcers.
For the first time since their discussion, Javier made eye contact with Manny. “I didn’t know for sure it was illegal. So, will you take me or not?”
The stubborn set to Javier’s jaw told Manny he would skydive whether anyone liked it or not. The last thing Celia needed was for her son to end up a splat on the concrete beneath a building or bridge or a cliff or whatever surface they BASE jumped off around here.
Celia would probably hate him for keeping secrets of this magnitude, but choosing between the casualty of Javier’s life, or Celia’s trust in him was a no-brainer. He volleyed the decision in his conscience. If he kept Javier’s confidence, he’d likely burn any bridge of friendship he’d built with Celia. Especially if she discovered it before they told her. Not to mention bomb her trust to smithereens.