“Mom,” I call out.
Her head whips toward me, and her lips form my name. But no sound emits from her throat. Her face lacks color, and she looks like a corpse. My stomach folds in on itself like I’ve taken a bat to my middle, throwing me off stride, and I nearly trip over my feet.
Crossing the lawn to get to Mom I ask, “What’s going on?” My voice breaks on the last vowel betraying my fear.
“Stop right where you are,” the cop who looks ready to draw on me says.
My feet freeze and my hands go up. “Sir, I live here. This is my mom. She’s scared, and frankly so am I. What’s going on?”
Avó steps onto the porch. “Filomena, o que está acontecendo?”
She asks Mom what’s going on, too. Christ. Could this get any worse?
The other cop, the one who isn’t ready to put his gun in his hand says, “I’m Officer Hollenbeck. We’re serving an eviction notice. Your family has three days to leave on your own with your possessions or you’ll be forced out.”
“Wait, what? We are working with the county. The quitclaim was fraudulently filed. We have an attorney.”
Someone who remained hidden behind Officer Hollenbeck steps toward me and says, “The house is ours. If I hear you defame my company again, we’ll sue you and your family to the full extent of the law.”
All the spit in my mouth dries and my vision narrows. The voice belongs to the creeper, Calvin Chadwick, who we evicted from the gym. This is the partner. This is the asshole Phoebe’s mom is protecting. He’s responsible for defrauding Avó? This piece of shit who likes to intimidate women is also responsible for stealing from my family? “Fuck you!”
“Tiago,” Mom admonishes. “Pare.”
Mom tells me to stop, but Avó is more direct and louder. “Tome cuidado com o que você diz.”
Mom hates the f-word like poison, and Avó shouts at me to watch my mouth, but I’m beyond thinking straight.
In my peripheral vision, I see our next-door neighbor, Ben, step out of his house with his cell phone pointed at us, capturing our family’s shame on video. Nothing I can do about it right now. I’ve got to stay focused on the motherfucker responsible for stealing Avó’s house out from underneath her.
I make eye contact with Officer Hollenbeck. “My boss kicked this guy out of his gym because he’s a freaking creeper. Likes to corner women. It makes him feel more like a man.”
“Strong words coming from a cocky little loser. You live here? Not anymore. Why don’t you grab your shit and get the fuck off my property.”
“Hey, old man, come on over and make me. Oh, that’s right. You don’t have any stamina do you?”
I want him to throw the first punch. This walking pile of shit. Calvin Chadwick is the reason people lost their homes. Phoebe’s mother didn’t work alone. Knowing what I know about the kind of asshole Calvin can be, he has to be the force behind it all.
Three days. Three to make this stop.
Calvin charges me.
Mom and Avó both scream, but I can’t reassure them now.
I look forward to whatever pain he unleashes on me. My focus remains on Calvin. As long as he hits me first, I can put him down. I’m going to ram my fist into his throat. I’m going to hurt him for coming after my family. Introduce him to pain like he’s never known.
The second cop, the one acting like Wyatt Earp, grabs Calvin and holds him.
I bare my teeth and make eye contact with Calvin. “Like I said. No. Stamina.”
He struggles to get free. Come on. Come on. Break his hold, you wimp. But the cop proves to be much stronger than the piece-of-shit thief.
“You arrogant little fuck. I repeat, get off my property.” He sneers.
There’s so much rage coursing through my body. The hairs on my arms stands up. My fists clench. And my head nearly explodes when I accept the fact that he’s right. He plans to take something my grandparents spent their lives scrimping, saving and making sacrifices for years in order to purchase.
And stole with a signature.
The wind blows and the coming soon plaque hanging from the Realtor sign sways. It sits about a yard to my right. Everything inside me coalesces into one bright red splotch of pain. I spin and kick that fucking sign down with one strike.
Before I can blink, Officer Hollenbeck knocks me to the ground, draws my hands behind my back, and cuffs me.
My face gets smashed into the lawn, I’ve got Dad’s prized grass in my mouth, and I can’t see a thing. But my hearing works. Perfectly. I hear Mom make a sound between a scream and a wail.
