by A. J. Downey
“Well, that was fast,” I muttered. “My ride is already here.”
“Go!” she cried, making a shooing motion with one hand. “Call me tomorrow and tell me all about it!”
“Right, will do!” I let myself out and made my way quickly downstairs and got into the back of the waiting Prius.
I texted Golden that I was on my way home like he'd asked, and let him know I was fairly buzzed from the wine and to hide the whiskey. He LOL’ed back at me and said he’d see me when I got there and no joke, he was waiting at the curb when the car pulled up.
He opened my door for me and before he shut it behind me, he’d bent and kissed me, murmuring against my lips, “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” I said softly, and I had no trouble admitting to myself that it was true.
“Come on,” he said, and, tucking my hand into the crook of his arm, led me to the lobby door. He escorted us to our apartment and as he opened the front door, asked me, “Your place or mine?”
I smiled softly that he still gave me the choice, even this many weeks later and decided that he had more than earned my trust. I think I still surprised him, though, when I said, “Yours.”
He stopped in his living room, right before the hallway and turned to me, searching my face. His hand drifted up and caressed my cheek and I smiled at him, wondering what was wrong. He said to me, his voice rough with emotion, “No offense, Chica, but when I take you to my bed, I’d like for the both of us to be stone-cold-sober.”
I felt my eyes widen in surprise and thought about it for only a half-a-second. I nodded and reached out, putting my arms around his neck and pulling myself to him. I kissed him fiercely and tried to put just how much his proclamation meant to me into it. He kissed me back, hands smoothing over my body through the fabric of my clothing and I shuddered, really wanting it to be skin-on-skin.
“My place works just fine,” I said breathlessly and he picked me up. I gave a little leap, twining my legs around his waist, and let him carry me to my bedroom.
27
Golden…
I was balls-deep in Lys, one arm hooked behind one of her legs so I could get that much deeper, when the pounding started out on our front door.
“Shit!” I put some serious feeling behind the word and looked down into her surprised face. She looked up at me, blinking owlishly, still a little bit tipsy, and a little fear slid behind her eyes.
“Who is that?” she asked and I shook my head and pulled out of her, standing. I pulled the sheet over her and was looking for my pants. We both froze again as the front door opened.
“Golden!” I felt my shoulders drop.
“Jesus Christ, it's Angel,” I muttered.
“Um, might want to stop him from getting back here before he sees me naked,” she said, stifling a giggle. I jumped into the first leg of my jeans, hopping up and down on one foot as I tried to get the other leg on.
“Yeah, Angel! Hold up. Don’t come back here!”
I heard him bite out a curse, low and in Spanish.
“Get dressed, baby.” I leaned over her and kissed her quick before I went out.
“Where’s the fucking fire at?” I demanded.
Angel sighed. “Our sister just got arrested in a drug sweep in the warehouse district.”
“What?” I demanded, dropping heavily onto the arm of my couch.
“Yeah. Manolo’s with social services. They need one of us to take custody.”
“Shit,” I muttered, and Lys stepped out from the hallway.
She took one look at me and demanded crisply, “What’s wrong?”
I didn’t answer; I was still trying to wrap my head around this shit.
I looked at Angel and said what was on my mind, “Man, you can’t take him. You live on a boat.”
“You know I will,” he said defensively, and I shook my head.
“Guys, what’s wrong?” Lys demanded. I turned to her.
“Maria just went up on drug charges, big ones. Trafficking.” I felt sick to my stomach.
“Oh, my god.” Lys’ face sobered instantly. She padded barefoot across the faux wood floor tiles and wrapped her arms around me, pressing my head to her chest as if to protect me. She kissed the top of my head and I hoped and prayed, for the first time in a long time, that she would stay with me, that she might help me, because Maria was looking at hard time and there was no fucking way that Angel and I could put up bail in a case like this. This was probably fucking RICO , a set of United States federal laws that provide for extended criminal penalties for people involved in organized crime. If she was caught packaging drugs, then this was most definitely RICO, and meant bail would be astronomical.
Shit, lawyer fees, alone, were going to wipe us the fuck out. I had some substantial savings, but they were supposed to be for in the event I had a family. You know? I’d always called it a ‘rainy day’ fund and I guess when it rained it poured.
Fuck me.
I let Lys hold me and took strength from it.That was rich. Me, taking strength from her. I pursed my lips and derided myself for even thinking for a minute that she couldn’t be the strong one. Shit. She sure as fuck had gone through more than I had lately.
I took a deep breath and let it out slow, and she stepped back from me, giving me a slight nod. I turned to Angel who had a weird little smile on his face.
“I’ll take him. Where is he?”
“I don’t know, I just know Social Services has him by now. Maria used her one phone call to call me and let me know what’s up. I guess her cleaning job has been a scam for, like, the last eight months. She got fired for some bullshit reason, and rather than ask us for help, she went to work for the Mariana Reyes cartel.”
“Motherfucker,” I swore. “The Ice Queen, herself?”
“Yeah.”
“Will she turn?” I asked.
“Man, you know she does that, she dies.”
“I know she doesn’t, she goes to prison for the rest of her goddamn life.”
