“Sure took your time,” Luján said. “Maybe one of the old gossips didn’t see you out there.”
“I’m sorry?” Charles blinked, his eyes were useless in the dark meeting hall.
“You’re not the most popular chap around here.”
Charles looked around the meeting hall. There were two vehicles outside.
“Is it just us?” he asked. “I expected more of a . . .”
“War party? Fire dance?”
Charles shut his mouth. He was not going to dig the grave Luján would gladly have filled in for him.
Luján grinned. “Come on out Christine.”
Christine Morales, the woman who had started to make a scene during the council meeting came out from behind the curtain on the stage. Yesterday, she seemed like an outsider, a troublemaker, but this was no meeting for outsiders.
“I told you we didn’t need to be sneaky,” Christine said.
“She was going to stay back there,” Luján said. “A witness. Just in case.”
Charles rubbed his hand across his face. He knew his role, but he hated everyone else knowing it also.
Charles looked at Christine. “I thought you were opposed to this airport.”
Christine held her hands out. “Still saying ‘airport’. Not me, I’ll say casino, I’m not scared. If this casino can help us, then I’ll help it. I’m for these people, that’s all I care about, and I’m going to make damn sure some of that money goes to the people who need it.”
“Why don’t you build it yourself? Why get Mr. Branch involved?”
Luján grinned. “That’s been my line going on ten years. Save some of our money. Apply for our own loans. It’s not going to ever happen that way. The banks won’t loan us the cash because they don’t want to piss off the tribes that already have casinos. And I can’t tell my people that we’re not building that school or paving that road so we can save a hundred grand here and there for a casino we hope to build in ten years.”
“I’d tear his balls off myself, if he tried that one,” Christine said. “Look, I don’t want your boss’ money. But even if we could fund this ourselves, you know what kind of place that would be? Cheap. And it would bring in cheap people. The kind of guys who’ll tear through the village for fun. Drag waitresses into their back seats. That’s the casino I’ve been fighting.”
“And Branch’s casino will help?” Charles asked.
Christine’s face fell. “It’ll create different problems. But if I’ve lost the war, then I’m going to dictate the terms of my surrender. If a casino is coming, it’s going to be the best goddamn casino in the state, and we’re going to get our fair share.”
“I almost miss her being my nemesis,” Luján said. “She kept me sharp.”
Christine pointed her finger at Luján and furrowed her eyebrows in warning. They both smiled. Charles did not understand their relationship, but it was clearly deep and true.
“But you’ve got bad news for us,” Christine said. “You’re the delivery boy Diana sends when someone’s died.”
“He backing out?” Luján asked. “Backing the Apaches?”
“No, no,” Charles said. He used a finger to jab each word home. “He’s going to make the Apache problem go away.”
Charles expected them to look relieved, but Luján and Christine barely blinked.
“But he wants another fifteen percent.”
“That’s too much,” Luján said. “No way.”
Christine raised her hands, palms out, to calm Luján. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” She turned to Charles. “No.”
“No?”
“Christine,” Luján said, “without Branch, we wouldn’t have this chance.”
“I”m going to call Diana myself with our offer,” Christine said. “We need an additional fifteen percent. I can make the Apaches go away cheap, but we’ll need eighteen percent of future profits.”
Luján shook his head. “This wasn’t the plan,” he said. “What can you offer the Apaches?”
Charles stepped back and looked at Christine Morales as if with new eyes. “It’s you,” he said. “There are no Apaches. You put that group together to make sure Branch treated you fairly.”
She almost smiled. “I’ll reach out to them. Native to Native.”
Luján turned around, a hand to his mouth. “You should have told me.”
He paced, trying to find the words, and then opened the door to the parking lot. He stood in the doorway and turned to Charles. “You’ve done your job. Go back to your master now.”
“I can help make sure that your . . .”
“This conversation has nothing to do with you,” Christine said. “Sonny and I have a lot to talk about.”
