by Hunter Blain
After a few more rounds of peekaboo, Jose kissed Ana’s soft forehead and crumpled up the paper towel before throwing it in the motion-activated trash can. Jose was grateful for his new employment and wouldn’t let Hector down.
At the thought of the head boss, Jose’s gaze drifted to his wife, who seemed to be having identical thoughts but with a different emotional reaction. He knew she hated his best friend, Martin, for helping Jose get his foot in the door.
“I love you,” Jose stated a little more flatly than he had intended. He was both understanding and frustrated by the resistance his wife projected at his choice of career. But in Mexico — as long as you did as you were told and didn’t skim off the top — it was one of the most lucrative jobs a failed farmer like Jose could possibly hope to get.
“I love you, too,” Isabel returned while continuing to focus on the task at hand.
Jose took in a deep breath while preparing to explain himself, yet again, but decided against it. As the breath was slowly exhaled, Isabel caught the simple action and turned her head. It was only a few degrees, as if trying to better hear something in the distance, but Jose caught it.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Isa,” Jose said, forcing a swelling of love he had borrowed from the joy Ana had flowed into him.
“Be safe,” she said while putting the lemon-scented powder in the stainless steel basin of the dishwasher.
Jose walked by the couch where Julian was engrossed in some cartoon on the TV. He tussled his hair before saying, “You’re the man of the house now, okay? Watch out for your mom and sister.”
“Okay, papa,” Julian promised while never taking his eyes off the screen.
Jose stood a moment longer, watching his son and how much joy a thing like a TV could bring to his young mind. He leaned in and kissed his head, which prompted Julian to bat his head away while giggling and saying, “Gross, papa!”
“Oh, is my boy too big for kisses now? Don’t tell that to the kissy monster!” Jose said in a dramatic voice as he began stomping slowly around the couch while making overdramatic lip puckers.
“NO, PAPA! NO!” Julian giggled while falling over on his side and putting his arms and feet up in a defensive gesture.
Jose leaned his head close as Julian pressed warm, tiny hands against his face and pushed with all his little might. The much larger man continued to simply press his weight down until his pouting lips were plastered into Julian’s plump, red cheeks. Jose began a barrage of loud kisses while his hands tickled his son’s waist. Julian began tittering at a high pitch while yelling, “No! Stop! No kissy monster!”
The proud papa did as commanded, stopping his attack and looking into the eyes of his firstborn.
“I love you, kiddo,” Jose professed with brimming pride.
Julian, sensing the attack was over, tightly wrapped his arms around his loving father while saying, “I love you too, papa! Can you stay home and watch cartoons with me?”
“I’d love to, buddy, but I have to go to work.”
“At the factory?” Julian asked, referencing the explanation Isabel had apparently told their son, who was on the verge of understanding the ways of the world. Maybe it would take him a few more years to fully comprehend, but Jose’s son would decipher the lie little by little.
Jose’s face faltered for a second as he understood why Isabel had lied to their son. “Yeah, buddy. At the factory.”
Not sensing anything was wrong, Julian concluded with, “Okay, papa! Have a good day! Make lots of stuff!”
“Will do, kiddo. Will do.”
Jose rose from the couch and was briefly jealous of how quickly his son became enamored with the images on the screen again, completely ignoring the world around him. Jose wished he could do the same.
Chapter 2
J ose climbed into his old pickup truck, which had been his father’s before it had been passed down the line. Shutting the door, he felt as much as heard the protest of timeworn metal on metal. He was going to buy himself a nice car, like the ones his coworkers liked to parade around town in, guaranteeing the police would never pull them over for something as trivial as speeding.
Yes, Jose was going to reward himself with a fancy new vehicle, and soon, but first, he wanted to sprinkle lavish gifts upon his wife in an attempt to win her favor as well as make her life as easy as possible. He knew being a stay-at-home mom was not as easy as some would make it out to be. Especially when having a newborn less than six months old and a five-year-old boy who was growing restless with his school work.
