Run the Risk

by Allison van Diepen

  “You’re not.” My eyes had misted up, but not from sadness. “I think you’ve got a good thing going there.”

  “I’m glad you’re cool with it.” Smiling, he ate some more chips. “It’s a sweet city. Better than Miami. The people are so chill. Everybody here’s always stressing, looking for drama.”

  “It’s the right decision.” I’d been hoping he would stay in Atlanta. He’d have parents there, and could start fresh at a new school in the fall. He wouldn’t have to be looking over his shoulder.

  “I know you’ll miss me, since I was so great to live with,” he said wryly.

  There wasn’t much I could say to that. He’d made my life hell over the past year. I went over and hugged him. I had no doubt that Mom would be happy with his decision.

  “Dad wants to know if you still want to live in this house,” he said. “Maybe he’ll sell it and use some of the money to help you rent a place.”

  I looked around. I’d thought about it too. It would be painful to leave this house and all its memories, but it might be the right thing. “It’s too much space for just me. I’ll talk to him about it. Maybe I’ll find an apartment near campus.”

  “Makes sense. So what’s your plan tonight?” Alex asked. “I’ve been craving Rico’s Pizza, I won’t lie. That’s the only thing that pisses me off about Atlanta—the pizza. It’s the thin, wood-fired oven kind. Now the ribs and fried chicken, they’re ridiculous.”

  “Actually . . . I’m going out tonight.” I hadn’t told him about the Pitbull concert. I’d been planning on telling him after the fact. I knew he’d be upset to miss it, and if I told him about the backstage passes, he’d freak. “Hang on. Let me make a call.”

  He put up a hand. “You don’t have to change your plans for me. I knew you’d have stuff going on. Plus, I gotta pack up all my stuff.”

  “I know, but just wait a minute.”

  I grabbed my phone, went upstairs and called Mateo.

  “Ready when you are,” he answered.

  “You’re gonna hate me, but there’s been a change of plans.”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve decided to take Luke instead,” he said, but I heard the laughter in his voice.

  “It’s just that Alex is in town.”

  There was a pause. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah. He came home to pack his things. Just showed up at the door. You know how he worships Pitbull. It’s a serious obsession for him. I’d like to bring him if you’re okay with it.”

  “Of course, but . . . I don’t think it’s a good idea for him to go out in public.”

  “We’ve got box seats. There are going to be thousands of people there. What are the chances anyone he knows will spot him, much less one of the Locos? I think it’s okay. Don’t you?”

  He hesitated. “I guess. Just promise me you’ll stay in the box and won’t go wandering all over the place.”

  “Of course not. Box, then backstage. That’s it.”

  “All right. I’ll drop you guys off. See you soon.” He hung up.

  I went back into the living room where Alex was watching TV. “Plans have changed. You’re coming with me.”

  “Where we going?”

  I went over to my purse, pulled out the tickets and backstage passes. “Want to go see Mr. Worldwide?”

  Alex’s eyes bulged, and he leaped off the couch. “Are you kidding me?”

  An hour later, Mateo showed up. Alex and I hopped into his car.

  “Mateo!” Alex said. “How’s it going?”

  “All right—other than the fact that you stole my date.” Mateo backed out of the driveway. “How’s Atlanta treating you?”

  “It’s a sick place. I’ve got lots to tell you. We’ll hang out after the concert, right?”

  “Definitely. I’ll pick you guys up. Does anybody know you’re in town?”

  “Just Dad and Carol Ann.”

  “Good.”

  If Mateo thought it was a real risk, he would’ve argued with me. According to his friend the snitch, there was no campaign to find Alex these days. The Locos had bigger problems right now: the Destinos.

  “How’s life as a paramedic?” Alex asked.

  “Intense. You learn a lot on the job that you never learned in school. I’m still considered a trainee for the first few months, but I’m getting paid now.”

  “That’s cool. I’m gonna be getting paid too. I got a job at the gym where I do mixed martial arts. I’ll be working at the front desk, giving out towels and answering the phone.”

