"Sorry. You know, I'd rather find them-"
"I don't care about them. I need you to find Anna."
"I found her parents. They died in 1927."
"I know that. What about her?"
Dead or alive, people were impossible to please. "I'm working on it. It would help to have hard facts like dates and years and addresses."
He closed his eyes. Dori dared not blink in case he vanished on her again.
"I want to help you," she said. "I don’t even know where you lived or when you were born or where you’re buried."
His eyes snapped open, and he swelled with energy, making the pantry go cold.
"None of that matters," he said in a big hurry, as if he needed to get it all out before he disappeared. "Once they were done with me, they would've gone after Anna. She was vulnerable and like most women, wouldn't listen to a damn word I said."
Chapter Fourteen
National City, 1925
"Where have you been?" Anna demanded when he came up to her on the beach. She gestured for him to follow her into the brush. "Look. I found something."
He stood a bit taller at the knowledge she'd been waiting for him. The low lying grass crunched under her boots as she crept towards a patch of black slimy water.
"We have to hurry before she comes back."
"Your mother?"
"No," she said as if he were slow. "Look there."
She pointed and he leaned forward, only seeing mud and a bush of spiny, pointed limbs.
"What am I looking at?"
Anna edged closer and her hair tickled his cheek. He stared down at her ear, tracing down to the edge of her dress that came up to her neck.
"See it?"
Vicente traced the length of her arm, itching to rub his hand down her smooth skin to the tip of her pointed finger. The breeze ruffled the feathers stuck into a nest of twigs and mud.
"I saw the mother. She has three eggs in it."
"You're not going to eat them are you?"
She swung around, about to chastise him and then realized how close they stood. "Shut up!"
He held up both hands. "I was joking. It's very uh, natural. I've never seen a nest this close."
Anna looked at him like she knew he was humoring her. He didn't give a crap about birds' nests, but if she put a lot of store in them and stood close enough that her hair caressed him, then he would, too.
"Here," she said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a candy stick. "Not that you deserve it."
She turned and marched with arms swinging towards the water. Vicente tore off the paper and stuck the candy in his mouth. He wondered how long she'd pout. He jogged ahead and caught up with her.
"Are you going to the wedding?" he asked.
"What wedding?"
He thought for a minute, trying to remember the names of the couple getting married. The women at work talked of nothing else. What caught his attention was that whether you knew the people or not, weddings, baptisms and wakes in the barrio were fair game.
"You don't know their names?" Anna asked, laughing as she sat down on the sand and unlaced her boots.
He joined her. "The food is free and so is the music."
"My parents just send a gift if they get invited." The wind blew the ends of her hair against his arm as they sat side-by-side facing the water. "I hate going to those things."
"Why?"
She shrugged and then stuck a piece of candy in her mouth.
"It's because you can't dance, huh?"
"No it isn't!"
"Dance with me and prove it."
She straightened her spine. "At the wedding?"
"Where else?"
Even though he teased, his question hung between them. She was fourteen, too young to be out with young men. But he'd do things properly. He eased back onto his elbows, forcing himself into a relaxed pose. He was asking for more than a dance, and she knew it. His hands clenched tight when she didn't answer his question.
They'd met here for the past five Thursdays. Always by chance, or that's how he played it. Little by little, she stayed a bit longer and lost that quiet, blank look on her face. The last time when he showed up, she held out four sticks of candy. His heart doubled in size that she'd brought them for him. It was the best gift anyone had given him because it meant she thought about him when they weren't together.
He still had two hidden under the floor where he kept his stash of newspaper money.
She sighed and then finally said, "They won't let me go."
"But they let you come here."
She grinned as she drew circles in the sand. "It's nap time. Mother thinks I'm sleeping."
The thought of Anna sneaking out of her big white house just to see him made his heart stop and then resume beating at double time. "Then come to the wedding."
Her finger stopped. "People will tell."
"Then don't go home. We both won't go home."
She didn't look away. Before she could say no, he sat up. "We could move to Hollywood. You could sell candy and I'll be-" He looked off at the bay, squinting against the harsh sunlight. "I'll be in the movies."
She snorted and then pressed her hand to her mouth, covering up her laugh.
"It could work," he said, his pulse kicking against his throat.
"I think it's ridiculous."
"Not if we do it. We could-" He stopped himself. He said too much.
She shook her head. "When I turn fifteen next year, I'm getting married."
Even with the sun burning his face, Vicente went cold. She hadn't moved from her spot, but she was slipping away from him.
"Everything we have is because of him. Our house, father's business, the doctors for my brothers and-" She brushed her hands over her light blue skirt and then dropped her gaze to the sand between them.
"What's his name?" Vicente managed, even though it felt like he was being held by the throat.
"Albert. He was supposed to marry my sister but she died during the epidemic with our brothers and sisters, so my parents they-"
She clamped her lips into a tight line. He thought she was going to cry, but she went very still. "I sometimes dream that my sister is mad at me for taking him from her."
"How old was your sister when she died?"
