by Manuel Ramos
She licked her lips. “Yeah. Guess so.”
I left Ana Domingo in her clean, efficient and expensive apartment with photographs of her brothers on the walls and a gun on her bookshelf. I never saw the inside of that apartment again.
It was almost time to level with Luis. Almost. Patience, Gus. Patience.
34 [Luis]
y volver, volver, volver a tus brazos otra vez
Maxine Corral’s wedding happened on the hottest day in July, which made it the hottest day of that summer. Sweat trickled down my back. The collar of my blue, purple, red and green shirt was soaked. Max had decreed that all guests had to wear Hawaiian Aloha shirts (or no cake!) to the celebration. I splurged on a one hundred percent cotton genuine vintage camisa that set me back a hundred bucks. That kind of extravagance was unusual for me now that I was on a rigidly fixed income. ¡Órale! How often does someone get married for the first time?
The parrots, ferns and palm trees imbedded on my shirt felt right at home in Corrine Corral’s back yard. The grass hadn’t burned yet, despite watering restrictions, the last of the summer flowers were still in bloom and the deep ocean blue sky almost gave me a headache, it was so bright. I’d drunk more than a few of Corrine’s homemade concoction that went by the name of Jungle Juice or Purple Passion, depending on who was talking, and so I felt at home myself, sweat or no sweat.
I sat in the middle of the party, using my Panama straw for shade. Around me, assorted people, all much younger than I, talked, danced, drank and ate. Dogs and kids ran in circles and occasionally one or the other bumped into my lawn chair. The four-piece band blasted from the far corner of the yard, under a white tent. The musicians wore their own Hawaiian shirts and cowboy hats, as well as huge smiles. Each had a beer bottle close by. They played a ranchera, then an oldies rock tune, then a country swing. I knew the words to most of the songs. The semi-sweet smell of legal marijuana, illegally smoked outside, drifted and mixed with the other smells of the reception: barbecue ribs, hamburgers, green chile, sweaty people. Corrine stood by the silver tub where she doled out glasses of her dangerous mix.
That morning I’d told her that I could kiss her for bringing Gus into my world. She kissed me on the cheek and said, “Te dije.”
I looked retired, I felt retired. I also felt hot but the alcohol content of Corrine’s magic mixture made the temperature irrelevant to my overall mood. I was on inactive attorney status with the state supreme court. Clients no longer called to ask “a quick question or two.” My old office had been taken over by a pair of look-alike millennials who developed phone apps and had already made more money in a few months of business than I’d made my entire career as a lawyer. Rosa and I shared dinner several nights a week, as well as a few other things.
Life was good.
Jackie O walked over in an orange and teal sarong. Apparently she didn’t have to wear an aloha shirt since she was the official person who performed the wedding ceremony. She did wear a huge lilac-colored hat that covered her face and hung down her back. A white gardenia peeked out from under the brim just above her left ear.
“Luis Móntez!” she squealed. “It’s been ages.” I smiled up at her. Marijuana smoke clung to her like the spider webs building up on the filing cabinets in my garage. “Where’s that no-good partner of yours, Gus?” I pointed in the direction of the mountains. Gus was somewhere in the party.
Jackie sat down on top of a cooler. She waved her hand in front of her face. “Damn, it is hot today, no?”
“Oh yeah. What you gonna do, eh?”
For some reason that made her laugh. I chalked it up to the grass in her system. I thought for a second. “You doing okay these days? You working?”
She laughed again. Yeah, it was the grass. “Funny you should ask. I just stumbled into something new. The Safe and Healthy Initiative for Kids. SHIK. Helping kids is so chic, you get it?”
I smiled but I didn’t get it. My brain wasn’t working very hard.
“It’s a shelter, resource center for children of addicts, abused kids, sick kids. We provide support, health care, community education. I do everything from answering phones at the main office to a lot of the bookkeeping. I track donations and do some fundraising. I’m going to organize a costume ball to help launch the project in style. It’s right up my alley. I finally feel right about a job. It’s all good.” She paused. “Yeah, all good.”
