by P D Miller
Gonzalo drove out to a truck stop, and for over an hour they reminisced about their time spent in Iraq. Ben had eaten and now leaned back while the waitress refilled their cups and took his empty plate. He fingered his water glass and glanced up at Gonzalo. “How long has Missy been deaf?”
Gonzalo’s eyes shot up. “Did she tell you?”
“No, I asked some questions to her back a couple of times and she didn’t answer.”
“I didn’t think she’d tell you. She tries to hide—”
“How long Gonzalo? And why?”
“Three years. She was seventeen and got hurt.” Gonzalo started shaking nervously.
“Just like that? One day she could hear and the next she couldn’t?”
“Yeah, she had a concussion. The doctor says she has a kind of amnesia. For some time we—we used to hope—” Gonzalo looked away. “She was very depressed and wouldn’t go back to school. Spent a long time in a hospital too.” He shook his head. “It was harder for her because of her age. She couldn’t face everyone knowing and tried to hide it. We finally had to send her to a special school.”
“Does she just lip read or can she use sign language?”
“Lip reads, uses her fingers and signs.”
“As long as she can see what a person says, she does fine too.” Ben gulped some coffee.
“Yeah, but before it happened she had her heart set on college—wanted to become a teacher. Afterwards she just gave up. We don’t ever talk about it now.”
“No reason she can’t live a normal life.”
“Try telling her. She won’t go out and meet people.”
Ben looked down at the table. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw her.” He chuckled. “I still pictured her skinny and tom-boyish.”
“She grew up.” Gonzalo smiled.
“And filled out in all the right places.” Ben grinned.
“Now just a damn minute!” Gonzalo’s eyes flared with instant rage. “You’re talking about my baby—”
“Ah, shut up big mouth. I just meant she’s beautiful as hell.” Ben reached for his billfold. He opened it and held up the picture of Missy he’d carried since Gonzalo gave it to him five years before.
“You still have it?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Don’t know, never thought about it.”
“I’ll be damned! Did you tell her who—but of course, she’d recognize the name.”
Ben shook his head. “I just told her Ben. I told your mother Spinelli, but she didn’t seem to remem—”
“Mom wouldn’t remember. She was too busy chasing a houseful of teenage boys.” Gonzalo grinned. “Man, wait until I tell Melissa who brought her home.”
“Yeah.” Ben stiffened. “I’d better get back. Got to get this damn truck down to Harlingen today.”
“Yeah, and I’ve got to get home.” Gonzalo rose and reached in his pocket, but Ben threw several bills on the table ahead of him.
Most of the drive back was quiet with each man lost in private thoughts. Ben finally turned to Gonzalo. “You said you have six trucks but you’re paying for eight—”
“Run of bad luck.” Gonzalo had a glint of anger in his eyes.
“Accidents?”
“No.” Gonzalo glanced at Ben. “Two of my trucks were confiscated by the DEA. They found coke in them.”
“Coke? Damn Gonzalo, I never thought you’d—”
“I’m not running drugs man; someone planted it or something. I don’t know what the hell happened. Either, I was set up or it’s one of my customers.” He sighed heavily as they pulled up in front of Ben’s motel room. “Anyhow I contacted the DEA and asked for help. Don’t know what else to do. It sure put a dent in our business.” He forced a smile.
“Come in the room a minute.” Ben opened the car door.
“Nah man, I’d better go. Look, give me a call before you leave; my mom wants—”
“I said come in a minute. I want to show you something.”
“Have it your way.” Gonzalo followed Ben into his room. Ben waited until the door was shut. “Now what is so all fired important for—”
“Look behind Missy’s picture.” Ben threw his billfold at Gonzalo and sat in a chair.
“I’ll be damned! So you aren’t a trucker after all. DEA sent you down here?” Gonzalo dropped in a chair.
“I volunteered.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t think you’d be running drugs either, not after how it affected you in Iraq when Rodriguez overdosed.”
“Rodriguez. He sure opened my eyes.”
“No one but you is to know about me.”
“How come you told me?”
