“A little tense around here, is it?” asked Ron.
Dee said to him, “You boys go in the kitchen. We’re kinda busy here. Maybe you’ll find a beer in the fridge.”
Charlie and Ron went into the kitchen and located the beverages. Both men leaned on the small counter that separated the dining area from the living room. Both rested elbows and forearms on a counter, beers in hand.
At this point all hell broke loose. Maria screamed at her husband. Nea lifted off the sheet. Dee held Maria’s hand telling her, “Breathe, honey, breathe!”
“I think she’s crowning,” yelled Nea.
“Breathe. But don’t push. Not yet.”
At that moment Charlie came in and looked. But should not have. “Oh, no freakin’ way! That’ll never work!”
“Thought you said not to look,” replied Ron.
“Christ. She’s gonna be a cripple after this!”
Santino wiped Maria’s forehead. “I love you, Maria.”
Maria replied with a stern, “Fuck you! Shut up! Get out! I never want to see you again. Oh god...it hurts!
“What can I do, mija?” Santino pleaded.
“Nothing! Just shut. The. Hell. Up!” Maria hissed in staccato Spanish.
Nea was between Maria’s legs. Denice had Maria’s left foot on her thigh, sitting, knees on the floor, looking around Maria’s leg to gauge dilation.
Charlie looked at Ron, and said quietly, “I can see the top of its head. Should I get a plunger or something to help out?”
“I think you should stay as far away from there as possible,” advised Ron. “You’re looking pale, Charlie.”
The muffled screams started again. Maria sat forward. Denice pushed her back, and Nea was saying to no one in particular, “Almost ready. Almost. Almost...”
Charlie rocked back and forth. Ron watched Charlie. Nea was in catcher’s position, like a baseball umpire.
Denice looked at Maria and said, “Okay, NOW! Push! Push! Push!” She puffed through her mouth like she was blowing out a fire, looking right into her eyes. Not 30 inches away from her face, saying again. “Breathe. Push! Push! Push!”
Maria screamed bloody hell.
Santino let go of her hand and knelt in the pray-to-Jesus-help-us-all position.
Denice had Maria’s undivided attention. Their eyes had interlocked and welded together as one. Nea yelled, “Here it comes!”
And Charlie’s mouth fell open when he saw what was coming.
At that second the baby’s head and shoulders abruptly emerged, and the rest of the baby quickly slid into home plate, face first.
Right about then Charlie hit the kitchen floor face first.
Thankfully, the newborn began to wail.
“It’s a girl. It’s a girl.” Nea exclaimed, holding her while she cried and the baby gurgled. Dee cleared the infant’s nose with the blue nasal bulb. Santino stared into space like he’d just seen God. And in a way he probably had.
Dee quickly cut the cord with the razor blade and roach clip hemostats and secured it with a big blue plastic paperclip.
Ron looked over Dee’s shoulder in complete amazement.
Nea quickly dipped the baby’s feet into a bucket of cold water, prompting the little bundle of joy to take her first breath, her first breath of freedom; she used it to scream loudly. Very loudly.
Maria watched Nea intently wipe her baby down.
Ron quipped, “The Discovery Channel ain’t shit compared to this.”
Dee wrapped the baby in a Winnie the Pooh blanket and set Celia Dee Jean Piñia on her mother’s chest. “Charlie. Come see the baby,” Denice pleaded.
So much for big tough Charlie DeVille.
“Honey?” Denice looked around. Charlie was lying on his back now, his eyes rolled up in his head. “Charlie. It’s over, baby. Wake up.”
Everyone except Maria and the baby were gathered in a circle standing over Denice, who was sitting on the floor slapping her husband’s face gently. “Wake up, honey.”
Charlie opened one eye. “Who’s the ugly guy standing behind you?”
“That’s Ron, honey.”
“I’m gonna let that pass,” said Ron. “Seeing as how you’ve lost your mind, and all.”