“I hope this works out for you.”
“Thanks. We have a long ways to go. It’s all about money, right? We don’t have any, but we’re working hard. We’ll get there, somehow.”
“You’re not bartending anymore, then?”
“Not if I can help it. I hate drunks, know what I mean?”
I nodded, but since I was drunk I didn’t think I should actually agree.
“Did I ever thank you for that Dynamic-Tec thing?”
“Yes, you did. Worked out okay?”
“I got a letter the other day from the district attorney. That guy, Younger? The one we met with? He said Cristelli’s closed down. Facing about a dozen charges for his theft of private information, bribery, fraud, that kind of stuff. I’ll have to testify. Looking forward to that. I’ll stare that jerk right in the face and let him have it.”
“Sounds good, Jackie. Sounds real good.”
Jackie floated away, humming to herself. I had an overwhelming desire for some of Corrine’s ribs smothered with her green chile. Before I could make my move to the food table, Gus sat down where Jackie had been.
“I need to talk with you,” he said. He looked agitated—not the emotion I expected from the bride’s brother.
“Sure. But if it’s work, save it. I think I had one too many glasses of whatever it is that Corrine puts in that tub.”
“It’s not exactly work. But it is important. Can you focus?”
He looked around the yard, pulled his chair closer to mine.
“Yeah, sure. I’m all yours for the next five minutes.” Gus wanted to be heard by only me. With the band playing full tilt and the boisterous crowd reaching the peak of its partying mood, I doubted anyone could hear what we said to each other. Corrine told me during the ceremony that Gus was moving out. He’d saved enough money for a security deposit on an apartment in the Edgewater area, west of Sloan’s Lake. And he’d bought a car. Coupled with his new business, Gus Corral looked and acted like a reborn man.
“Congrats on everything, by the way. Corrine told me about your new ride and your move. Glad that you saved your money. Leaving the Northside?”
“There is no more Northside.”
“Not like it was, for sure. Change happens. At least you can afford to move now.”
“About that. You need to know something. I should have told you a while back, but I wanted to wait, to make sure.”
“Make sure about what?”
“That the whole thing with Contreras and the money is really over.”
“Yeah, it’s over. Been over for a few months. Contreras is gone, and with him, all the bullshit he brought. The money was never found. That’s all done, Gus. What is it that’s bothering you? What should you have told me?”
He squirmed in the lawn chair and pulled it even closer to me. “Uh. It’s like this. Uh, the money, it was in the, uh, storage unit.”
“What are you talking about? You and I made that up, to trick Contreras. We wanted to flush him out of hiding and acting like we were going after his money was the best way to do that. That was your idea. It was a good one.” It might have been the booze, or my lightheadedness from too much sun, but Gus’ words didn’t make sense. I couldn’t understand why he said what he said.
“Yeah, that was our plan. But it was based on a reality. You remember that I visited the storage unit early on? Right after María went missing? I searched her house and found the key, along with some other papers?”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I followed up. Put two and two together to get to Alpine Security, like we told the others th
at we’d done. Only, it was just me back then.”
“You did this without letting me in on it?”
“I didn’t know what was going on. I didn’t want to cause any trouble for you. So I checked it out myself. One weekend I drove up to Frisco, opened the box and found the money.”
“You found the money in the security unit? It really was there?”
“Yes. I didn’t want to leave it there for Contreras to find. So, I threw the money into two big trash bags and loaded them in the car. The money’s been in Corrine’s basement ever since.”
“Jesus!” I almost fell off the lawn chair. “How could you do that, Gus? What’s wrong with you?”
He waved his hands to get me to tone down the volume. “Easy, Luis. It’s not as bad as you think.”
“Screw you.” I stood up. “I think that’s it for us, Gus. I can’t trust you.”
“You firing me?” That was the second time he’d asked that question. I hoped it was the last.
“You don’t work for me anymore or I would.”
