Luisa’s face burst into a huge smile. “Yeah!”
The dance show was held at the new inter-city amphitheater on the west side of town. It gleamed in its newness. The three held hands as they crossed the busy street and approached the front doors. Inside, Luisa tilted her head back and gazed up in amazement at the sheer vastness of the theater. Steel beams ran up on all sides of the immense hall and combined with clear glass to create an ultra-modern cathedral ceiling. Stars twinkled through, encouraging them to stay still and stare, waiting for the right moment to witness a shooting star.
Even if Monica hadn’t been looking forward to the dance show herself – which she was – and even if she didn’t have the added advantage of sitting next to the most gorgeous man in the world for two straight hours – which she did – the evening would’ve been worth it based solely on the beaming appreciation on Luisa’s face. She was obviously having the time of her life.
“Luisa, thank you so much for getting us these tickets. This is going to be a great show.”
Luisa giggled. “I just wish Mama could’ve come. I wish she had the night off.”
Monica nodded and caught Carlos’ eye. He winked at her as they headed for their seats.
Their seats were excellent – twenty rows from the front on the floor level, in the center. Behind them, a magnificent balcony rose up, then behind it, two more levels besides. To their left and right, three levels of box seats hung from the side walls. This place was enormous.
They chatted about the theater, and discussed the contents of Luisa’s essay. When they quieted, Monica said, “I have some really exciting news of my own.”
Carlos grinned, eyebrows raised. Monica laughed and slugged him in the arm. “Not that,” she whispered and darted a quick glance at Luisa. Although that in itself was one of the most exciting things that had happened to her in a very long time.
“I’m going to be in the play. I actually get to be on stage as Victoria, the leading lady.”
Luisa clapped and gave Monica a high five. Carlos squeezed her hand. “This is no small thing, you know.”
Monica released a long, shaky breath. “I don’t know if I can do it or not. We’ll find out tomorrow night, won’t we?”
“Tomorrow night?”
She nodded. “Opening night. If you’d like to come, I’ll leave tickets for you both at the box office.”
Luisa squealed and Carlos put his hand on his sister’s shoulder. “Count on us. We’ll be there.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. Especially since I found out my mother and sister won’t be there. There’s something about Opening Night. Especially for me, since this is my first time on stage. I want to know there’s someone out there, thinking positive thoughts and wishing me the best. I don’t want to be all alone.”
“You won’t be.” Luisa smiled and craned over, placing a kiss on Monica’s cheek. “My big brother and I will be there for you.”
The lights dimmed and soon the stage filled with dancers dressed in big, colorful skirts, peasant blouses and heeled shoes, swooshing around in a frenzy of choreographed motion.
Later, they trekked back outside, the chill in the air cutting through their warm garb. Luisa stifled a yawn and Monica realized it was way past her normal bedtime. They chatted about the performance. It was an evening Luisa would remember for a long, long time.
They traveled along with the flow of audience members now crossing the street in a crowd to get to their cars. Once in the car, they settled into their seats.
Carlos turned the key to start the engine. Nothing. No sound, no response. He looked at Monica, then back at the steering wheel. He turned the key again. The engine was decidedly dead.
He sat back in his seat, sighing. Monica watched him. They were stuck in downtown St. Louis, late at night, with a broken down car. But who better to handle the situation than Carlos? He was a mechanic, for God’s sake.
“What’s wrong?” Luisa’s little voice came from the back seat.
“The car won’t start.” Carlos opened his door. “It’ll be fine. I’ll just check out the engine.”
Carlos crossed to the front and opened the hood. He lowered his head into the engine, removing him from Monica’s view. She turned to face Luisa in the back seat. “He’ll take care of it, sweetie. Don’t worry.”
“What if he needs some tools or oil or something? Stuff we don’t have here?”
“Then . . .,” Monica thought quickly, “we’ll just call a cab. How about that? I have my cell phone. We can call someone to pick us up.”
Luisa’s face calmed into a slight smile. Good. They were perfectly safe.