"My age." Her eyes softened. "She was the one who took care of me and I had to sit with them when he came calling. He seemed old then, too."
"Do you want to marry him?"
"I have to."
"But-"
Anna rose up from the sand. The wind blew her dress against her legs. "I'll see you at the reception," she said. "I'll try but-"
She shook her head and then started off.
"You will?" he called.
"I will."
She'd left her boots behind. He picked them up and ran after her. He saw her flinch when she heard him coming up on her. She swung around with the look of uncertainty of what he'd do.
"You need these," he said, holding them out.
She looked from the boots to him. "Thank you."
When she reached for them, he held them over his head, laughing.
Anna didn't seem to know what to do, as if she'd forgotten how to play. She planted her fists on her hips. "Give them!"
He danced back, clenching his candy stick between his teeth.
She stalked over. "Vicente!"
He almost handed them over. It was the first time she'd ever used his name. "Don't just stand there."
"Come on. I'll be late."
He wouldn't see her for three more days. He wanted to make this time last. She leapt up and he tensed to spring back at the last minute. Instead of snatching at her boots, she ripped the candy out of his mouth.
They stood there, both of their eyes wide with surprise. She covered her mouth, laughing.
"Give it back," he said.
She put his candy stick behind her back, lifting her chin. "Only if you say you're sorry."
He could've easily tackled her for
it, but he liked seeing her eyes alive. "What if I don't?"
"Then I toss this in the water." She wiggled the candy stick.
"No, you won't."
Her grin burst into a full smile.
He launched at her. She sprung out of his way and then ran around him, racing for the water. He gave her enough time to think she might get away. The sunlight burned straight into his eyes, and for a moment, she disappeared into the light.
It was the happiest moment of his life.
Everyone brought chairs from home to sit and watch the dancing at the church hall. Mariachi Calderon, all the way from Guadalajara, performed at the front of the room, their faces shining with sweat. The tables held homemade tamales, rice, beans, tortillas, nopales, cakes and a bowl of punch. Men who wanted something more, went around the corner to Ulalio Riley's backyard for a glass of whiskey. It was brewed by his Irish grandpa, who would tell anyone how he came across the Atlantic Ocean for America's promise of fortune only to end up Mexico.
Vicente stood outside between the church and the hall, selling papers and tobacco to the boys. They clung together in a tight circle, the smoke rising from their eager pulls. His attention flicked about the churchyard in time to the thrumming of the guitarron. The husbands were already swaying under the influence of the Riley whiskey. Children yawned and slept in their mother's laps. The old ladies in their stiff, old-fashioned black dresses watched with disapproval and envy as the young girls danced with their suitors.
Alex ran up. "Look, look," he said and held out a dented flask. Vicente stepped forward to stop the infringement of his business, but Alex was giving it away for free.
Jorge was the first to grab it and drink. His eyes bulged out, and he spat the whiskey.
"Cabrón, that cost me five cents!" Alex flicked off beads of spit and whiskey from his white shirt.
"You paid five cents for horse piss," Jose said, shoving Alex so hard that he dropped the flask. Vicente jumped out of the way to keep his new suit clean.
The first fight of the evening began as the boys shoved each other, their oiled hair falling in their faces and lips pulled back, revealing teeth.
Vicente picked up the forgotten flask, sniffed the inside and then thought a sip might ease the tightness in his chest. It was like swallowing fire. Alex grabbed the front of Jose's shirt and with the sound of the fabric tearing, they fell to the ground.
The police would be prowling the party if these two didn't finish up soon. National City had gone dry before prohibition, and cops here loved nothing more than a Mexican with whiskey; especially when they'd been tilting back a bit of their own during patrol.
Vicente tossed the flask into the Father's roses. He edged away from the noise and clamor.
The collar of his new shirt stuck to the back of his neck, and he held his arms away from his sides so his armpits wouldn't soak the dark blue wool of his coat. His new pants hung the right length over proper dress shoes. His grandmother nearly brained him with her iron when he stepped out in his new suit this morning before the wedding.
"Where did you get the money? Why would you spend it on yourself when your sister needs a new dress?'
Vicente used his newspaper money. He had bought Eugenia a new doll, which she'd hidden from their grandmother. He bought the tobacco and papers to make back what he spent on the doll and the suit. When he tossed a few quarters on the table, the old lady shut up real quick like he knew she would.
Hands grabbed him by the coat. "You! Watch where you're going!"
Vicente was yanked up to the balls of his feet, staring into an angry face. The next moment he was tossed back, landing hard on his ass with a bounce. He snarled up at the broad shouldered man who held Anna's fist against his chest.
"You almost stepped on Miss Vazquez," he said, as sweat trickled down his florid cheeks. "You should apologize."
Anna stared down at him, her hair hanging long and loose with two pink bows stuck behind her ears. Her dress was white with a panel of lace running down from the high-necked collar to a pink sash tied low at her hips. Long sleeves and thick stockings covered her arms and legs, and instead of heels, she wore flat pink slippers.
In this childish get up, she looked ridiculous.