“Either way, Manolo grows up without a mother,” Lys said, the sorrow in her voice apparent.
“Right, first things first. Find Manolo and get him out of there. Then I’ll talk to Maria.”
“I’ll get dressed,” Lys said.
“Chica, you don’t have to do this…” I started, but trailed off at her baleful look.
“Yes,” she said intrepidly. “I do.”
“Thanks,” Angel said, cutting off my coming argument with a pointed look.
She kissed my forehead and went back down the hall toward her room. Meanwhile, I had an entire silent conversation with my twin.
I shot him a look, Really?
He rolled his eyes in exasperation and shot me one back that clearly said, Not now.
I scowled. Then when?
He scowled back. When the immediate threat is over.
I rolled my eyes. Fine.
He scowled deeper. Damn right, it's fine. He jerked his chin at the hallway. Now get your ass dressed.
I chuckled, my shoulders bouncing with silent laughter. Sí, Madre.
He flipped me off; no interpretation was needed there. I hauled my ass to my feet and went down to my room to find some real clothes.
I found Lys dressed and ready to go, quietly talking with Angel in the living room when I got out.
“I was just saying we should take a car,” she said, but the light blush across her cheeks said she had been saying anything but. The look Angel was shooting me from behind her back was telling me, Bro, she’s a keeper.
I smiled, I know, at him and nodded. “Looks like I’m gonna have to get a car when all this shit is said and done.” I heaved a heavy sigh, not exactly sure I was ready to become a parent overnight, but one-hundred-percent committed to the fact that I was about to become a full time parent. Over. Night.
Maria, what the fuck were you thinking? I silently asked.
“Come on, let’s go find Manolo. I’m sure he’s terrified,” Lys said and that
galvanized both me and Angel into action.
“Come on, I doubt he’s even been processed into the system, yet.”
At least I knew where to go.
I looked up the address to the building I wanted and pulled up the rideshare app on my phone, punching it in as we went down to the street. We only had to stand around a few minutes before our driver showed up.
The ride went by in a grim silence, made better when Lys threaded her fingers through the spaces between mine. We got out at the department for Manolo’s neighborhood and I ran in to talk to the desk sergeant.
“Do I look like the Department of Health and Welfare?” he demanded.
I scowled at him, and pulled my badge out of my back pocket.
“Do I look like your typical street thug, now?” I demanded.
He got real fuckin’ helpful after that. I didn’t get any nicer. He called around and said after a minute, “Social Services ain’t got him yet. They were on their way here to meet with an officer for an escort to the projects your nephew lives in. According to his ma, he’s staying with a neighbor, his grandma.”
I nodded and said, “Yeah, his dad’s mom.”
“You wanna wait here, the social worker should be comin’ any minute.”
“That’d be great, thanks.”
I went back out front to the street and filled Angel and Lys in on what was what. They followed me back into the lobby. We waited probably half-an-hour more until an official-looking woman in a neat pantsuit walked in, and by the look of her, she screamed Children’s Services.
“You Child Services?” the desk sergeant asked.
“Yes, I’m Donna Williams. Do you have that escort ready?”
“Do you one better,” I said. “You got family and a police escort rolled into one.” I held out my credentials to her and she looked them over.
“You’re the minor child's..?”
“Uncle. This is my twin brother, Ramiro, and this is my live-in girlfriend, Alyssa Glenn.”
“Hi,” Lys said quietly while Angel just gave a respectful nod.
“I see. This is highly unusual,” she said. “I’ve never had family meet me at the police station before, and I’ve been doing this for eighteen years.”
She raised her chin, blue eyes flashing from behind her glasses, and I knew an old battle-axe when I saw one. I could appreciate that, too. It meant she would be looking out for Manolo. Now it was just up to us to convince her that she didn’t have to worry about us, that we were right there with her.
“Who was planning on taking custody of the minor child?” she demanded.
“That would be me,” I said without hesitation.
“I live on a boat,” Angel said with a shrug. “I’m good for a night or two, but stability-wise, Rodrigo and Lys are better set up and equipped.”
“I see…”
Didn’t sound like she did. Let the games begin, first person through the red tape was the winner. Thing was, I saw this for what it was: a marathon, not a sprint.
That woman put all of us through our paces. She expected us to have answers to everything, and any time I even came close to failing to have one of those answers, Lys was right there, like she was some kind of seasoned pro at motherhood, even though she’d never had one of her own. It was like she’d dreamt of it often enough and long enough, she knew how everything was supposed to go. I can’t tell you how much that shit broke me, but at the same time, I also can’t tell you how grateful I was she was here.
Finally, we were allowed to go along with the social worker to get my nephew. Angel had a key to Maria’s place. We all did; I’d just forgotten mine at home. We all stood grim outside his abuela’s door and waited for it to open. When it did, Manolo looked up at all of us and his easy smile fell off his face.
Shit.
The kid knew. He was too smart not to know what was up. The disappointment on his face fuckin’ crushed me, but Lys, once again, saved the day. She knelt down and with a smile said, “Hey, you need to do us a favor and tell your grandma we’re here to get you and that you’re going to be staying with me and your uncle Rodrigo tonight. Okay, bud?”