First, she cries, “Tiago!” And then with even more terror pitched in her voice. “Mãe!”
My heart stops. Something happened to Avó for Mom to make that sound. And just like that, I realize what a selfish prick I am. I’ve focused on my anger and not what’s happening to my family at this moment. There’s a thud, and Officer Hollenbeck steps off my back.
I raise my head and see Mom and Officer Hollenbeck run to Avó where’s she’s fallen across the front porch.
I rock myself up to my knees, but the other cop—the one who has less control—grabs me by the shoulders and knocks me to the grass. “Stay put,” he says.
It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever been asked to do. Stay in place while my family, especially my grandmother, needs me.
“If I promise not to move, will you check on her? On both of them. Please.”
He stares down at me.
“I’m sorry I caused trouble. Please, they’re my family. Please make sure they’re safe.”
“Sure, kid,” he says as he hurries across our lawn to join the others at the porch to check on Avó.
Calvin shifts his focus to me. While everyone attends to Avó, he calmly walks toward me. I know he’s going to do something nasty. He telegraphs his intent much like a defender will when he plans to flatten me after I’ve kicked the ball.
Calvin has unnecessary roughness written all over his face.
Ben calls out, “Hey, asshole. Stop! He’s just a kid.”
Officer Hollenbeck’s gaze zeroes in on my face but he’s too far away to stop Calvin.
The last thing I see is Calvin’s dress shoe right before it connects with my face.
*
Someone shakes my shoulder. “Arroookay?”
I can’t understand what the voice says. It’s too far away and I might be underwater. I’m breathing, so that can’t be it. But it sounds like I’m in the bath with my head submerged while someone explains trigonometry to me.
I try to open my eyes, but it’s like my brain can’t remember how to lift the lids. I’m immobile. My hands are stuck behind my back. Useless. Like one more thing my brain can’t operate. I don’t understand.
Another voice. “Tiago.” My name stretched out and elongated. Why would someone do that? It’s a simple name. I haven’t heard Dad’s voice in months, but his shout sounds loud and clear to me even though I know I’m hearing things.
There’s pressure on my shoulder, like someone pushing down. Why? I feel like I’m flat on my face. There’s nowhere for me to go. I try to open my eyes again. I’m able to crack open one eye. Not much, but enough to see navy-blue pants.
“Son, are you okay?”
“Why can’t I move my arms?”
“You’re cuffed. Do you remember what happened?”
I hear Mom. She’s reciting the Lord’s Prayer in Portuguese. I turn my head. I see Dad sprawled in the doorway combat-crawling to the porch. Now I’m hallucinating. I close my eye and count to five. Drawing air in and releasing it, I lose track. Trying to make sense of what I know can’t be true. I focus on the door again, but it’s empty.
The fog in my head clears. Calvin. The sign. Kicking me in the face. And my heart jackhammers in my chest. Did I lose vision in my eye? Is that why I can’t see out of my left eye? “What’s wrong with my eye?”
“I’m no eye doctor, but your eye is swollen shut. I’m not going to lie to you. You need to get to t
he hospital. Do you want to press charges?”
I try to make sense of the words. My mind narrows on Calvin Chadwick. That bastard. “Yes, please.”
“I’m obliged to tell you he’s pressing charges against you for vandalizing his sign.”
Fuck me. I guess we’ll have to sort that out. Then a memory of Avó draped across the steps forms. “Oh, shit.” I try to move again but pain seers my brain and my right eye wheels in my head, trying to focus. I retch, bile strings out of my mouth like phlegm. I can’t wipe my mouth.
“My grandmother,” I croak. “Is she okay?”
There’s a slight hesitation to his answer. “They’re taking good care of her.”
Oh fuck. “Who’s they? What happened?”
“Listen, I’m sorry. We called an ambulance. There seems to be more going on here than a simple eviction.”
“Yes. But tell me about my grandmother, please.”
“She fainted. But at her age, they want to make sure she didn’t hurt herself when she lost consciousness. The EMTs will take her to Silicon Valley Trauma. They just loaded her in.”