A smile lifted Jose’s lips and touched his eyes as he thought about how smart his son was.
“Gets that from his mama,” Jose said to himself as he turned the ignition. The engine tried to catch but ultimately failed, prompting Jose to let the ignition fall back to neutral. After a few seconds, he tried again while pumping the gas, and the engine rumbled to life. “Probably the alternator,” Jose said.
One advantage about having a really, really old truck with countless problems was that it vibrated something fierce while driving, giving Jose his own relaxing massage. At least that’s how he chose to perceive the situation.
After placing the truck into drive, Jose set both hands on the steering wheel, which twitched back and forth about a quarter inch around ten times per second. He pressed on the accelerator and was off.
Dirt billowed behind the truck as Jose drove the length from his modest home toward the only road that passed by his ranch. After the tires touched the pavement, Jose pressed harder on the gas while rolling the window down for airflow.
A hand casually turned the switch for the radio and Norteño music began pouring out the treble-heavy speakers. Jose cringed, never understanding why Isabel wanted to “connect with her roots” or whatever she called it. Jose embraced change and the future of possibilities.
With a quick press of a button, the radio jumped to a broadcast.
“. . . several more found dead in the northeast region of Mexico. Government officials are questioning if rival cartel gangs are directly involved. The remains have been described as gruesome and animalistic, signifying a direc—”
Jose pressed another button and the radio once again jumped to a saved station. Modern music began pouring out, causing Jose to immediately start bobbing his head to the rhythm. He just couldn’t wait until the day he would be behind the wheel of something that had bass. When driving with his best friend Martin — because Martin always offered to drive — he was drowned out by bass. Sometimes it seemed to make Jose’s heart skip a beat, and he just didn’t see the appeal of that much low end.
No. Jose’s car would have a premium sound system with a healthy mix across the board. He would enjoy his favorite type of music the way it was meant to be heard.
Jose’s closed-lip grin turned into a toothy smile at the thought as his hands squeezed tighter on the twitching, thin steering wheel. Things were coming together for Jose, and nothing would stop him from giving his family the best life possible.
Within half an hour, Jose had arrived at the house that sat atop a winding hill with a full ten minutes to spare before his shift was to start. He pulled around to the back and parked, noting that Martin’s sports car wasn’t there yet. Jose shook his head, knowing his friend wouldn’t show up even a minute early. He was never late, but he was also never early.
Activating his phone, Jose began perusing the local car dealerships’ inventory, in search of the vehicle that would change his and his family’s life forever. He didn’t know exactly what he wanted, but he knew he would know it when he saw it.
Jose pressed the SUV tab, knowing that with a growing family a larger vehicle would be ideal. Plus, they were safer on the road in case of an accident. If he were also to be honest with himself, it was also a symbol of status. He didn’t care if people knew he was successful as much as he wanted himself to know. Something about the idea of walking through the grocery store parking lot and seeing a custom SUV towering over the ot
her vehicles made goose bumps bubble on Jose’s skin.
An alarm on Jose’s phone went off, signaling that he had five minutes until the start of his shift. He pulled himself away from the screen and opened the protesting door of his ancient truck. Before sliding out, Jose leaned over to the glove compartment and pulled out a bag of beef jerky. Selecting two sizable pieces, he resealed the bag and returned it to the glove box before stepping out on the driveway. Once outside, he gave the driver’s side a good slam to make sure it closed all the way before making his way up the asphalt driveway, his boots clicking with every step.
The sun beamed down, making Jose begin to perspire lightly.
Two pit bulls with trimmed ears and shortened tails came sprinting full force at Jose from somewhere around the house.
Jose dropped to his knees with his arms outstretched and a huge smile on his face as the puppies skidded to a halt and began viciously attacking his face with an unrelenting barrage of big, slobbery kisses.