“If I tell Branch the truth, he won’t move forward with you at all,” Charles said.
She laughed. “He already sent his chief goon with a check for ten million. Made quite a show of it, but the Apaches will keep saying no until I tell them to say yes. I’ll drag this process out to get what we need. He will still be rich. You’ll be rich. And you can’t prove any of this.”
Charles nodded and kept his mouth shut. He was an easy messenger to kill.
Christine and Sonny walked deeper into the meeting hall. Charles backed out into the bright day, his eyes having trouble adjusting to the light.
THIRTY-SIX
GABE SOLD THREE OUNCES in an hour. He worked up the nerve by smoking a joint and then downing two quick beers. Steady hands and a calm stomach meant Gabe could finish it all in a quick afternoon. No time for looking over his shoulder when he only had a minute to slap a bag into someone’s hand and pocket their cash.
Two of the ounces went to friends. Guys who had swallowed Gabe’s story about a friend in Colorado.
The third ounce was a bad idea. A few weeks earlier, all Gabe wanted was a hamburger. The kid who worked the drive-in at the Blake’s near the highway had the nerve to ask Gabe, a stranger, if he could score him some weed. Gabe grabbed his burgers and sped off without paying. This time the kid burst into a dumb toothy grin when Gabe showed what he had to offer.
Gabe knew two things at the same time: that this was too easy, and that he should have done it a week ago.
Back at the house, Gabe counted his money. Helen wanted a grand. Gabe had $1,100. Gabe needed a few hundred more for food, new sheets, taking Micah to the movies, but he was almost there.
He tried not to look into his kitchen, where Rose’s check hung from an old magnet on the fridge. Gabe promised himself he would not cash her check. He would not even recognize it as a check. That slip of paper was not money to Gabe. It was a note telling him to go back to Rose.
He took the check off the fridge, turned it over to hide the numbers and put it back under the magnet. As he grabbed another beer, he thought about throwing the check away. Gabe sat down on his couch. He could still see the kitchen out of the corner of his eye.
His phone rang. Gabe grabbed for it, hoping for Rose, willing to settle for Helen. Blocked Number.
Cold sweat spread across Gabe’s chest. Frederick. Gabe stared at the phone, willed it to blink out of existence. Frederick would know he ignored the call. Better to answer and start begging now.
“Yeah?” Gabe’s voice was quiet.
“Gabey, Gabe, Gabe. I didn’t think you’d answer.”
“Fucking Bobby.” Gabe let out a deep breath he’d been holding for too long. “Where are you calling from? Why are you calling me at all?”
“Oh my God, this guy, look at him. He begs me to call if we’re starting up, and now he’s too busy for my call. That’s fine, whatever, paying people in cash makes me nervous.”
“We starting? When? Monday?”
“Eager beaver. No, we’re starting Tuesday, but you’re needed on Wednesday. And try not to do anything that gets you on the news, okay?”
“Hey, man, I didn’t do anything.”
“Story of your life, Gaber. See you in a few days.”
The line went dead. Ga
be put the phone down and looked around the room.
No more selling weed by the ounce. No more lying to Helen. She would let Micah come up. Gabriel Luna was a respectable member of society again.
His phone rang, and Gabe answered right away. “Do I get a raise too?”
“It’s always money with you.” This time it was Rey.
“Hey, man, you were right,” Gabe said. “I got the call. Going back to work in few days.”
“I know, my clients just accepted a metric fuckton of cash. I should be making sure I get paid but I’m talking to you for some reason.”
“You didn’t take them on for free, did you?”
“We’ll talk about that later. Look, I found your mom.”
Gabe laughed. “You found my mom? I only asked you yesterday.”
“Well, I know how to use the internet. Two Google searches and one call to a buddy on Taos PD. I did it in traffic.”
Gabe sat up, his mouth still holding an echo of a grin. “She’s out there?”
“Want me to start at the beginning or . . .”