“You told me you weren’t running stuff; I believe you.”
“Okay, so what’s the plan?”
“Now I’ve got work to do. You need to hire me, so I can go the rounds and find out who’s planting the stuff.” Ben turned and looked at Gonzalo. The muscles in his cheeks rippled.
“We’re a family company, Charger.” Gonzalo raked his fingers through his hair. “Ain’t no way my pop and brothers will go for hiring an outsider.”
“Not even an old buddy from Iraq?”
“Nope, we all own equal shares. I can’t hire an outsider without approval. Besides, there’s no reason with work going so slow.”
Ben strode over to a chair and dropped on it. “How about if I buy into the company?”
“Buy into it?”
“Look in the briefcase.” Ben pointed.
Gonzalo went to the briefcase and opened it. A low whistle came from deep in his chest.
“You said the business is in trouble. If someone outside’s planting the stuff, it may be what their shooting for—you know wanting you to fold. But if an old buddy happens along who’s willing to invest—”
“I don’t know.” Gonzalo shook his head. “I guess I could talk to the family and see—” Conscious of Ben’s eyes watching his every move, it occurred to him Ben still might not be sure of his innocence, and flashing all the money might be a test. Also, he might have made the scene at the house over Missy because of his job. He’d said he recognized Missy right off, didn’t he? As much as Gonzalo wanted to trust Charger, he was still not sure of him. Snapping the briefcase shut, Gonzalo turned back to Ben. “Look, you go ahead and make your run to Harlingen and call me when you’re finished. In the meantime, I’ll talk to them. I don’t think they’ll go for it, but I’ll talk to them.”
Chapter Three
Two days later Ben called Gonzalo. They met in Ben’s motel room in the evening.
“So?” Ben held the door, as Gonzalo walked in.
Gonzalo shook his head. “No way. I got negative all around.”
“So much for plan A.” Ben shrugged and dropped in a chair.
“And plan B?”
“Hell, I don’t know. I was still working on plan A.” He grinned. “Okay, no one but your brothers and father work for the company right?”
“And Tony’s wife, Missy some. It’s all family.”
“Okay, so like it or not I have to consider each as suspect.” He chewed his thumb. “And the best way to find out how it’s planted is to follow a truck being loaded.” Ben tiredly ran his hand across the back of his neck and rubbed it. “I could try and buy out each one of your brothers, but it would make everyone mad and take a hell of a long time. Besides, eventually someone would catch on. Who’s your biggest competition?”
“Garcia Trucking. Why?”
“And the packers you use?’
“Only B & D and Martinez Shipping will chance us now. The others backed down after we lost the second load and truck.
“Did Garcia Trucking think you were crowding them?”
“Maybe. He hires out for drivers where ours are all in the family. It often allows us to underbid. We might have made him feel a little crunch, but hell, it wasn’t intentional. Besides, Pop and old man Garcia have known each other for years and Eduar
do’s sweet on Missy.”
“Eduardo?” Damn, why did Gonzalo have to mention Missy when he’d managed not to think of her for five whole minutes.
“Garcia’s son.”
“By sweet on Missy, what do you mean?” Ben’s stomach twisted in a knot. What the hell was wrong with his insides right now? “Is it marriage sweet?”
“Who the hell knows? The guy’s always at the house. He asked for her hand, but Missy ignores him. Since the—her accident—” Gonzalo swallowed hard. “Missy hasn’t wanted to see any guys.” He cocked his head toward Ben when he thought he saw a grin. “What have you got in your evil mind?”
“Going to the other side maybe.” Ben rose and walked to the window. “The only problem with it is, you need to be back in the running to put a squeeze on whoever—” Ben threw his hands up in the air and shook his head. “You Mexicans are just like us Italians.”
“What do you mean?”
“Family oriented.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Anyone not family’s an outsider; the businesses are run by families.” He turned to Gonzalo with a grin and shook his head. “Italians are the same way.”
“Oh and you?”
“I’m fighting the system.”
“Meaning?”
“I don’t want to sit in an office across the hall from my father.”