"Do you know this boy?" the man ordered. Tiny rocks bit into the heels of Vicente's hands as he pushed himself up to standing.
Anna's chin stayed level, but her eyes dropped to the ground. She shook her head.
"What kind of answer is that, Anna?"
"I don't know him, Albert."
Albert stared at her, leveraging silence to pry open the truth. Vicente willed Anna to admit that she knew him, that she'd brought him candy and they'd chased each over the sand until they both had stitches in their sides and could hardly breathe from laughing.
Vicente stared at her, willing her to look at him and step away from Albert and stand beside him. I'll fight for you, he wanted to say. I'll take care of you.
"Beg your pardon," Vicente said, nearly choking on his apology. Tonight he'd such hopes he and Anna would dance, that he'd finally get to touch and hold her. In his head, she would gaze up at him in such a way that he'd finally know she wanted him as badly as he wanted her.
She now refused to look at him, to give any indication that they knew each other.
"Come," Albert said, giving a sharp tug on Anna's arm. She didn't follow. "Anna, I said come."
Vicente watched Albert escort her past the boys who'd been pulled apart by their friends.
Standing there with dust on his ass, Vicente held his breath until his chest nearly exploded. He stalked across the yard and into the dance hall. He kept to the edges of the crowd, pain making his chest go cold.
Albert walked Anna around the edge of the dance floor, showing off his prize while nodding to the old ladies. She kept her gaze straight ahead, not bowing in shame even though hands shot up and covered whisperings in their wake. She stared unblinking as if she were sleepwalking.
When they finished the circuit, Albert reached into his white suit coat and held out cash, waving it to the band. The singer nodded in appreciation, and they began a waltz. Vicente watched as his whole body froze over. He should've felt some spark of anger or something. He felt nothing.
Albert danced her into the center of the dance floor, a smug grin pinned to his fat face. He had a square-shaped head that seemed to sit right between his shoulders. He couldn't dance worth shit and his chubby fingers clamped tight onto her back. The two of them in their pure white glowed in a sea of dingy gray, brown and black. He smiled down at her as if about to bite her. Every time Anna turned towards Vicente, she kept her gaze on Albert's shoulder as if to pretend he wasn't there.
He watched them dance four dances. Albert walked her to sit with two old ladies and then headed out the front door with a silver cigarette case in his hands. Vicente wheeled around into the darkness, not seeing Anna look up at the last moment to see if he was still there.
He let the moonless night swallow him up, not caring as he splashed through the reddish water collecting in the center of the road. The wind roared by his ears as he pumped his legs faster and faster away from the barrio, along the train tracks.
The train's light burned his eyes, but he kept running towards it. His heart was about to explode out of his chest. He couldn’t get far enough away from her in that man's arms. The train's whistle screamed and he veered off to the right. Grass and dried shrubs scratched and tore at his new shoes and pants. As he came over the rise, his ankle collapsed. He hit the sand hard. The train rattled past, car after car and then it was only a red swinging light that disappeared into the night.
Vicente could hardly breathe through the agony in his chest. He felt a fool in his new suit; so obvious in his attempt to rescue her.
"You gotta reason for being here?"
Something poked him in the arm. Vicente looked up at the shadow of a man holding a shotgun on him.
"I said-"
"Yeah," Vicente snapped, his
stomach boiling for a fight. "I got every right to be here."
"Stand up."
Vicente refused to get up.
"You're at the wrong end of the barrel, kid."
Vicente surged to his feet. The man stepped back. "Hey, take it easy!"
"Don't stick a gun in my face unless you're going to use it."
"Hell, kid. I don't wanna shoot you."
The man backed off, and Vicente saw there were two more unloading barrels onto the beach. His mouth dropped open. He'd never seen real bootleggers. They weren't small time or grandpa with his still in the basement. These were the real deal.
Vicente held up his hands. "I don't want to get shot."
The man lowered the barrel. "If I were you, I'd head back where you came from."
Vicente counted six barrels on the sand, and one of the guys waded out to the boat for more. From his newspaper sales, Vicente read that the caves in La Jolla and along Point Loma were getting too hot. But on this silent stretch of beach, they had to roll those barrels up the rise and then across almost four miles of tidelands to the nearest road.
"I can get you guys closer to your truck," he said.
The shotgun came up, aiming at his chest. Vicente quickly explained there was a sandbar up north. He could fetch the truck, drive it up and meet them.
"Who the hell are you?" the gunman asked.
"Just a guy who wants to help."
The man turned and hissed over his shoulder. "Hey Mario, come here."
Vicente heard the crunching in the sand.
"What's the problem?" another voice asked in the dark.
"We gotta a kid here who knows where we can make the drop."
"We got half the load on the sand."
"From here, you have to walk up the rise and cross the tracks and then the swamp to get to the nearest road," Vicente explained. "I'll help you reload, show you the place. You can send your gun with me to make sure we're square."
"Hell, there's cops up there."
"There's a dance at the church," Vicente said. "They'll be there waiting to break it up."
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