by David Sayre
Diego stood over the sink, the water running and he was staring at his reflection in the mirror. He had just lied to his best friend. Whether Cachorro was trying to help him or not, Diego wasn't going to listen.
I don't need to be taken care of like I'm his kid brother. Fuck him. I can take care of myself.
He knew what his plan was and when Cachorro woke up in the morning, Diego was gone.
✽✽✽
Five Days After the Storm . . .
Eladio had worked for two days at the coffee shop. Mostly he bussed tables. On his second day he had spent forty-five minutes on the grill, cooking during the breakfast shift. He could make the basic items on the menu: eggs, potatoes, bacon and sausage. He proved himself a hard worker that showed up on time and kept to his duties.
By lunch time, he was sitting outside, behind the rear exit, drinking an iced tea and catching the afternoon breeze. He sat on a milk crate from the stack that was out near the garbage cans.
Currelton stepped outside and joined him, pulling up a crate and sitting next to Eladio. He had two plates, each with a BLT on it. He handed one to his young employee.
"Thanks," Eladio said as he accepted the sandwich.
"So, Miami?" his boss asked.
"Yep."
"I hear nobody talks English down there."
Eladio smiled. It was an oversimplification, but the population of the South Florida city that solely spoke Spanish had grown over the years.
"That's not all true," Eladio explained. "There's some that don't. I guess there's a lot, but it's not everybody."
"You speak it good."
"My grandfather told me 'You act like a rafter that just got off the boat, they'll treat you like one. You act like you belong here, that's how they'll see you.'"
Eladio thought about his grandfather's words. Funny how he'd been thinking about him a lot lately.
"He always told me that I had to choose how I want the world to see me and then be that kind of man," Eladio said. The words left a difficult truth in Eladio's mind.
I chose this, and this is how I am seen. Fuck.
"What'd you leave behind in Miami?" Currelton asked before taking a bite of his sandwich.
Eladio shrugged, "The usual. Some family. Well, my mother is my family. And a girl."
Currelton nodded, then added, "And what about the unusual?"
Eladio looked over to his boss, wondering what he needed to say here. He liked this man and he wanted to keep the job. He couldn't let the truth slip.
Currelton didn't give him that chance.
"You know what I see when I look at you, son?" Currelton asked.
Eladio's shake of the head barely registered. But his furrowed brow showed interest, if not concern.
"I see someone I knew. Not just me, but maybe a dozen other troubled men I've come across over the years. I don't know your story, but I bet I've heard a version or two of it before . . . You've never been to prison."
Currelton stated it as fact. But Eladio responded to confirm it anyway.
"No."
"But you've seen trouble. Whatever that is. I can tell."
Eladio stared at the ground, head hung low. He couldn't look at the man next to him when he said, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."
Currelton slapped a hand on Eladio's shoulder. Very brief, but enough to make contact with the young man. "Head up, Eladio. I'm not going to pry. And I'm not going to tell anybody. There's nothing you could have done that makes you less deserving of a second chance than I was."
Eladio raised his head and looked at Currelton, noting the sincerity and decency in his eyes.
"You've got a job here as long as you want it. You need to talk about it, you've got that too," Currelton said.
He stood up and stacked the milk crate in the spot he'd retrieved it from. "Break's over."
And that was it. No questions, no agenda. Straightforward.
Eladio got up, went inside and went back to work for the remaining hours of his shift.
✽✽✽
Eladio's workday went by quickly. As had the previous day. Busy work was what he preferred. He couldn't stand dead time.
He'd had a grilled cheese sandwich and a cup of tomato soup wrapped up to go and was heading to the motel. As he approached the door with the number of the room that read "8", he heard footsteps behind him. He steeled himself for a moment, and then shifted his eyes to see if he could get a glance before turning his head and being forced to react. He let out a breath and was about to speak when he heard her voice.
"Hey there, handsome."
The sound was the most welcome he'd heard in days. He turned around and saw Maribel, looking as beautiful as he could ever imagine. She stepped into his embrace and they shared a kiss that they held for a long, satisfying time.
A few days earlier, Eladio had made a decision. His heartache was too powerful. He missed Maribel and that pain wasn't going away. He had called her, telling her where he was. Telling her he was safe, but told her not to let anyone else know. He knew his mother would be worried and it made him guilty not to assuage her concern. But he knew that his mother would be an easy target if she showed any signs of knowing something. He didn't know whether or not the people who might be looking for him would go to his mother. The best he could do was keeping her isolated.
Maribel on the other hand . . . she was tough. Tough in a different way than Yessenia. Maribel could handle any questions that came her way and Eladio knew she could keep one eye over her shoulder at all times.
So he'd called her and now she had actually come to be with him. It was as if they'd been apart for months. The sensation of her touch, her warmth in their embrace. The feeling of her cheek against his. He had never needed her love and affection so much.
They went inside and he placed his dinner on the small table that he and Diego had been using to play cards. When she looked around, she asked the obvious question.
"Where's Diego?"
Eladio sighed, still frustrated by his friend's actions.
"He left."
"Where did he go?"
