“Yes, I’m sure it can,” said Juan, “but I think five each is enough. I don’t want us taking too much on our first load in case things don’t turn out like we expect and we got to move fast.”
“But I thought you said you already checked the hotel,” said Julio.
“I have,” said Juan Salvador, “but it pays to be prepared. Remember what my mother always says, ‘It’s not the bravest nor the strongest chick who survives the hawks in life, but the most cautious, who’s always got his eyes peeled to the heavens’.”
“Well, maybe so,” said Julio, “but my Dodge is powerful. I can take a lot more on our first haul than you.”
“Okay, maybe,” said Juan, and they went over everything, step-by-step, getting it all out on the table, so that they could look at it from every angle. And Juan once more remembered Duel’s words, that a professional never left anything up to chance. No, before a poker game, a professional took a bath, shaved, took a nap, opened up his mind and prepared himself for a night of poker like a priest preparing for the mass.
For gambling wasn’t gambling; it was life, and life was made up of a million little decisions that a professional prepared for ahead of time. Dreaming, thinking, a man could see the game of life as if from another lifetime. Look for the unlooked, suspect the unsuspected.
Then it hit Juan, and he knew that it was time for him to go and see his mother, the smartest human being that he knew on earth. But he realized that he couldn’t. He’d lied to her about the hotel, not telling her about the basement and the big, cop-smelling man, and he didn’t want to give her unnecessary worries now.
He got up and went outside, looking up at the sky, thinking of all that he and his mother had been through. He thought of Lupe and what Victoriano had told him, she hadn’t even wanted to be the queen. He smiled, loving Lupe all the more. She wasn’t a show-off and, since she didn’t like dancing, that meant that men hadn’t been putting their greedy hands all over her luscious body.
Suddenly, Juan heard something and he whirled about, going for his gun. But then he saw that it was his nephew, José, coming up the alley.
“What is it?” asked Juan. “Is Mama all right?”
“Yes, everyone is fine,” said José. “It’s just that, well, you haven’t been by for over two weeks and Mamagrande had a bad dream last night and is very worried for you.”
“What dream?”
“That you drove into a prison made of concrete with no windows.”
“My God,” said Juan, wondering how his mother always knew. “And how’d you get here?”
“Rodolfo, you know, the schoolteacher, drove us over.”
Juan’s face exploded.
“No, Uncle, please,” said the boy quickly, “I didn’t bring him here. I left him at the park downtown with Pedro, more than a mile away.”
Juan came back down, the anger leaving his body as quickly as it had come. “Good thinking, José, good thinking. Well, let me drive you back so you can go home and tell everyone that everything is fine.”
“Uncle, Pedro and I want to stay,” he said. “We can send Rodolfo back to tell our mothers that everything is fine.”
Juan reached out, gently putting his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “How’s school?” he asked.
He shrugged. “Good.”
“You straightened it out with that gringo teacher?”
José nodded. “Yeah. And Pedro got an A.”
“What’s that?”
“A good grade; the best, Uncle.”
“And you?”
“I’m doing a little better.”
“Good, I’m glad to hear that. Okay, you and your brother can stay. But you don’t go on the deliveries. You stay at the house and help us load.”
José’s whole face lit up. “Thank you. I was hoping you weren’t still mad at us. We been trying in school; we have, really.”
Giving his nephew a big abrazo, Juan held him close, giving him comfort. Then they both got in the Ford truck and drove to the park in town.
The schoolteacher from Monterrey was glad to see Juan, and Juan gave him ten dollars for helping them out.
Driving his nephews back to the big house, Juan was feeling pretty good until they went inside and found Julio so upset that he could hardly speak.
“Quick, shut the door!” said Julio, getting Juan and the two boys inside. “We’re not going to be able to make the delivery tomorrow. That pinche old lady across the street is spying on us!”
Juan went to the window and, sure enough, there was that old gringa with her little white dog looking at them with a pair of binoculars through her front window.
“How long has this been going on?” asked Juan.