  “You didn’t tell me that!” I said, turning back to look at him.

  “I just got the call yesterday. I start next week. I’ll even get a free membership.”

  “It’ll feel good to have some cash flow,” Mateo said. “You’ll see.”

  Mateo dropped us off a short time later, as close to the gates as he could get. He tossed Alex a black-and-orange Orioles cap. “Wear this. Remember, go right to the box. Text me half an hour before you want a pickup. I don’t want you waiting out in the open. I’ll text you when I get here.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “We’ll be careful.”

  “Hey, Alex,” Mateo said, over his shoulder. “If Pitbull makes a move on your sister, tell him she’s taken.”

  Alex grinned. “Sure.”

  I laughed, giving Mateo a kiss before shutting the door.

  God, I loved him.

  Our seats were in a swanky box with cushy, movie-theater-style chairs. A rich-looking family was in there with us—two parents, a glamorous dark-haired girl of about sixteen, four of her fancy friends, and a boy who looked about ten. He was playing a game on his iPad, scowling as if he didn’t want to be there.

  Alex and I claimed our seats in the front corner of the box and looked at each other, bursting with excitement.

  A waiter came in. He took a long order from the family, then approached us, asking if we’d like drinks or food.

  “Is it free?” I asked quietly.

  The waiter nodded. “Included in your ticket price.”

  “I’ll have a hot dog,” Alex said. “And a beer.”

  The waiter lifted an eyebrow.

  “Okay, Pepsi then.”

  “Diet 7UP and a bag of chips,” I said.

  When the waiter left, Alex looked out across the packed stadium. “I can’t believe this! How much did you pay for the tickets?”

  “Nothing. My boss gave them to me.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yep.”

  He looked puzzled. “Did you have to sleep with him or something?”

  “No, he’s not like that.” I smirked. “His friend is running security here, so he got them free. He knows I’m Pitbull- obsessed.”

  The stadium lights went down, and the stage lit up. We had an incredible view. Thousands of people suddenly hushed.

  When Nayer appeared on stage in a flowing Cleopatra- style gown, illuminated by dozens of white lights, Alex jumped out of his seat and whooped for joy. He worshipped Nayer and had a poster of her in a leather bathing suit on his bedroom wall. She’d recorded a few songs with Pitbull and was from Miami too, so it was no surprise that she was opening for him.

  Alex watched, riveted, salivating over his dream girl.

  We cheered and danced.

  When Nayer sang “Suavemente,” Mohombi joined her on stage, giving the females in the stadium some eye candy. Pitbull came out, rapping his part of the song. We hollered our heads off. I’d have no voice tomorrow, but it was worth it.

  Next, Pitbull performed “Give Me Everything,” and Nayer joined him. Mohombi sang Ne-Yo’s part. It was one of my all-time favorite songs. Alex and I went wild, dancing and screaming.

  I looked over at Alex and felt a surge of happiness. Was I really at a Pitbull concert with my brother? Had we actually become friends? After everything that had happened this past year, it was a miracle. I blinked back tears.

  When “Fireball” came on, we lost our minds. Alex got up on his seat and
pumped his arms. I felt a tap on my leg. It was the scowling boy with the iPad. He pointed to the Jumbotron.

  Alex was on the huge screens, dancing like a crazy person.

  “Get down!” I grabbed Alex’s arm and yanked him to his seat. “Camera’s on you!”

  He sat down quickly, pulling the ball cap over his eyes. Within seconds, the camera had focused on a group of blondes in bikini tops.

  “How long was I on?” Alex asked, dashing sweat from his forehead.

  “I have no idea. Probably just a few seconds.” No need to panic, I told myself. But my pulse was racing.

  Alex didn’t look troubled at all. In fact, he was grinning.

  The next hour was a blur of awesomeness.

  Pitbull gave a grand bow after his last song and walked offstage. But the whole stadium cheered him back on. “Pit-bull! Pit-bull!” Thousands of stomping feet made the stadium shake.

  I touched Alex’s shoulder. “We should head backstage now.”

  “But he’s gonna do another song!”