Eladio's look said it all.
"No," Maribel replied with a troubled look on her face.
"I couldn't talk him out of it. I tried, and I thought he listened. But the next morning he had left. I think he hitchhiked to a bus station in West Palm Beach."
"He's not safe."
"I know that, but . . ." Eladio couldn't fret on it any longer. He had mulled it over for the past two days. What's done was done and Eladio couldn't help that. Instead, he changed the subject.
"Have you seen my mother? Is she okay?" he asked.
"I went by her house, but she wasn't there," Maribel answered.
"How does the house look? I mean, what was the damage?"
"There's a board on the window at the front. I don't know about the rest of the house. But I know she's okay, babe."
"How?"
Maribel paused for a moment, not knowing how Eladio would react. She pulled a business card out of her pocket and handed it to him.
As he examined it, Maribel continued, "She hired a private detective to find you."
"Fuck!" he shouted. He tossed the card down on the floor. Maribel kneeled to pick it up and pocketed it as she rose back to her feet.
Eladio's anger was coupled in a peculiar way with a more tender emotion. He felt love from his mother, knowing how she only hired the investigator out of worry for her boy. He teared up but quickly wiped them from his eyes. One sniffle later and Maribel already had him in her arms.
He broke. He hadn't allowed himself to cry the way Diego had. He hadn't cried since seeing his friend killed. He hadn't cried since feeling trapped and having to flee. He hadn't cried since watching the storm coverage and being afraid for the safety of his mother and his love that now held him.
It all came out now. And Maribel, beautiful soul that she was, comforted him. He just wanted to hold her. They fell back on the bed and lied down with each other.
There was nothing sexual about it. It was love, it was comfort. It was what Eladio needed and they fell asleep in each other's arms.
✽✽✽
Hours later, when they'd awoken, Maribel asked Eladio what he wanted to do about the detective.
"Tell me about him," Eladio instructed.
"He seems good. I don't know if he can help you. I don't know what he can do, to be honest. But I just think he's . . . kind. I like him."
"Can you trust him?"
"I don't know him. Not really. But, I think I can call him if something bad came up, yes."
Eladio nodded. "Keep his number. Don't call him unless you need to. Don't tell him anything right now. I have to think about all this."
"Okay, mi amor."
Maribel got up from the bed, but Eladio quickly stopped her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her close to him. His eyes were without joy and the corner's of his mouth drew a portrait of regret.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I should have listened to you. I should have gotten out."
Her smile was sad. Forgiving and understanding, but sad. She kissed him, and then said, "It's going to be okay."
She walked to the chair by the table, where she had placed her bag earlier, and pulled out a shirt and a pair of pajama pants.
It's going to be okay?
Eladio wasn't so sure.
✽✽✽
When they woke up the next morning, Eladio suggested they go to the coffee shop for breakfast. Maribel agreed and went into the bathroom to get ready.
Eladio reached for the remote control and turned the channel to MTV. By the time Maribel had come out of the bathroom, Eladio was watching En Vogue's sensuous video for Giving Him Something He Can Feel.
She lied next to him, draping her arm over his stomach.
"You ready to go, babe?" she asked.
"Yeah," he replied.
She watched the video. When she looked down she noticed something. She knew him and his proportions well enough to know when she saw his pants. She smiled and looked up at him.
"Baby, are you getting hard?"
Eladio uncomfortably shook his head and said, "No. What are you talking about?"
Maribel grabbed his crotch and noticed that Eladio was halfway erect. She teasingly laughed and said in a cute voice, "Aw, sweety. Did En Vogue give you a boner?"
"No. Come on," he refuted.
Her laughter continued through his denial as she stood up and walked to the foot of the bed.
"So is this what you like, huh?" she asked as she began to sway her hips.
She was lip syncing to the song, moving her hands gently up and down her curves, a sexy prelude to a striptease.
Eladio's erection was no longer half strong as he watched her performance. But that wasn't so important to him. It's not that he didn't want to have sex with her just then, he did. He wanted to fuck the living hell out of her. But he wanted to admire her more. For her beauty and everything else she was to him. Her smile and her brown eyes made his heart ache.
Oh my God, she is beautiful.
She was a good woman with a beautiful heart and his life was better for her being a part of it. Abuelo had always told him, "When you find the woman who is the greatest woman in the world to you, you will know."
Eladio watched Maribel dance. It was sexy, but it was also silly. It was beautiful. He watched the love of his life.
Abuelo was right.
Eladio knew.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Conscience of Community
T-Dub had set the meeting up at People's in Overtown, which suited Delmon just fine as it was one of his favorite spots to eat a meal. Sheen had tracked down a number for T-Dub's legitimate business office and left a message with his assistant. The call was returned in a matter of hours. Sheen said he wanted to talk about a downtown dealer who'd turned up dead known as Araña. T-Dub's initial silence told Sheen he was barking up the right tree and the silence was broken by a suggestion they meet for lunch on the following day.