“I don’t know,” said Julio. “I just noticed it.”
“Well,” said Juan, taking a deep breath, “you’re right, this could be trouble.”
“Could be? It is!” yelled Geneva. “Why do you think we’re going crazy? I don’t want my daughters and me going to prison!”
“Calm down,” said Juan. “No one’s going to prison.”
“Sure, you can say that!” she yelled. “You got no kids!”
It took all of Juan’s power not to slap the woman. Were his nephews not his own family? Hadn’t he been doing all he could to keep them safe?
“Hey, Uncle!” said Pedro excitedly. “Why don’t you just do your mouth drooling and scare her away?”
Juan glanced at his nephew. “Eh, maybe that could work,” he said. “Sure, I’ll get my plumber’s tools and go over there, asking her if she needs some help.”
“No!” yelled Geneva. “She’ll call the cops for sure!”
“Julio, calm your wife down,” said Juan.
“No one’s calming me down!” screamed Geneva so loud that Juan was sure they could hear her two houses away. “We worked so hard, living here like prisoners, and now everything will come to ruin because of you wanting to get bigger and move in with the gringos.”
“Damn it,” said Juan, turning to Julio. “I’m not putting up with this, Julio! You two are out after this job, if you can’t handle your wife!”
Juan went into the kitchen. He was trembling. He had enough troubles without a hysterical woman. His mother would never act like this. She had nerves of iron!
Juan decided he’d have to get his nephew, José, to help him tomorrow with the delivery. Things were really getting out of hand. Also, he was glad that he hadn’t mentioned anything to Julio about his problems with the Italian and the Filipino. A married man just wasn’t a man who could live on the edge gracefully. This, also, Duel had explained to him. “Make your money before you marry,” he had said to Juan. “Make it big and then marry a young, innocent thing and retire.”
But he knew that Lupe wasn’t going to wait for him to make it big. She was ready now. He had to get this hotel deal behind him and do his courtship.
Ten minutes later, Juan was ready to go out the front door. He was dressed in his dirtiest old overalls and a twisted, funny-looking little round hat.
“All right,” he said to José and Pedro, “you guys come out the front door with me and start doing some yard work. Then, when I see her come to her window, I’ll go over by myself. Understand?”
They both said that they did.
“Good,” said Juan, lighting up a half-burnt, three-day-old cigar. They went out the door.
Julio was with Geneva in the next room. Geneva was still screaming, and Julio was promising her money and a car if she’d stop crying.
Juan and the boys hadn’t been outside more than a minute when the woman came to her window. Juan winked at them as he picked up his plumbing tools. Seeing Juan coming toward her home, the woman closed her drapes. But still, Juan continued across the street and up her walkway, puffing on his cigar.
At the door, Juan put his box of tools down and knocked politely. But the old woman didn’t come to the door. He knocked again, a little harder, and got some spit to drool out the side of his mouth. He turned
back around and winked at his nephews who were cleaning up the front yard. Finally, she came to her door.
“Yes?” she said, barely opening the door. She had her small white dog in her arms.
“Excuse me, lady,” said Juan, taking the chewed-up cigar out of his mouth, “but you see I’m a plumber-rrr,” he said, blowing out so hard on the word “plumber” that he sprayed spit and cigar smoke on her and her dog. “And I see you looking at us, so I say to myself, ‘Juan, I bet that fine lady over there, she wants a little plumbing work done for her, but she’s too shy to ask’.” And saying this, Juan leaned in close to her, smiling an awful smile with his two front teeth blackened out by big pieces of tobacco, and he let some spit drool out of his mouth. “So let me come inside and see what you need fixed,” he said, pushing the door open and stepping forward.
“No!” screamed the woman, and her little dog leaped out of her arms, barking furiously at Juan.
“But I no charge,” said Juan, blowing so much cigar smoke on the dog that he stopped barking and gagged, rolling on the floor.
“No, get out! Get out! I have nothing wrong with my plumbing!” Still Juan walked in. “No, please, you’re dirtying my carpet!”