“Just tell me where she is.”
“Okay, okay. Celsa Luna, who was born Celsa Ramírez and died Celsa Chávez, is in a cemetery up near Pecos. I’m sorry, man, she died nine years ago.”
“Nine? She was alive nine years ago?”
“Yeah, right in downtown Pecos, worked in a hotel. Look, I have an obit. She got written up in the Santa Fe New Mexican and the Journal. I’ll send it your way.”
“Who paid for that? Did she have kids? Other than . . .”
“No, no kids. And this wasn’t some fifty-word funeral notice. They sent journalists to write a story about her. I got to say, man. I always knew you were down for the cause.”
“Tell me what you mean.”
“She lived here in town for a few years, doing . . . not much, I guess. But then she fell in with what was left of Reies López Tijerina’s group. Remember them in the ’60s?”
“Kind of. They took over a post office?”
“National Forest. Armed fucking uprising, man. That land belonged to local families who’d been cheated out of it. Tijerina went to jail, but some of those guys were still fighting the fight. Your mom joined them after she split. She organized Chicanos and Natives north of Santa Fe. Helped bring more services out to Acoma Pueblo, San Miguel, a few spots. The article here quotes all these people: ‘She was a great leader,’ ‘Could have been a national figure,’ blah blah blah. The real fucking deal, man. I’m telling you this is in your blood.”
“But she worked in a hotel.”
“Yeah. I don’t know. Something must have happened. She stopped organizing. Dropped all those people. No one seems to know why. Ends up in Pecos. No kids. No husband.”
“That’s two hours from here. She was two hours away.”
“She was.” Rey groaned. “I’m sorry, man. Be proud. Seems like she did some good work.”
“Why didn’t she call me? Why didn’t she find us?”
Rey rustled through some papers, as if he could find the answer.
“Hey, I’ll bring this stuff by,” he said. “Or we can meet at The Pig.”
Gabe looked around the house, there was so much to do.
“Maybe later. Hey, can I borrow your truck to go pick up Micah tomorrow? I’ll leave you my bike.”
“Sure, whatever you need.” Gabe hung up.
Two hours away.
One of his strongest memories of her was just an image. He was in the living room, playing next to her rocking chair while she watched TV. When she rocked forward, her leg would graze Gabe’s back, soothing, calming, present.
Two hours away.
THIRTY-SEVEN
CHARLES SAW OLIVIA’S SUV parked outside his cul-de-sac. It stuck out into the road and was oddly far from any of the houses. His stomach bubbled with a stew of excitement and nerves. She made him feel dumb and vulnerable. He slowly walked into the house. She was sitting on a stool in the kitchen, resting her head on the marble island.
“Why’d you park on the road?” he asked. “I almost clipped your front end.”
Olivia sat up. She looked exhausted, as if she had spent the day knotted in anger and it had taken hours and more than a few glasses of wine to move past it.
“I don’t have the time I was hoping for. Have you found anything? If we’re going to make a move, it has to be now.”
Charles realized she was scared.
“There’s no proof,” he said. “Each side is playing the other, and neither side is answering my calls. Also, look, you won’t like this, but Addie’s coming out here tonight. I’m going to need some help cleaning up.”
“Maybe you can testify or swear to a statement or something.”
Charles set his wine glass down. “Did you hear what I said about my wife? She’ll be here in a few hours. I think she knows something.”
“What did you find?”
“Look.” Charles glanced around the house, not quite ready to look straight at Olivia. “I’m going to be overseeing the whole project. Salazar is closing up shop and leaving. I got a promotion and I don’t think I should be . . .”
“Why did you get a promotion?”
He grinned. “Well, I guess you don’t think it’s because I’m good at my job.”
“Did you tell my husband about us? Try to sell me to him for a title bump?”
“No. Hell no. He’d pound me to dust if he found out.”
“Maybe.” Olivia stood up. “This isn’t about you anymore. If they’re putting you in charge, it is not because they like you.”