Carlos worked on the engine, moving to the trunk, then back to the front. The show-goers filtered past, and eventually cleared out. Monica and Luisa filled the time playing a round of “I Spy.”
About fifteen minutes into the wait, Monica called out the window, “What would you think about leaving the car here? I could call a cab and we could have it towed.”
He waved her suggestion away. “I’ve almost got it.” He slid back into the car seat and tried the key again, pumping his foot on the accelerator. This time, the engine grumbled and screeched a little before it settled again into inactivity. He slammed his fist on the steering wheel.
From the back seat, Luisa gasped. “Monica?”
Monica watched the little girl and saw fear developing in her eyes. “It’ll be okay, sweetie.” Monica dug in her purse for her cell and punched in the numbers for Information. She asked for a nearby cab company and waited while the operator connected her. A brief conversation made her feel a little less anxious. “They said it’d be about twenty minutes.”
Carlos nodded. “Hopefully I’ll have it running by then.” He slid out again and went back to work. Luisa lay down on the back seat and closed her eyes.
The car rocked gently as Carlos bent to his task. Monica watched as his hands struggled with greasy-looking tools and engine parts, removing them from a leather pouch he’d pulled from the trunk and arranged on the rim of the engine. He stopped for a moment to examine each extracted part, when the big lights in the parking lot suddenly went out, plunging them into darkness.
Monica heard a screwdriver hit the pavement and Carlos spit out an angry curse. With the hood up, Monica couldn’t see him fully and the darkness wasn’t helping either. She rolled the window down and peered outside. Lights from a gas station a block away and cars traveling on the roads surrounding the lot helped illuminate the inky blackness.
An unmuffled engine roared in the night. Instead of getting more distant, the menacing sound grew louder. And louder. Monica cringed. The car was coming their way. When the engine roar was so loud and menacing she wanted to scream, she leaned over the seat and clapped her hands over Luisa’s ears to shield her eardrums. The little girl looked up, her face scrunched in fear. Then, the engine cut.
Silence.
“It’s you.” The deep, male voice made her tremble. It sounded threatening.
“Take it easy, amigo. I don’t want any trouble.” Carlos’ voice, in return, was calm and controlled.
“You may not want any but you found it.”
“Easy, buddy.”
She heard doors open and slam. “Stay here, sweetie.”
Monica jumped out of the car and walked around to the front. Carlos stood with two dark-haired men – one with long, stringy hair, the other crew-cut. The men huddled in a menacing circle in front of the raised hood. Carlos startled at the sight of her, his eyes wide with surprise. “Get back in the car.”
She shook her head, worried about him. Were these guys from his gang days? Were they threatening him? She took a step closer. “Monica, go.” Monica shuddered at the urgency in his tone.
“Hey, guerra, you with him?” The long-haired one leered at her. He looked back and forth between her and Carlos, then with a swipe, pulled on the snaps of his leather jacket till it fell open. “Why don’t you let me show you what a real man is like?” He
pulled his jacket off and threw it on the ground.
It was the first moment she was quite sure they were in trouble. Featured on the man’s forearm in black ink was a tattoo identical to the one on Carlos’s back – L.D.
She gaped at it in horror, her breath caught in her throat. She caught a glint of reflection off a metal blade in the other man’s hand. Carlos took a step toward her and gave her a nudge. “Lock the door, you hear me? Don’t let anyone in.” She ran around the car, heading for the back door. Catcalls from the two strangers were directed at her, and profane suggestions that made her shiver with fright.
Carlos turned back to the men. Monica dove into the backseat with Luisa and saw Crew Cut haul an arm back and punch Carlos in the face with a blurred fist. Monica screamed and reached across the vehicle to lock all the doors. Carlos tripped, one foot over the other and fell, landing in a heap on the pavement.
Luisa stirred and blinked sleepy eyes at her. “What’s going on? Where’s Carlos?”
“You think you’re hot-shit, don’t you? You think you can just walk away from us?” Monica wasn’t sure which of them had said it.
“We’ll fight for your little chica with the tight ass. She’s hot, hombre. Winner takes her.”