From over Gus’ shoulders I saw Corrine looking at us. The look on her face couldn’t have been as worried as mine.
Gus stood up and grabbed my shoulders. I tried to jerk away but he had me in his grip. Words rushed out of his mouth. “Luis. Listen. I didn’t do anything with the money. I’ve been waiting. I think I’ve waited long enough. The money’s yours. You figure out what happens to it. I don’t care. I just know I don’t want it. That’s why I’m telling you this.”
I sat back down. He stood over me.
“You want to give . . .” I mumbled. “How much was in the unit?”
Now he sat down. Corrine went back to serving drinks. “Not all of it, of course. At least, not as much as Batista said there should be. Nine hundred thousand, give or take. That’s why I could carry it out in two plastic bags. Wherever María hid the rest, we’ll never know. It’s all yours. You can give it to the feds or Batista, or Rosa for that matter. I just know I don’t want it.” He stood up again. “One thing. Full disclosure. I used a thousand dollars for a security deposit on my new place. I’ll pay you back, a payment every month.” I had a hard time coming up with the right words to respond. “Whenever you want it,” he said, “let me know. We’ll figure out how to move it. It’ll be here until then.” He waited for a response. I managed a weak nod of my head. Gus slowly walked to Corrine, where he helped himself to a glass of the purple drink.
It took a few minutes to get my bearings. Jackie O danced near the band with a young man whose face was flushed from trying to match Jackie step for step.
I strolled to the tub where Corrine and Gus talked.
I leaned in close to Gus. “Jackie. Her charity.”
“Okay,” he said. I returned to my seat in the summer glare.
I stared into the sun. The music at my back vibrated my chair. The newlyweds Maxine and Sandra sang at the top of their lungs—“Y volver, volver, volver a tus brazos otra vez . . .” I heard children laughing and dogs barking and my heart pounding.
I looked over the crowd until I saw Rosa standing near the singing sweethearts. I wobbled to her side and grabbed her hand. She clung to me like frosting on a wedding cake.
“I saw you with Gus,” she said. “What was that about?”
“María Contreras, if you can believe that. Some final details. But it’s all over now.”
“I guess I was wrong. He worked out, didn’t he?”
“I don’t want to talk about Gus Corral.”
She kissed me and I kissed back. All around us I imagined kissing couples and I didn’t feel like an idiot.
“You know what,” I said when we came up for air. “Now’s a good time for a vacation.”
“I’m for that,” she shouted. “Where we going?”
“How about La Paz, Mexico? I hear the fishing is great.”
35 [Gus]
quiero que sepas, que yo reconozco, que tuve la culpa
Corrine’s mad mix of alcohol hit me as soon as I swallowed it. My system wasn’t used to it. I stood immobile as I listened to the music and thought over my conversation with Luis.
The guy treated me like a brother. A troublemaker brother, maybe, but still family. When he finally shut the door on his business, he helped me start up my own. He did the paperwork I needed for Gus Corral, Law Office Support, LLC. He spread the word to the Hispanic and Denver Bar Associations that I was a reliable and effective investigator, process server, witness interrogator and whatever, at rates even the solitary lawyer on his or her own could afford. I had to take out a loan, with Luis as co-signer, but the first few months of my business were good and I was already ahead on my bank payments.
I borrowed some of the Contreras money for the new apartment. I told Luis about that. I also spent some of it for the down payment on the used Suburban I needed for business, camping out, fishing trips and maybe even a hunting trip or two. I didn’t tell Luis about the money for the van. What he did know almost gave him a heart attack. I didn’t want to pile it on. I promised to pay him back and I would keep my promise.
When I told Corrine I was moving out, she immediately thought the worst. She had too much of the street left in her not to figure out that something was going on with her brother. She grilled me, in her own way, about how I managed to save enough money for the apartment and the car. I told her I gave up beer and I put away most of my check from Luis every week, and then my own business had opened with a bang. She said, “That’s not like you, Gus Corral.” I agreed, of course, but only to myself.