Charles held up both hands. “I know, I know, I’ve heard that’s what they do. They’re going to burn me if they need to, but they don’t need to yet. I can stick around here for months. You and I can keep figuring this thing out. You’re right, I need protection, so stick with me and we’ll find it.”
“I don’t know which of us is more delusional.”
Charles took a step towards her, arms outstretched, but she stopped him with a look.
“I want to make this work between us.”
Olivia laughed. “No, you don’t. You’re looking for something you can win because you’re tired of losing, but you can’t even see how screwed you are.”
“I’m out here for the long run. I’m not sneaking away with you tonight.”
“I don’t want you to sneak away with me at all. I want you to be useful.”
“Hey, I found out the truth about who’s behind the Apaches claim. Branch is being tight with his cash, but he’ll pay me for this. It’ll help both of us.”
“I’m not staying with you. I’m leaving.”
While she was running as far away as possible Charles had been digging closer to Branch. At some point, they had passed each other. Years ago, Charles learned how to tell when she was about to run out and slam the door behind her. He figured he had about twenty seconds.
“Are you going to give me anything?” she asked.
“Are you going to give us a chance?”
Olivia crossed the living room in four quick strides. “Cash out, man. Go home. That’s my plan. And don’t worry about cleaning this place up. I haven’t left anything behind.”
And then, he was alone. Other than a dirty wine glass and the painting on the wall, Olivia was right.
THIRTY-EIGHT
MALLON WAS NOT DOING WELL. In the guardhouse, he could hear the buzzing fluorescents, so he went outside. Then, he heard each insect in the trees, and the scent of the blooming flowers was cloying. Every action of the past week loomed as a colossal and compounding error in judgment. Trusting Mrs. Branch and O’Connell had been a huge mistake. After he added a touch of pressure, he expected them to do the right thing. Instead, Janice got to Branch before he could.
Everyone else had left the compound. The other guards had been sent away, most of them for good. The domestic staff had gone home earlier. A moving truck, stuffed with everything Branch might need for a year on the road, sat in fr
ont of the house.
Mallon went back into the guardhouse. He assumed Mr. Branch was still at Janice Chávez’s, where he had left him that morning. Mallon was alone in the compound, watching the tracking monitor as Mrs. Branch’s vehicle left O’Connell’s and headed back.
He should go home, tell Claudia goodbye, pack a bag and hope she would be there when he got back. His orders were clear. Stand down. Even worse, look past what was happening all around him. Let O’Connell walk away. Let Mrs. Branch walk away. The boss made it sound so simple.
Mallon hated that he had missed all the signs. Janice Chávez had been clinging to the edges of the Branch empire for years, and Mallon never suspected a thing. He paced around the guardroom, scraping his feet on the floor to drown out the noise of the humming computers and lights.
Maybe he was the one falling apart. Maybe he was the perverted one. He entertained the idea, chewed over the thought that these other people were doing the right thing and he was wrong. He spat it out like a broken tooth.
The orders were simple but they were also a paradox. Do nothing. That’s not an order. That’s a state of being. So, Mallon asked himself, if he did something, was that disobeying orders? What if he did something to make Olivia Branch go away? And O’Connell. Then, one day, everyone would forget they were ever there and nothing would have to change.
The front gate opened, and Mrs. Branch’s car pulled into the compound. Mallon left the guardhouse. He got to the front door just as she was starting up the steps from the parking area.
When she saw him, she tightened her grip on her phone and keys, then shot a glance around her. “Where is everyone?” she asked.
“They’re gone. Everyone’s gone.”
She lifted her chin, defiant. “Move out of my way.”
Mallon stayed still.
Anger edged into her voice. “You going to stand there all night? I’m trying to go inside.”
Olivia looked at the ground. “What did he ask you to do? Tell me. Am I supposed to drive away? Walk down this mountain? Or are you going to hurt me, like those other people he sics you on?”
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