“Hey, Tom. Hey, Jerry,” Jose said between fits of laughter as huge tongues tickled his neck and slapped his face. Jose had always loved the irony of their names.
Both excited dogs slowed their movements as their muzzles began sniffing the air.
“Ah! You found the treats, huh, boys?” Jose asked playfully as he took a piece of beef jerky in each hand and held them out to the dogs he called “puppies.” With wagging bottoms, they snatched up the meat and chewed enthusiastically, shifting the dried beef around in their mouths before swallowing with apparent doggy grins on their faces.
After a few moments of scratching around their big faces and behind their ears, Jose stood up, much to Tom and Jerry’s dismay. Each took turns jumping to reach Jose’s face with one last puppy kiss.
With a grin, Jose said, “O-ho-ho-kay, fellas. I need to get to work.” Tom and Jerry both stopped jumping but continued to wag their butts in excitement with large tongues bobbing from grinning mouths.
Jose knocked on the door using the code he had been given when he’d first started. Someone approached, and the light coming from the peephole was cut off for a moment as someone from the current shift looked at who was at the door.
There were three clicks of locks unlatching, and the door opened. Jose entered and waved at the two men in the living room. One was counting down his stacks of cash and weighing the remaining product while writing down numbers on a sheet of paper. That would be confirmed by Jose before being dropped into the safe. His sole purpose was to drive around and confirm the inventory, money, and the shift change sheets. Two black Glock pistols sat at the ready on the table.
This is the life, Jose thought to himself, having aspirations of climbing up the ladder as long as it didn’t involve directly hurting anyone. One of the lieutenants for General Miguel had interviewed Jose and asked him what he was willing to do. Jose had hesitantly told the man that he didn’t ever want to do any of the enforcing. He was more of a numbers guy. Though somewhat disappointed, the lieutenant had informed Jose that the organization was large enough that all manner of employees were needed, ranging across the spectrum in terms of skill sets. Someone growing up using their fists probably didn’t have the affinity for spreadsheets, formulas, and algorithms that had always fascinated Jose in school.
Jose mentally thanked his father for ensuring he went to the best school that they could afford. Though it had been nowhere near the nicest, he had had access to computers and had learned a great deal about technology.
“Hey, Jose. Come check this, man,” said Cristian, who was finishing his counts.
Jose sat on the couch next to him and quickly reviewed the numbers. After doing so, he looked at the digital scale with the block of white powder before returning his focus to the numbers written down. With a, “Mm-hmm,” of confirmation, Jose picked up the stack of bills and began methodically counting them. After counting the stack two more times, he set the money down and signed off on the sheet.
“Damn, guys. Good night tonight, huh?” Jose admired as he looked at the numbers.
“Far from the record, but yeah, man. Was a good night,” Cris confirmed.
“Wonder why?”
“No idea, bro,” Cris admitted before asking, “Where’s Martin?”
At that, Martin’s sloppy knock code rang out.
“On time as usual,” Jose said as he looked at the numbers on the screen of his phone.
The door opened and Martin stepped in. He was wearing a brand-new cowboy hat while holding an identical one in his hands. As he walked into the living room, he tossed the hat to Jose, who caught it with a questioning expression on his face.
“National Cowboy Day, didn’t ya hear?” Martin beamed.
“There’s . . . no such thing?” Jose responded while looking at the big bone-colored hat. Martin took a step forward, snatched the hat from Jose’s hands, and quickly slapped it on top of his head, finishing with a quick pat on top to secure it in place.
“Like a glove, cowboy,” Martin announced as he looked at the two other men in the room for confirmation. Cris shrugged while the other guy, whose name Jose hadn’t learned yet, just shook his head in mild disbelief.
“Everything in order?” the other man asked Cris.
“Yeah, we’re good.”
“Cool. See you guys later.”
“See ya,” Jose said as he licked closed and then dropped the envelope containing the cash and inventory sheet in the large safe. The hat felt tight across his skull, giving him a slight headache.