Finding the money and then not revealing it to anyone, including Luis and Corrine—my bad. The ideas that went through my head tripped me out for a long time. That money tempted this Chicano homeboy like nothing else ever did. The thing that kept my head on straight was when I remembered where the money came from—the pain and grief it caused, the wasted lives it represented. I waited, watched. At the end, it all worked out. I finally accepted that the money wasn’t for me, but it wasn’t going back to the hoodlums. That I knew for sure. And the feds? What would they do with it? Nothing that really mattered, nothing that could help balance the karma of how it was collected in the first place.
I guess I could’ve played it a little more straight with Corrine, at least. Like I said—my bad.
That María Contreras—she was smart. Too smart for her own good. But I thought I had her figured out.
Corrine jabbed me in the ribs with her elbow. She wanted to dance. The band jumped into an old favorite.
Rick Garcia’s perfect voice blasted over Corrine’s sunny back yard and streamed through the neighborhood.
“Quiero que sepas, que yo reconozco, que tuve la culpa en perder tus amores.”
The song about accepting blame, about responsibility, stirred the wedding guests. We joined hands and formed a circle on the lawn. We weaved in and out, around and around. Couples took turns showing off their best dance moves in the middle of the undulating mass. Maxine and Sandra hugged and kissed while they danced, but the music was too fast for slow romance. Luis and Rosa stood in the shade, clapping their hands to urge on the dancers. Corrine twirled me into the middle of the circle and we shook, dipped and twisted like teenagers. Sweat oiled Corrine’s face. The band played louder. The sun melted all of us into a ball of laughing, happy people.
Luis had the right idea. Hand over the money to SHIK. That was the promise I made to myself while Max and Sandra celebrated their love in the bright hot sunshine, while Luis and Rosa began something new and while Corrine and I danced away the afternoon, the past and the rest of our lives.
I finally believed I was free.
Soundtrack
1. “Stone Free,” Jimi Hendrix
2. “Can’t Be Satisfied,” Muddy Waters
3. “It Hurts Me Too,” Elmore James
4. “You Can’t Lose What You Ain’t Never Had,” Muddy Waters
5. “Get Out of Denver,” Bob Seger
6. “One Time, One Night,” Los
Lobos
7. “Play With Fire,” Rolling Stones
8. “El Tiempo Pasa,” Antonio Aguilar
9. “Running on Empty,” Jackson Browne
10. “Born under a Bad Sign,” Albert King
11. “The Same Thing,” Willie Dixon
12. “My Time Ain’t Long,” Canned Heat
13. “Jesus Make Up My Dying Bed,” Blind Willie Johnson
14. “Don’t Start Me Talking,” Sonny Boy Williamson
15. “Thin Line Between Love and Hate,” The Pretenders
16. “Hoodoo Man Blues,” Junior Wells’ Chicago Blues Band
17. “Nine Below Zero,” Muddy Waters
18. “Nowhere Man,” The Beatles
19. “Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology),” Marvin Gaye
20. “People Get Ready,” Curtis Mayfield and The Impressions
21. “El Tejano Enamorado,” Ramón Ayala y Sus Bravos del Norte
22. “Bad to the Bone,” George Thorogood and the Destroyers
23. “Get Along Little Doggies,” Chris LeDoux
24. “La Vecina Me Puso El Dedo,” Ramón Ayala y Sus Bravos del Norte
25. “Anselma,” Los Lobos
26. “Nobody Loves Me But My Mother,” B. B. King
27. “If Trouble Was Money,” Albert Collins
28. “Smoking Gun,” Robert Cray
29. “My Back Pages,” Bob Dylan
30. “Why I Sing The Blues,” B.B. King
31. “Fishin’ Blues,” Taj Mahal
32. “Lawyers, Guns and Money,” Warren Zevon
33. “Rollin’ and Tumblin,’” Muddy Waters
34. “Volver, Volver,” Vicente Fernández
35. “Quiero Que Sepas,” The Rick Garcia Band