Carlos’ attacker leaned over him, taunting Carlos as he jumped to his feet. The man’s words were eerily filtered through the sealed windows of the car. Laughter rose into the night but there was no humor in it. Monica’s heart pumped in her chest. Hands shaking, she pulled out her cell and punched in 9-1-1. “I need the police. I’m in the parking lot of the amphitheater and there’s a fight going on – two against one. One’s got a knife. We need help!”
A strangled sob escaped from Luisa. Monica pulled the little girl close, tucking her head against her own chest. Monica craned her neck to watch Carlos as best she could, while blocking Luisa’s view. Monica fought to hold back tears.
“Where you been, Garcia? Haven’t seen you in awhile.”
Carlos threw punches, one-two-three. The man who’d dropped him sunk to the concrete, temporarily debilitated. The long-haired man approached and landed one fist in Carlos’ stomach. Carlos doubled over and heaved, saliva spitting from his mouth. He straightened and followed up with a boot to the long-haired man’s midsection. Then he delivered vicious kicks to his attacker’s gut again and again.
Carlos’s chest heaved from exertion. Monica felt helpless penned in the locked car. Her pulse raced and she felt her hands and fingers tingle with panic, a sure sign of hyperventilation. But she couldn’t faint – she had to keep Luisa safe and calm, and she needed to be there for Carlos. In the distance, she caught the faint wail of a police siren and prayed it was heading their way.
“What’s the matter, Garcia? Can’t talk?” The men circled and she couldn’t view the attacker, but she could see Carlos. He looked calm and unafraid, like he did this every day.
“You think I can’t kick your ass?” The one with the knife hurled insults and yet Carlos kept his emotions under control.
Monica watched as Carlos leaned over and quickly straightened, the discarded screwdriver now in his hand. The greasy-haired man sliced the air with his knife and Carlos swung the screwdriver in to block.
The man jabbed, Carlos whirled out of the way of the blade and swung his own arm toward his attacker. His weapon hit its mark, plunging into the man’s shoulder. The assailant groaned but kept coming. He rushed at Carlos like a swordsman, wielding the knife. Carlos made a lightning fast dodge, escaping the razor sharp slices of the blade.
Monica held her hand over her mouth, preventing cries that would scare Luisa even more. The girl sobbed, her face hidden against Monica’s chest. “What’s going on? Is Carlos okay?”
Monica shushed her and smoothed her hair. She whispered reassuring words, hoping to God Carlos would be all right. Carlos was in a fight for his life and she had just discovered he loved her. And she loved him. What if he got hurt? Or worse?
The men drifted in front of the car now, her view blocked again. Panic cut through her own chest. The volume of the distant sirens increased steadily. The police were coming. Carlos just had to hold the attacker off for a few more minutes.
A man’s painful shriek sliced through the darkness. A body fell to the ground, landing in a heap on the hard pavement. She had no idea if it was Carlos’s voice – just a primal expression of agony. She closed her eyes and prayed it wasn’t Carlos lying there, moaning in pain on a cold parking lot, blood flowing from a knife wound.
A siren now filled the immediate air and flashing lights illuminated the night. Men’s voices shouted. Luisa sobbed quietly in Monica’s arms. “The police are here! They’ll help us.”
Monica unlocked the door. Clutching Luisa, she slid out of the car. Four police officers, two cars, their lights blinking, the sirens wailing so loudly that even with raised voices, she couldn’t make out what was being said. The officers pulled the two attackers to their feet, handcuffed them and pushed them into the back seat of a squad car.
“Looks like another Latin Dragons hit,” one policeman called to his partner. “Come on, guys, you’re coming with us.”
“It’s our lucky night,” the other officer said to the men as he buckled them into the back seat. “We’ve been looking for you since that slaying in July.”
“We didn’t have anything to do with it,” a muffled voice from inside the car said.
“Sure. Tell it to the D.A.”
Monica turned and searched frantically for Carlos and spotted him, lying a few feet away. She ran to him.