“But I see you looking at us, so I . . . ”
“Oh, my God!” she yelled, pushing him out of the door. “Go away! Please, I don’t want your help!”
Across the street, José and Pedro couldn’t stop laughing. Their uncle was the best show in town.
It was midnight, and Juan, José, and Julio were in back of the big house, loading the barrels of whiskey into the two trucks. Juan had decided that they’d take the first load early so that they could keep watch on the hotel before they delivered.
“But what’s the time we supposed to deliver the first load?” asked Julio.
“Like I’ve told you, Mario wants us to deliver our first load at nine sharp,” said Juan. “But we’re going to go earlier so we can watch like a hawk.”
“Oh, I just can’t wait!” said Julio. “Imagine all that money waiting for us! And our second load,” asked Julio, “when do we deliver that?”
Juan straightened up. Why, Mario had never mentioned a second load. Suddenly, Juan just knew down deep in his soul that his mother’s dream was right and this whole “hotel thing” really was a trap.
“What is it?” asked Julio, seeing Juan’s face go pale. “Hell, we got no more worries, compadre. That old lady hasn’t shown her face again!”
“Nothing,” lied Juan. “I’m just tired.” And he went to bed but he wasn’t able to sleep. He could hear Julio and Geneva making love. He tossed and turned, and it wasn’t just the hotel that was on his mind; it was everything—Lupe and his mother, the Filipino and the Italian, and his need to get money so he could get beyond the shame of the day he’d seen his beloved mother begging in the streets.
It was four in the morning when Juan awoke with a start. His father had come to him, riding a big black stallion across the heavens like a shooting star. Juan sat up, breathing deeply. He’d never dreamed of his father before. Calming down, Juan got up, relieved himself, dressed, and got José and Julio.
“Come on, we’re going!” he said. “Now!”
“But it’s still dark,” said Julio. Geneva was right behind him.
“Julio, listen to me closely,” said Juan. “The day I went to check on the hotel, I saw something I haven’t told no one. They have a basement with no windows.”
“So what has that to do with us?” asked Julio.
“Nothing, I hope,” said Juan. “But today is a very big day for us. So I want you to pay attention, and do as I say.”
“Oh, yes, the lord and master,” said Geneva, scratching her armpit, “keeping us locked up here like prisoners, doing all the work!”
“That’s enough!” said Julio to his wife.
“Oh, no, it isn’t!” yelled Geneva. “I’m sick and tired of this whole thing! Who does he think he is, God?”
And she would’ve gone on speaking if Julio hadn’t slapped her. But she was a tough woman. She didn’t go down. No, she was on him like a wild cat, scratching and biting.
Juan and the boys went outside, and Julio and Geneva continued fighting and screaming.
“When he comes out,” said Juan to José, “I want you riding with him. Here, take my gun and make sure he follows me.”
The boy didn’t want to take the gun.
“Take it,” snapped Juan. “It’s not going to bite.”
The boy took it.
“Good,” said Juan, “and remember, we don’t kill. We just get the job done. You’ll be okay, believe me, you’re a good man.”
Coming out the door, Julio was smiling but his face was covered with blood. He saw José put the .38 in his jacket. “What’s that?” he shouted, putting on his hat.
“He’s going with you,” said Juan.
“Hey, you don’t give a gun to a boy to get me to do what you want. I follow you because you’re mi general!” said Julio, turning with dignity and going to his truck.
José looked at his uncle.
“Keep the gun anyway,” said Juan. “Things don’t look so good. And you, Pedro, stay here and calm that woman down. Tell her jokes . . . do something.”
“Yes,” said Pedro.
“Remember,” said Juan to José as they went to the trucks, “guns are part of life, so a real man must know how to use them. Relax. It’s okay to be scared. Boys your age were men back in Mexico during the Revolution.”
The first signs of daylight were just beginning to paint the sky above the huge towering mountain when they got to San Bernardino. Up ahead, on a hilltop, they pulled off the road into the trees. Juan killed his engine and got out, walking back to Julio and José.