As he sat on the couch, he tilted the hat up with his thumb and relieved some of the pressure.
Martin plopped down next to him as the muffled sounds of car doors sounded from outside. Tom and Jerry barked up a storm as Cris and that other guy left.
“So what’s up, compadre?” Martin asked jovially. “Isa still giving you the cold shoulder or what?”
“It’s . . . it’s getting better,” Jose said as much to Martin as himself.
“Gotten laid lately?” Martin asked with bouncing eyebrows.
Jose looked down and flushed a little, uncomfortable at the level of information Martin was digging for. Best friend or not, there were some things Jose didn’t like discussing in any sort of detail.
“Eeeeehhhhh, I’m just playing, brother,” Martin said while leaning over to lightly elbow Jose several times in the ribs. “But seriously, have you?”
“She just had a kid. She’ll be ready when she’s ready,” Jose answered with a touch of annoyance.
“Six months ago, man! Six! You should be ready to slide up in that thing as if it were brand new at this point.”
Quickly changing the subject, Jose asked, “How’s the car?”
Taking note of the segue, Martin’s smile grew a tad as he poured with pride about his car, “Great, man! I’m surprised you didn’t hear it come up the drive!”
“Was focusing on the counts. You know—”
“Yeah, yeah. I know how important they are,” Martin interrupted. “That’s why I let you get here first. You’re all good with the ‘numbers’ and stuff,” Martin said with air quotes, though Jose didn’t know why. “Anyway, when are you gonna get you a nice ride? I saw that collection of sheet metal and bolts in the driveway. How you keep that thing together is beyond me, man.” As he spoke, he shifted one leg up and under his butt while placing an arm down the back of the couch.
“Hey, boots off the couch,” Jose said while smacking his friend’s leg.
“Okay, papa,” Martin said facetiously while kicking his leg out to rest on the coffee table. Jose sighed inwardly but decided the wooden coffee table was a more suitable place for boots than a leather sofa; the lesser of two evils.
Martin leaned back and took in a deep breath before letting out a loud, obnoxious yawn.
“These shifts come too early, man.”
“It’s five in the afternoon,” Jose returned. “Five to five. Pretty easy shift if you ask me.”
“Eh, wake me up whenever someone
comes to get somethen,” Martin instructed as he rearranged himself into the corner of the couch and lowered his huge hat over his face like cowboys did in the movies.
Jose didn’t protest. Instead, he pulled up his phone and began searching for his next vehicle.
A text came in from Isabel that said, “I love you.” Funny how three simple words could evoke such a tidal wave of love in his chest. Adding a single word, Jose responded with, “I love you, too.”
Chapter 3
H eavy footfalls slowly thudded just outside the door, prompting Jose to open one eye and lazily let it roam around the room. With all the traffic that came in and out of the house, Jose would have usually let his consciousness stay just under the waves during his well-deserved nap, but these steps were duller — heavier — than the usual sharp staccato of boots on pavement.
A hiss reminiscent of a can of compressed air being opened and closed intermittently prompted the other eye to swing open as his brows knitted together. It was dark outside, and he wondered when he had drifted off.
Jose looked around then, letting his feet fall from the coffee table to the carpeted floor as he scanned the ample living room. Searching eyes washed over the wall of hanging leather leashes, nagging at Jose.
With a quick backhand, Jose attempted to rouse his best friend sitting on the other end of the couch, still asleep.
“Martin. Hey, Martin, wake up,” Jose whispered.
The man in the green flannel shirt whined as he dramatically pushed his cowboy hat back on top of his head.
“What, man? The hell is it?” Martin said loudly through a yawn.
There was another chuff from outside at the noise, and Jose scooted the distance between them and placed his hand on Martin’s mouth.
“Shh. There’s something outside.”
Martin’s eyebrows attempted to flee the situation by reaching for his hairline.