Sheen had already placed his order and taken a seat, sipped at his lemonade and watched through the window as T-Dub got out of his Benz and walked up to the restaurant. T-Dub found Sheen and joined him. Both men had the barbecue ribs, Sheen with mac & cheese, T-Dub with pigeon peas & rice. Both men had the collard greens.
"So what is it you want to talk about?" T-Dub asked.
"Who's Araña?" Sheen responded.
"You don't know already?"
"I'm guessing a drug dealer, but it's only what I think is a very good guess."
"It is."
"And what's he to you? Competition?"
T-Dub considered his answer before he said, "Yes and no."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning that he's not my competition as long as he keeps to his territory and don't come into mine."
"And what are the territories?"
"Come on. I'm not gonna give you a map of the turfs in the drug trade around town."
"What am I gonna do with it?"
"I don't know, partner. You tell me. I mean, I didn't exactly get as far as I have in business by hanging my ass out there. You see what I'm saying."
The grin that Sheen found displaying on his face had more to do with irritation and cynicism than joy. He shook his head, incredulous. Fundamentally, he didn't agree with Tisdale's business. But, short of any information it could provide about Eladio, he honestly didn't know what concern it was to him under the circumstances.
"I don't give a damn about your business, Allen. I may not like it, but right now that's not my problem. I'm not with the cops. I'm just trying to find this boy for his mother, that's all."
Delmon was earnest. Tisdale always knew and appreciated that about the man. Going back to when they were tight.
T-Dub responded, "True. I could respect that."
"Look, I don't know if you're a father or not. But I'd like to think that, if you were and your son was missing, you'd do anything to find them. I know I would."
"Yeah," T-Dub agreed. Then asked, "You got kids?"
Sheen nodded and said, "Twins."
"No shit. How old are they?"
"Seventeen. Graduating high school at the end of this school year . . . if this school year ever starts."
"Yeah . . . yeah," T-Dub looked out the window at the only town either man had ever lived in. "It's been rough," he added. "But this city will find a way to get back on its feet."
Sheen nodded in agreement.
T-Dub held a meaningful, direct stare on Sheen when he admitted, "I don't sell to our people. I don't sell in Overtown. That's Araña's real estate. Downtown, too. Brownsville, Allapattah, parts of South Beach. I'm mostly in South Miami, parts of Brickell, the outer edges of Little Havana and a few other areas in the southwest."
T-Dub looked out the window, a sad reverence to his demeanor.
"Remember this place before the expressway split it up? Before all that imminent domain shit."
Sheen shared his melancholy tone as he quietly answered, "Yes."
"It was beautiful. Your mama's time. My parents' time. Now look what's happened to it. I ain't gonna be part of making it worse."
T-Dub put his attention back on Sheen and reiterated, "I don't sell to my people."
T-Dub had an older, traditional clan mentality. Trust among other races didn't always come easily. Sometimes it would, once he got to know a person and like, or respect them. And his suspicion was never on the surface. There was certainly a civility he projected with whites, Latinos or others. But push come to shove, he sided with his community.
But Delmon's father was different. He respected that man, and loved him like a father figure that he lacked in his youth. It was far from commonplace when T-Dub was growing up to see an interracial couple like Delmon's parents. It seemed foreign to him. Delmon's family and their situation was the first to challenge Tisdale's separatist ideals.
"It's gonna be a hell of a lot easier to do my job if I can share information with you and coun
t on you to do the same," Sheen said.
"Now, what does that mean?" asked T-Dub.
"That means if you know where Eladio is, if you find him, you gotta let me know."
"When I find him, I'm gonna give him a talking to. He's gonna answer some questions about what the fuck went on down there at that Cuban joint."
"T-Dub, you can't hurt this kid."
"Oh, so there's rules now. You wanna come in here and make these rules that help you out, but what's it do for me?"
"Listen . . ."
Before Sheen could make his argument, T-Dub interrupted by saying, "No, I hear where you're coming from. And I get it. But two police got shot, the man I got issues of territory with and one of my crew. And that shit cannot come back on me. I don't know what this boy had to do with it, but I know he was there. I have to know what the fuck happened, why it happened and whose idea it was. So the young'un is gonna answer my questions. You understand, my brother?"
The response frustrated Sheen. He had no real leverage, and fully understood Tisdale's position, whether he agreed with it or not. All he could try for was the integrity that he knew was still somewhere in Tisdale's character.
"Just give me your word on one thing. You find him, you talk to him, but before you do anything else, you let me come see you," Sheen said.
Tisdale was contemplating it. Sheen added, "Please, as an old friend, give me your word on this one consideration. A man's word stands for something."
That was the echo Sheen needed to put in Tisdale's ear. The familiar saying, both knew from their past that they'd always stayed true to.
"Sometimes that's all he has."
Sheen nodded. "A man's word is his bond."
"Most of what I learned about being a man that didn't come from Coach Harris, I got from your Pops. My father didn't come back from Vietnam well. What little I saw of him . . . it wasn't anything like a father. He was just trying to survive in a world he couldn't adjust to. And I ain't blaming him for none of that. He had his own demons and that's what it was. But that don't change that the man wasn't there for me. But your father was, D. And I never forgot that. A man's word is his bond."