Charlie sat up, and accidentally put his hand in the wet tile adhesive that was still out from his kitchen remodel. “Perfect.”
Nea said to Charlie, “You okay, Dad?”
“Not after what I just saw.” He crawled on his hands and knees and looked around the bar at Maria and the baby. Maria was smiling, nursing Celia with the proud papa looking on. Santino had a goofy grin on his face. At least he didn’t pass out.
Everyone took a collective breath. “What now?” Charlie asked.
“We call Ramona,” said Nea.
“Can’t do it, phones are no good,” replied Denice.
“I’m hungry,” Charlie chimed in.
“Now that’s something I can handle,” said Ron with a smile.
“Not much here,” responded Denice. “We haven’t gone shopping yet.”
“I own a restaurant, maybe you’ve heard of it. Live Oak Inn.”
Charlie, always looking to have the last word, piped up with, “Well, then what are standing around here for?”
-- -- --
Ernest Hemingway said, “What is right is what feels good after.” How can bringing a new life into the world be wrong? All because you didn’t involve the police? Some things just boil down to choices made in the moment, and what your heart tells you to do. And if it feels good afterwards it’s easy to defend your actions and live with the consequences.
When the lights came on at two in the morning at Ron and Lily’s restaurant, the only people awake were at a large table in front of a modest fire. Drinking coffee and winding down.
Ron was in the kitchen doing his magic, and judging by the smell, he was doing an outstanding job.
The lights were dim, the fire crackling. Charlie was quiet and pensive, as Brandt chose a crayon. Nea was teaching him Eenie Meenie Miney Mo, catch a monkey by the toe. Which just goes to show how things change and still stay the same.
Denice looked at Lily and thoughtfully asked, “Are you angry?”
“For what?”
Charlie added himself to the conversation. “Ron made it pretty clear that you both knew about our present profession.”
“It’s not ours to judge.”
Denice grabbed the pot, poured Lily more coffee, and said, “We never have and never will endanger you, Ron, or your business with our profession. We consider this place our haven, our safe port. We did not know Santino and Maria were hiding in the rocks.
“We did.” Lily continued softly. “We don’t like it, but it’s beyond our control. We’ve only owned Live Oak for two years and this has been going on for generations.” She blew across the top of her mug of steaming coffee and added, “Sometimes I see them late at night using the pay phone. Sometimes I leave food behind the store.” She shrugged her shoulders and looked into the fire. “Ron and I cannot jeopardize our investment by hiring them. But that does not mean we don’t feel for them.”
Ron entered from the kitchen pushing a loaded-down pastry cart, buffet style with breakfast goodies: scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, hash brown potatoes, biscuits and gravy, the works. He handed Nea a couple of containers and told her, “Pile up two plates for the happy couple.”
“Thanks, Ron,” she replied. “It looks delicious.”
Ron sat down and joined the conversation. “Heard you talking from the grill. And I’ve got to say, we worry about you two.”
“This is not what we chose, Ron,” confessed Charlie. “We just kinda fell into it out of necessity.”
“I know,” empathized Ron. “I was the
re. Remember?”
“Brother, I will never forget.”
Ron smiled and said, “We do not consider you guys criminals. But when you consider the alternative, what could happen, for example the van thing, and all those people dying...”
He left it uncomfortably hanging in the air, like a chuckle at a funeral.
Lily made an attempt to break the somber moment. “You seem to have made quite a name for yourselves. In certain circles around here.”
“Yes,” Denice replied. “The Network.”
Ron laughed, “You don’t spend time on this mountain and not hear things.”
Charlie forked in some eggs, took a bite from his biscuit, and tried to say something about Indians, but his mouth was too full to enunciate clearly. He swallowed and said, “Sorry man, that was rude.” He wiped his mouth and tried again, “You have an ear to the ground on the reservation?”
“Kind of,” admitted Ron.
“What do the drums tell you?”