“Yeah well, the rich can afford to protest. It takes all of us to keep food on the—damn!”
“Damn?”
“I forgot Mom wanted me to bring you to the house.”
“Your mother? Why?”
Gonzalo grinned. “She fell for the little show you put on, says you can’t be all bad.” Gonzalo rose. “Come on I’ll take you over to meet the family. Maybe we’ll figure out something in the meantime.”
Ben needed to find a way to get into the company. It was the only way. If he was in no position to do any pushing, he’d never find out who was planting the coke. He looked around the Sanchez house. If a brother was running coke, he must not live here. And if a brother was into drugs, he’d be doing it even more during rough times. Unless he was running scared. But this family showed no signs of prosperity. On the contrary, the trucks looked like they were kept running by promises and bailing wire. He’d bet not all six were running at one time. And how a dozen people could live in this small house amazed him. His room at home was bigger than the ground floor. Someone must have been threatened by their company. The Garcias? Long time family friends? Ben shook his head. Maybe he could use his charm and bring the family around to let him buy into the company. All the neighbors were watching. Ben could feel eyes on him. Why did it bother him?
“See Pop, I told you he’s a giant.” Ricardo grinned as Missy’s family peered through the window and watched Ben and Gonzalo come up the walk.
“Pop, guys, this is Charger, a friend of mine from Iraq.” Gonzalo held open the door as Ben stooped and entered with a smile. “Charger this is Tony, then Pedro and Luis twins, Marco there, Paulo and Juan also twins, Jose there and this is the runt Ricardo.” Gonzalo turned. “Where’s Mom and Missy?”
“Went to visit some lady.” Ricardo stared at Ben. “Man how tall are you?”
“Seven feet.” Ben smiled.
“Did you play basketball?”
“Nope—a little football but no basketball.”
“What position?”
“Huh?”
“In football, what position did you play?”
“Ricardo, enough! Have a seat Mr.—” Mr. Sanchez pointed to a chair.
“Spinelli, Ben Spinelli.”
“Yes, right, Mr. Spinelli. How come he calls you Charger?”
“It’s just a nickname.” Ben glanced around.
“Because he always charged into things the rest of us were afraid to check out. Man, he almost got killed several times and saved my life.”
“Did you kill any people?” Ricardo smiled.
“Ricardo—”
Ben smiled. “Nobody likes killing or talking about it.”
“Have a beer.” Gonzalo handed him a tall bottle his brother brought.
“Thanks.” Ben glanced around the room and met the cold stares of seven pairs of eyes. Only Ricardo looked the least bit friendly. Even Mr. Sanchez looked mad about something. And he thought maybe he could buy his way into the company? No way! What the hell could he do now? The house didn’t need an air conditioner with the frigid messages all those eyes sent him. Ben took a second swallow of beer.
“You sure have a neat truck. Brand new isn’t it?”
“It was a month ago. Big bill too.”
“You don’t look like a trucker.” Marco glared.
“Yeah well, I’m new at it. My father got on my case to settle down.” Ben tried to choose his words carefully.
“Just been playing around the last four years?” Mr. Sanchez’s eyebrows rose.
Ben felt his face color. “No I’ve tried several things. Just haven’t found the one I want to do the rest of my life.”
“Most men work the rest of their lives, and what they want has nothing to do with it.” Mr. Sanchez glanced at his sons.
“You’re right.” Ben felt his ears burn as anger rose in his chest. So they send Missy off to some damn school she doesn’t want to attend?
“You go to college?” Paulo broke into his thoughts.
“Yeah, after I got back from Iraq.”
“Gonzalo’s been going too.”
“Yeah?” Ben took another swallow of the now warm beer. Talk about the third degree. Silence was heavy. “Look.” His eyes darted around the room. “Why don’t you just go on and say whatever’s bothering you.” He put the bottle down and rubbed his hands together.
“You mess with Melissa and you’re a dead man.” Pedro swiped his hand across the front of his neck with a slashing motion.
“Nobody gets hurt a sec—”
“Cool it.” Gonzalo frowned.