“Where’s my mom?” he asked, his voice quavering and eyes filling.
“Oh, hey, no, don’t cry, honey, she’s okay. Your mom’s fine. You’re just going to come stay with your uncle Rodrigo and me for a while, that’s all.”
“Where is she?” he demanded.
The social worker heaved a tired sigh and said, “She’s in jail, Manolo. I’m Miss Williams from the Indigo City Department of Family Services. Do you know what that means?”
“You’re gonna put me in foster care?” he demanded.
She shook her head.
“No, we don’t do that when you have family.”
“I’d never let that happen to you, buddy. Never in a million years.”
“Hello, who are you? Oh!” Rita, Manolo’s abuela, his dad’s mother, walked up to the door. Finding four people on her doorstep rather than just the social worker startled her a little.
“Hey, Rita,” Angel said, and she looked taken aback as the wheels and gears turned as to what our presence meant.
“Maria?” she asked, surprised, knowing her son was still locked up.
Everything went off in a flurry of Spanish as we explained what had happened. Rita waved Lys inside with Manolo, but barred the social worker’s way with the flat of her held-up hand. This was the ’hood. You didn’t let anyone official past your door, if you could help it. Lys wasn’t official, so she got the okay.
She returned with Manolo, his backpack, and his coat. Rita, in tears, hugged her grandson and begged us to bring him to see her every once in a while. I told her I didn’t hold anything against her, and absolutely, that we were family, and family didn’t cut each other out or turn our backs, no matter what was up.
The social worker took notes, and even though she was a güera, I guessed that made her all right. She was one of the good ones, as far as I could tell, one of the ones who, despite their insane workload, still cared. There weren’t a lot like her left. I could respect that, even though this time around we were on opposite sides of the tape.
Shit, maybe I was hanging around Chrissy and Yale too much. I was starting to get their lawyer thing.
We left Rita's and went down two floors to Maria’s apartment to pack up a bunch of Manolo’s things. Angel called one of the guys with a car, to get us and the shit moved to my place, and I did some serious thinking. My place wasn’t suited for this long-term, but for now, we could make it work. I shoved that to the back of my mind and tried real hard not to think about it too much.
We got home, we got Manolo to bed, as it was fucking late as hell and the kid had school in the morning, and then I dropped in a heap onto my couch and put my face into my hands and took a minute to feel overwhelmed and to work through that shit. Lys sat down gently on the arm of the couch and rubbed my back through my tee shirt comfortingly.
“You didn’t sign up for this, Chica. I wouldn’t blame you if you bailed.” She smiled but it held hurt which she tried like hell to hide.
“You didn’t sign up to take my problems on, either,” she reminded me, gently.
“Yeah, well, not the same thing.”
“I disagree,” she said. “It’s exactly the same thing.”
I pulled her down into my lap and she wrapped her arms around my neck. Her face was soft and lovely as she let her gaze roam over mine, and I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against hers.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I confessed, and I heard her smile.
“Being an adult is easy when it’s just you; when you bring other people into it, it becomes infinitely harder. Yet for all of the millions and billions of people who have gone before… still, no one has written an instruction manual on how not to be a shitty parent.”
I laughed softly and she kissed me. I kissed her back and took solace in her gentle touches.
“One day at a time, I gues
s.”
“Starting with tomorrow,” she agreed.
“What would you do?” I asked.
“Well, I’ll help get him up and get him to school. I can also go get him from school and watch him until you get home from work. I’ll just rearrange my schedule some.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I said.
“You’re right, I don’t, but I want to.”
“I don’t really know what I would do without you right now.”
“That goes both ways,” she said and she kissed me again.
We curled on the couch together and talked until so late it was early. She had time for a little under three hours of sleep before she had to be awake to take Manolo to school and get to work. I tucked her in, and felt nothing but regret that I couldn’t crawl in there with her. Instead, I took my ass back out to the couch.
I’d made the decision to not rush Manolo into our lives as a couple. He was used to us having our own rooms and I didn’t want to put too much by the way of change onto his small shoulders at once.
I woke up to Lys getting him up for school.
She had him sit at the dining room table and I lay, pretending to be asleep and listened.
“So,” she asked him, “does your mom fix you breakfast in the morning?”
“Sometimes, not all the time.”
“Oh yeah, when she fixes it, what does she make?”
“Pancakes, or French toast.”
“Is that during the week, or only on the weekends?”
“On the weekends.”
“What about during the week?”
“Sometimes she makes me toast and orange juice, most of the time, I just have a bowl of cereal.”
Lys asked all these questions and was an expert at getting the full meal deal out of my kid nephew. She fixed them both oatmeal while she talked and made herself coffee. Manolo was subdued, and pretty cranky over the fact she was making him go to school, but she fielded that one like a pro, too.
After he'd eaten, he walked away from the table, dragging his feet to go in and get dressed mumbling in Spanish. I caught him calling her a bitch and I pursed my lips, giving him a half-second to think he’d gotten away with it, before calling out in Spanish, “Manolo, get that disrespect out of your mouth, little man!”