“That depends on who’s beating them. There are many facets to the Indian diamond. But generally we don’t involve ourselves. We live in peaceful coexistence.”
“Us, too,” Denice replied.
They all sat in silence for a moment until Lily asked, “So. What happens to the new family?”
“We’re waiting for instructions from the Big Kahuna.”
“You have one of those?” Lily inquired.
“Huge one.”
“No shit.” Ron said.
Charlie confirmed, “That’s the thing about legends, bro. Sometimes they’re true.”
-- -- --
The phone sounded like a fire alarm, bouncing around in Denice’s purse. She went elbow deep into the small hammock and extracted the phone. “It’s Ramona.”
The other adults in the trailer crowded around, except Maria. She was fast asleep on the couch. Baby too, in a custom-made diaper.
“Hi Mona. It’s a girl.”
“Everything went well, I take it?” asked Ramona.
“Very. Except my Big Hunk passed out on the kitchen floor.”
“Men are such a pain in the ass, bless his heart. Did he bruise his pride when he hit the ground?”
“No, he landed on his face.”
“Kiss his boo-boo for me.”
“Savin’ that for later.”
“Okay, let me speak to Santino.” Denice handed the phone to the new father.
“Congratulations, señor.” said Ramona to Santino.
“Gracias,” he replied.
“You’re all set. No questions till you get here. Do exactly as you’re told. Your new friends know what they’re doing. Trust them. Now let me speak to Denice, please.” Santino handed the phone to back to Denice. “Call me at the 405 and Highway 10.”
“Will do. Can’t give you a E-T-A yet.”
“Not a problem.”
“Okay, bye.”
“Bye.”
Outside there was no rain yet, but the air was swollen with humidity. The first light was three hours away, Charlie put on a fresh pot of coffee. Extra strong. “We’ll stay up. Wait for rain. Get past Temecula. Then pass out the rest of the trip.”
“I’m exhausted,” said Denice.
“Me, too, but it feels like rain. I GOT THAT RAINY DAY FEELIN AGAIN,” sang Charlie, poorly.
“Hush-up. You’ll wake the baby,” Denice commanded.
Charlie smiled. “You’re so cute when you’re grouchy.”
WHICH IS JUSTICE AND WHICH IS THE THIEF?
Chapter 25
The sky opened up. Time to run. Trailer Trash Triage was history, and so were they. After packing bags, and good-bye kisses all around, Brandt even woke up at the last minute to say “Elephant,” while pointing at Maria.
They quietly loaded the new family into the K-5 blazer. Charlie unlocked the emergency brake and coasted to the intersection at Old Highway 8.
The rain assaulted the windshield, with the wipers putting up only a vain attempt of keeping it clear. The darkness was almost total as Charlie started the motor.
No words were spoken when they got on Interstate 8, and then merged onto I-15, heading north in complete silence. The tension fogged up the windows, but broke when Denice said, “Look. Lights.”
Those lights were what they feared the most. However, the glow of the checkpoint started to fade, one light a time. They could almost hear the click as each million-watt floodlight turned off, one by one. The Border Patrol had decided to call it a night.
Charlie said, in a very somber and respectful whisper, “Thank-you, Lord.”
Santino and Maria seemed to catch the gist of what was happening, due to the smile on Charlie’s face.
Mother and baby were quiet, the Blazer K-5 rumbled and settled into a purr as they approached the closed checkpoint.
Shakespeare said, “Which is justice and which is the thief?” With every run the line that divided the two became more blurred. Charlie noodled that around inside his head for a moment and decided what he was doing, what he did now for a living, is a good thing. He was justice disguised as a thief. This allowed him to justify his actions so he could focus on the task at hand.
The rain came down as the miles went by. The vibration and whine of the big tires lulled the baby into a peaceful bliss.