  “We can beat the crowd. I want to make sure we actually get to meet him.”

  “Good point.”

  He followed me out of the box. We heard the crowd go ballistic as Pitbull came back onstage. I hated to miss the last song, but it was worth it if we got to meet him. Backstage passes were never a guarantee, and we had no idea how many people had them.

  I didn’t know where the backstage area was, so I asked a security guard and he gave us directions. “Down the hall over there. Just follow the twists and turns until the end. There’ll be a sign.”

  We hurried down the twisting hallway, laughing like little kids. It took a whole five minutes to reach the end of the hall, but once we did, we knew we’d arrived at the right place. The sign said: “Secured Backstage Area. Passes Only.” There was a security guard with a red badge around his neck.

  We held out our backstage passes.

  He took a careful look, then nodded. “You’ll be first in line. It’s your lucky day.”

  We glanced at each other in disbelief. Meeting Pitbull was our dream, and it was coming true.

  We were in a high-ceilinged area that looked like a large, mostly empty stockroom. Heavy doors and black curtains separated us from the real backstage area. I could hardly keep still as we waited. Gradually, more fans joined us. The room buzzed with anticipation.

  Pitbull appeared. It was like something out of a dream, with everything going into slow motion. Alex and I were told to move up. We were standing just five feet away from Mr. Worldwide himself. I was having heart palpitations.

  Pitbull wore his trademark white suit. He was sweaty from the performance, laughing with his security guards about something.

  He was beautiful.

  One of the security guards, a heavyset black guy, curled his finger at Alex and me. We approached Pitbull. “Hey, there,” he said with a dazzling smile.

  Oh my God!

  We both said hi.

  My phone was trembling. Or my hand was trembling. Could I do it? Ask for a picture?

  “You were amazing,” I managed to say. “Just amazing!” I sounded like an ass, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  “Sickest concert ever!” Alex said.

  Pitbull’s grin melted me. “I aim to please. How about a picture?”

  He’d read my mind! Or maybe it was what everybody wanted. Still. “That would be great,” I said, looking down at my phone. A text from Mateo was on the screen.

  911. Locos know you’re there. Find cops and stay with them.

  I dropped my phone. It smacked the cement floor.

  This couldn’t be happening. This had to be a nightmare.

  I turned to Alex. “We have to go.”

  Alex looked at me like I was crazy. “But don’t you want a pic?”

  Pitbull frowned, more perceptive than my brother. “Is everything okay, honey?”

  “The Locos are coming for you!” I shouted at Alex. His eyes went huge.

  We had to run.

  I spotted an emergency exit at the far end of the room. If we ran out there, there would likely be cops nearby. I’d spotted plenty of them earlier.

  “That way,” I said to Alex.

  My heart stopped.

  Too late.

  They’d found us.

  A group of four Locos blew past the security guard at the room’s entrance. The guard shouted, running after them.

  The Locos paid no attention—they were fixated on Alex.

  They came at him like a car crash, fists flying. I screamed. I lunged at one of the guys who was attacking Alex, kicking, biting. A fist flew into my face, and I stumbled back, tasting blood.

  The scene was like something out of a nightmare. Several feet away, Pitbull’s two security guys were hauling him away. Pitbull was struggling to get away from them, shouting at them. In a flash of awareness, I knew Pitbull had realized that the threat wasn’t against him, but us—but his security hadn’t figured it out.

  Alex was on the floor, not moving. A huge Loco threw him over his shoulder.

  “Noooo!” I screamed.

  The Locos hustled him toward the back of the room, blasting through the emergency exit. Alarms went off. I ran after them, screaming with everything I had. One of them turned and grabbed me so tightly his fingernails cut into my skin.

  Animale.

  His green eyes met mine. “Santo’s getting his. Ain’t nothing you can do about it.”

  I struggled in his grip, kicking at his shins. He shook his head, unimpressed. Behind him, I saw Alex get dumped in the trunk of a red sports car.

  “Hasta luego, Grace,” Animale said with a smile. He jumped into the front seat and the car sped off.