“Cut your motor,” he said to Julio. “We’re going to wait here until it’s our turn to deliver.”
Julio did as told, getting out of his truck to stretch his legs. It was cold up here in the mountains.
“And Julio,” said Juan, “believe me, I want to make this delivery as much as you do, but we got to be careful.”
“We got to do it,” said Julio sheepishly. “Hell, I promised Geneva a new car and a trip to Mexico. You just can’t imagine how difficult it’s been,” he added.
Juan put his hand on Julio’s shoulder. “You’re a good man, Julio,” he said, “you’re a good man. Just hold on a little longer and this will all be over.”
Julio nodded. “Okay, but I’m going to take a little nap.” He laughed, rubbing his belly. “Hell, Geneva loves playing my violin. She gets that way after a good fight.”
Juan laughed. “Go on, we’ll call you.”
So Julio got back in his truck to nap, and Juan and José walked through the trees until they could see the hotel down below them. The light of day was just beginning to color the jagged horizon above San Bernardino. Juan and his nephew sat down on the ground, chewing a blade of grass. It wasn’t until seven that the first truck showed up.
Mario had told Juan that he’d have bootleggers arriving all day. The truck below had a huge load in back covered with a tarp, just like Juan’s. Juan watched as it circled the building—the driver trying to find where to unload—when the huge, double doors of the basement slid open and two men stepped out, waving him inside.
Juan’s heart pounded wildly as he watched the poor, unsuspecting man drive through the big doors, and the two men closed the doors behind the vehicle.
“Well, what do you think?” said Juan, trying to sound calm.
“I don’t know,” said José. “I guess it depends if he comes back out or not.”
Juan loved it. It made sense. He reached out, rubbing his nephew’s head of hair. “Good thinking,” he said, “so that’s what we’ll do, wait and see. Just like Mama said: chicks with our eyes peeled.” He had to smile; his old mother had been right once again.
After that, trucks began arriving every thirty minutes, but they never came back out. By nine o’clock, Juan was ready to bu
rst. They had eight trucks trapped inside that concrete prison.
“Come on!” said Juan. “Let’s go!”
Julio was still asleep inside the truck. Juan kicked him.
“Wake up!” yelled Juan. “We got to get out of here!”
“To the hotel?” said Julio, sitting up.
“No, to hide these barrels in the hills before they realize that we’re not delivering,” said Juan. “Then we got to get back to the house and get all those other barrels out of there, too!”
“Are you crazy? I can’t go home with no money! She’ll kill me!” yelled Julio.
“Julio, damn it! Don’t be stupid! No truck has ever come out!”
“Well, maybe they just needed time to count their money,” he said.
“Damn it,” said Juan, pulling out his. 45, “two FBI agents were killed in San Bernardino a few months back! This is no joke! It’s a setup!”
Hearing this and seeing the .45, Julio sobered up and they took off. They drove back down toward Lake Elsinore and hid the first load of barrels. Then they went back to the rented house and got a second load. They worked all day and long into the night. When they returned late that night, Geneva was fit to be tied, she was so mad. And nothing Julio or Juan could say would calm her down.
“You’re all just a bunch of no-good cowards!” she screamed. “I told you, Julio, I told you, that he was crazy and didn’t know what he was doing!”
“Shut up!” said Julio.
“Why? I don’t care!”
And she would’ve gone on screaming but Julio jumped up and knocked her across the room. But still, Geneva wouldn’t shut up. She just jumped to her feet and leaped on Julio’s face like an enraged jaguar, biting and scratching and kicking as she’d done before.
Juan and his two nephews went out. “Never in his worst days did my father hit my mother,” said Juan to his nephews. “A man who hits a woman is no man.”
They got in the truck and went to have breakfast together. As they went into a little restaurant, José saw the newspapers on the counter. There it was on the front page.
Quickly, José poked Juan.
“What is it?” asked Juan.
Rain of Gold Page 47