Blood seeped out of a rip in the arm of his cotton shirt. Monica stopped short and gasped, her hand clamped over her mouth. That was the last thing Luisa needed to see, so she forced herself to turn her back on him to spare his sister the devastating sight.
“Ma’am? Could you tell us what happened here?”
She did her best to describe the scene to the police officer, patting Luisa on the back. She kept an eye on Carlos while an EMT tended to his wound, soaking it in antiseptic and wrapping it tight with a gauze bandage. They lifted him onto a stretcher and belted him on.
So much was going on at once and Monica reeled from the shock. Her eyes had never seen violence like this. When the policeman finished with her, she dashed to the ambulance to Carlos’s side and held his hand.
He opened his eyes and managed a weak smile. Relief flooded through her. He winked tiredly and squeezed her hand. “I’ll be all right, carina. You take care of Luisa, okay?”
She nodded. They pushed him into the vehicle. She held on as long as she could until she was forced to let his hand slip from her grip. She asked the EMT what hospital they would take him to. She’d be there as soon as she got Luisa home and informed Mrs. Garcia what happened.
She climbed into the back of the police car. Luisa scrambled onto her lap. The little girl still cried and Monica told her over and over again it would be okay. That Carlos would be fine. They would all be fine.
She prayed it was true.
Chapter Eleven
Monica pushed open the door and paused in the doorway, her gaze resting on the solitary form in the hospital bed across the darkened room. A clear tube ran from a hanging bag of liquid into Carlos’s arm, taped in place. His eyes rested shut and she swallowed, her imagination running away with her. Had there been complications tonight before she arrived?
Her fingers dropped away from the door. She slipped in quietly, not wanting to disturb his rest, yet desperate to make a noise that would cause his eyes to pop open and prove he was alive, awake, healthy.
She came to his bedside and gripped his hand. It was warm and his strong pulse pumped just beneath the surface. At her squeeze, his eyes fluttered open and his face settled into a contented smile.
“Hi.” His voice cracked.
“How are you feeling?” Monica rolled her eyes at her question. How would anyone feel after having a knife thrust into his gut?
“I’ve been better. And worse.”
He’d been worse, most likely in those dozens of street fights he’d had in his younger days. Her stomach muscles clenched.
“Carina,” he said, attempting to connect with her eyes. She turned away and wiped her errant tears. “I’m fine. Really.”
She shook her head. She had to get a grip on herself. It had been a long night.
“Listen.” He tugged on her hand to pull her closer. Not satisfied, he put a finger under her chin and guided her head so she was forced to face him. She sniffed. “I’m sorry. I know you hated to see that. But I’m going to be fine. The doctor says no lasting damage. I’ll be good as new.” He gave a tentative smile, raised his eyebrows – a question she had no answer for.
“You’re going to be fine?” Despite her determination to keep her emotions under control, she flinched when she heard the hitch in her own voice.
He nodded, a deceptively carefree grin in place.
“Carlos, you could’ve been killed.”
“Nah. He barely got me.”
The teasing tone in his voice belied the terror she’d felt deep inside when the blade had gone in. However, even Monica was caught by surprise when her next words came out in a scream. “Stop it! This isn’t a joke, Carlos. You have a knife wound in your gut. That’s about as serious as it gets.”
Carlos went silent, looked at the door for a moment, then back to Monica. He pushed the thin cotton cover back and swung his legs over the side of the flimsy bed. She rushed to his side, and pushed on his shoulders to return him to a reclined position.
The door opened and a nurse bustled in. “No, no, Mr. Garcia. Get back in bed. We’re not ready to release you yet. The doctor wants to see you again in the morning. Come on now.”
Carlos sighed and let his gaze rest of Monica’s face. He paused a moment, then swung his legs with controlled movement back into the bed. Monica whispered, “I’m sorry,” as the nurse passed her on her way out the door.
Monica pulled a chair close to the bed and sat. “I don’t know how to deal with this.”
He shrugged. “There’s nothing to deal with. It’s all over but the healing. I’m fine.” He reached for her face but she swung away.
Inner Diva Page 14