  I ran after it. It got farther and farther away, but I kept running. It was weaving around other cars, trying to get out of the crowded parking lot.

  A horn blared, and brakes squealed behind me.

  Mateo.

  “The red car,” I shouted. “He’s in the trunk!”

  Mateo nodded and floored the gas.

  I stopped running. I hugged myself as my insides broke apart. They were planning to kill Alex. There was no doubt in my mind. And I was powerless to stop them.

  Mateo was blasting through the parking lot, dodging cars, people, gathering speed. He was Alex’s only chance.

  A strange stillness came over me. After all Alex and I went through, was this how it was going to end? After he’d changed his life, were the Locos going to end it?

  I watched, heart in my throat, as Mateo gained on the red sports car. Somehow, he’d almost caught up to them. But the Locos were about to clear the parking lot and turn onto the highway. If they made it to the busy highway, the chances of Mateo catching them were almost nonexistent.

  He wasn’t going to let that happen.

  A huge crashing sound rang out as Mateo rammed the back of the sports car at full speed.

  The Locos spun out, smashing into a traffic light pole. I stared in wordless horror as Mateo’s car careened onto its left side, then flipped once, twice.

  I ran toward the crash scene. The concrete of the parking lot stretched before me for what seemed like miles. My feet simply couldn’t run any faster, but I kept going. I had to get to them.

  Mateo’s car exploded.

  Noooo!

  A cloud of fire spurted up from Mateo’s car.

  I stumbled forward, my feet bloodied, sweat dripping into my eyes. By the time I reached the scene, there were several cop cars, ambulances. A crowd had gathered. I tried to push through it, but a police officer thrust me away. “Stay back!”

  I found another way through the crowd and ran up to an ambulance just as they were closing its back doors.

  “Who’s in there?” I asked desperately, but the paramedic ignored me and jumped into the driver’s seat. He drove off, blaring the siren.

  More ambulances were coming. I saw stretchers. One guy was covered in blood. I didn’t even know who—

  “Grac
e!”

  Alex’s arms went around me. He gripped me tight, sobbing into my shoulder. “They told me they were g-gonna kill me.”

  I pulled away. “Where’s Mateo? Did you see him? Did he get out?”

  He looked confused. “Mateo? What do you mean?”

  “He’s the one who crashed into you!” I shouted. “He’s the one who stopped them!”

  “I’m right here,” came a voice from behind me.

  I turned, and my knees almost buckled with relief. Blood dripped from a gash in Mateo’s forehead.

  “You got out!” I sobbed into his chest.

  His face was buried in my hair. “I told you, when your engine’s busted, you have to get outta there.”

  Alex’s arms were around us both now. He was crying and thanking Mateo over and over. Mateo eventually pulled away and told him to calm down. “We have to deal with the cops and make sure those bitches get put away for what they did. Do you hear me?”

  “Okay.” But Alex was shaking. “A-Animale said he was gonna cut—”

  “Animale is dead,” Mateo told him. “He went through the windshield.”

  “Oh.” Alex’s expression went from horror to relief. “Oh.”

  I had the giggles.

  It might be strange to have the giggles on the most traumatic day of your life, especially in the waiting room of a police station. But there it was.

  Although Alex, Mateo, and I had given our statements hours ago, the cops wanted us to stick around. We were hoping it wasn’t because they were planning to arrest Mateo. He’d explained why he had to ram the car. There must be enough witnesses for the cops to put together what had happened.

  As we sat there, Alex scrolled through the headlines on his phone. Apparently the incident had made national news.

  “Kidnapping at Pitbull Concert”

  “Pitbull Caught in Gang Vendetta”

  TMZ posted pictures of Pitbull, wide-eyed, being dragged away from the fight by his security guards.

  I giggled.

  Mateo looked at me with concern, but I showed him the pictures, and he admitted it was sort of funny.

  When Alex got up to use the bathroom, I asked Mateo, “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  I could see that he wasn’t fine. He must be as shaken up as Alex and me, he just dealt with it in a quieter, saner way.