“Yeah well—” Ben rose. “Gonzalo, I think I’d better go.” He clamped his jaw shut until the muscles rippled in his cheeks and turned to Mr. Sanchez. “It was nice meeting you, sir.” Turning he glanced at the others. “Nice meeting all of you.” He turned toward the door.
“Oh my, Mr. Spinelli. I’m so glad Gonzalo brought you over.” Mrs. Sanchez came in with a bright smile.
“Uh—I was just leaving.”
“Oh my, but you can’t. Gonzalo get your friend a beer—Poppa offer him a—” She turned and faced Missy. “Oh Melissa look who’s here. Mr. Spinelli, the nice man who—”
“Spinelli?” Missy’s eyes opened wide.
“Yeah Mis—Melissa, Charger Spinelli, your pen pal!”
“You’re Charger?” Missy swallowed hard. “Oh my!” She started shaking all over, turned pale and raced upstairs.
“What did I do?” Ben looked startled. So did Gonzalo.
“Pen pal?” Mr. Sanchez blinked.
“She wrote to us while we were in Iraq—ah you see—Charger wasn’t getting any mail. One time he asked if he could read one of my letters—”
Ben’s face colored. “He asked Missy to write to me.”
“Isn’t anyone going to introduce me?” A young man with a definite glare in his eyes stood by the door.
“Uh—oh, this is Eduardo Garcia, he’s a friend of the family.” Mrs. Sanchez smiled.
“I’ve spoken for Melissa.” The guy glared at Ben.
“Spoken?” Ben’s eyes questioned. A surge of jealousy streaked through him. Instantly he hated the guy and wanted to deck him.
“As soon as her father gives permission, I’ll marry her.”
“Oh.” Ben glanced at Gonzalo. “Man I’d better—”
“No!” Mrs. Sanchez stood in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips. Angrily she looked around and tapped a toe. “One of you bozos get up and get this man a beer. He’s your brother’s friend, remember? And he very nicely brought Melissa home when she was stranded out on the highway. Just because he’s Italian and doesn’t know our
customs doesn’t give you the right to be rude.” One of the boys rose and headed for the kitchen. Three others excused themselves to go out and work on a truck. “You will stay for dinner Mr. Spinelli, and I apologize for my sons’ terrible behavior.” She glared at those still left. “Gonzalo, go upstairs and tell Melissa I want her help in the kitchen. Mrs. Sanchez turned and stalked off. Pedro came out of the kitchen with a beer and handed it to Ben.
“Thanks.” He forced a smile.
“Need to get more beer Pop. I’ll be right back.”
“Here.” Ben quickly pulled out his billfold and handed him a couple of bills. Pedro hesitated. “I insist, since your mother’s going to give me dinner.”
“How much?”
“Whatever you can get with it. Do you need more?”
“No this is plenty.” Pedro glanced at his father, shrugged and walked out.
“I’d better be getting home, Pop.” Tony rose. “Nice meeting you Spinelli.”
“Yes, you too.” Ben watched Tony leave. Feeling totally out of place and noticing some pictures on the mantle, he walked over and looked closer. “Is this Missy?” He saw a bright little thing about three with a pug nose.
“She don’t like to be called Missy since—”
Gonzalo cut in. “I know you heard me call her Missy, but never to her face.”
“I see.” Ben smiled when he saw a picture of himself with Gonzalo and a couple of other guys. But his smile didn’t take away a deep sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Every time they mentioned her accident, he felt sick for some reason. He shook his head.
“What’s wrong?” Gonzalo asked.
“You’ve got so many brothers I’m thoroughly confused.” Ben lied and then grinned. “Your mother sure can handle you though.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Missy slip downstairs and go to the kitchen. Her father rose and followed her. Ben felt more uncomfortable than ever. He glanced to his right and saw Eduardo still staring at him with cold eyes. Ricardo was lost in some program on television. “The guys said they were going, to work on a truck. Serious problems?”
“Seems like all of them are having serious problems. I tell you ‘lady luck’ sure hasn’t been around this family lately.”