-- -- --
Ramona lived in Brentwood, nestled in the hills on the backside of Topanga Canyon and Mulholland Drive, facing the San Fernando Valley. She had given them directions after hitting the 405. Charlie and Denice had never been to her home. They considered it a sign of trust and respect to have been invited, even under these unique circumstances.
“O.J. Simpson’s house is somewhere around here,” Charlie said to himself, loud enough for everyone else to hear.
“Yeah, thanks for reminding me,” said Denice sarcastically.
They found the address and pulled up into a semi-circular driveway that fronted a 1970s ranch-style home, with tongue-and-groove wood siding, and cedar shingle roofing. There was a BMW 750 IL in the open garage, and a red Silverado next to the house.
Charlie said, “That’s a 12-cylinder BMW. Think she’ll let me drive it?”
“Let me think,” mocked Denice. “NO!”
Charlie put the truck in park. Denice opened her door, and Santino, Maria, and the baby sat motionless. Before Charlie could open his door, he noticed there was a very serious man standing three feet from his driver’s side. Charlie got out slowly.
Have you ever wondered what happens to gang bangers who live long enough to sport gray hair? They end up working security. And they do a damn good job of it.
The middle-aged man staring at Charlie’s back wore a gray Brooks Brothers shirt that did not quite cover all his scary tattoos. He also had on pressed gray slacks and highly-polished Armani shoes. A little gray at the temples of slicked back hair topped off his professional look. He was handsome in a severely serious, Secret Service sort of way.
When they shook hands, Charlie noticed the man’s nails were impeccably manicured.
“Charlie.”
“Jorge. Ramona is expecting us.”
“I know.”
Charlie pointed to Denice. “My wife, Denice or Dee for short.”
Jorge’s black eyes looked at Denice and possibly smiled, with no expression on his mouth. “Señora.” He turned his attention back to Charlie, “Señor, do you have a gun?”
“Don’t need one,” replied Charlie without a hint of his trademark sass.
Jorge smiled and asked, “Does señora have one?”
Charlie pointed to his zipper. “Right here.”
Jorge smiled, “I must search you, señora.”
“The fuck you will,” Charlie shot back.
“You can search me. But you will not put your hands on my wife.” Charlie turned to Denice, “Dee, call Mona. Get her out here. Now.”
Ramona emerged from the entryway, in Spanish she said, “Jorge, I told you. It’s okay.”
“Just doing my job, señora.”
“Please, Jorge. Apologize to my guests.”
“No.” In English Jorge said to Charlie, “Just doing my job.”
Charlie smiled and said, “Está bien.”
Jorge’s responsive grin looked a little reptilian, but it was safe to say that all was now good.
“Okay. Now that we have the tough guy stuff out of the way, maybe we can get mama and baby out of the hot car?” asked Ramona rhetorically. She then turned to Denice and added, “Men are such a pain in the ass.”
Once inside the house, Ramona spoke Spanish to Maria. “Oh my, isn’t she adorable?”
“Yes, but she needs a birth certificate,” replied a worried Maria in Spanish.
“All that’s been handled. Your grandfather will be here soon to pick you up. I’ll explain later.”
Santino relayed the whole story to Jorge, ending with, “They saved my baby’s life, I’m sure of it.”
“These gringos?” asked Jorge surprised.
“Those gringos are little Celia’s godparents. Or will be.”
“No shit?” said Jorge looking at Charlie and Denice in a new light.
“No shit,” confirmed Santino.
Ramona slipped $2,500 into Dee’s hand and said, “Put this in your purse.”
“Are you sure?”
“Give Nea $500, and tell her to call me on my new number. We have work. By the way, is she okay with Rudolfo?”
“He’s an ass. But she can handle him.”
“He is loyal, and knows how to keep his mouth shut. Except around certain women.”
“Yes, well. He’s still an ass,” Denice reiterated.
“Very true.”
“Charlie and I are exhausted. We won’t be ready to run for a couple of days. We don’t even know where Woody is.”
Jacumba Connection Page 20