I swallow hard. “Calvin Chadwick stole my grandmother’s house with a signature. My grandmother got nothing in exchange.”
Officer Hollenbeck’s gaze sharpens. “Do you have proof?”
“What we have is a house that was paid in full that now belongs to Calvin Chadwick and company. No money changed hands. Do you think my grandmother would just sign over her house to this jerk? They’ve done this before in Las Vegas.”
“Who are you working with on this?”
“Detective Cabrillo, from the fraud division.”
“Okay, kid. I’ll reach out to him, let him know what’s going on.”
“Thank you.” I haven’t heard Mom since I first came around. “Did my mom go with my grandmother to the hospital?”
“No. She said she couldn’t leave your dad. She called someone to come to the house to stay with him.”
I close my good eye. Mom has been through so much. And I’ve added to everything. I’m so fucking careless. “Am I under arrest?”
“The sign isn’t worth all that much, likely a misdemeanor offense. But my hands are tied until we figure it out. Let’s get that eye looked at. We’ll take you to Silicon Valley Trauma as well. That way your mom will have access to you both once she’s got your dad sorted out.”
He uncuffs my hands. They drop to the ground at my sides, asleep. Worthless. My breath hitches. I’ve gone from anger to absolute despair. “Can I talk to my mom before we go?”
“Sure, kid.” He calls out, “Barnes. Get his mother out here.”
Barnes says, “Give her a minute—she’s helping get him back inside.”
Huh? I don’t follow. Calvin better not be in the house. The fuck. “What about Calvin? Where did he go?”
“He’s sitting in the squad car, and none too politely. Barnes will take him in. I’ll take you to the hospital. Listen, your neighbor recorded everything. That might work to your favor.”
“Not if my coach sees me cuffed on my own front lawn. I’m supposed to go to UNR tomorrow for a game.” What a shitshow.
“Tiago,” Mom cries. “Your eye. Oy. Meu deus.”
She can’t get near me because I’ve screwed up so badly. “I’m okay. Please don’t worry. I’m sure it looks worse than it feels. I’m sorry. Mãe, me perdoe.”
I ask for her forgiveness. Even though I don’t deserve it. “Avó. How is she?”
“She’s in the ambulance. They will take care of her.” Mom’s voice sounds raw. Panic and pain changing the sound to something I almost don’t recognize. “I’m waiting for Sra. Silva to come to the house. Your daddy… Oy meu deus.” She makes the sign of the cross. “Then we’ll go.”
“Mãe, I can’t go with you. I’m going to have to go to Silicon Valley Trauma with Officer Hollenbeck. I have to stay with him until we straighten this out.”
“Tiago.” Her breath hitches. “Don’t tell me you’re going to jail!”
She must direct this next bit directly to Officer Hollenbeck. “Please. He’s a good boy. That man.” Her breath stutters. “He steals my mother’s home. How can he do this, and my son has to go to jail? But this…this thief, he can take her house without paying and throw us on the street?”
“Mom.” My head hurts so bad I might barf again. I close my good eye to try and focus on what she needs to do next. Praying that feeling returns to my hands so I can get on my feet. “Please call the attorney. Tell him what happened.”
“This isn’t right. We did nothing wrong. My parents worked all their lives to pay for this house. That’s what he steals from us. Where are we supposed to go? Am I supposed to put my husband’s hospital bed in the street?” she screeches.
“Mãe, I know. Please understand the police have to follow the law. And right now, that man has a paper that says he’s the owner of this house. That he has the right to sell it.”
Mom’s crying. I can’t offer comfort. I can’t do a damn thing but help her to focus on our next move. “This isn’t over yet. Just call the attorney, figure out what we can do to stop the sale for now.”
Mom launches into a string of bad words in Portuguese. Filthy words come from her mouth. All aimed at Calvin. I’m equal parts impressed by her creativity and shocked she even knows those words and how to phrase them. Mom doesn’t use hard language. Her tirade sounds farther away. She must be heading for the landline. All I can feel is relief.
“Can we go now? I want to check on my grandmother.”
“Are you able to roll to your knees?”
“I think so.” But it took much more effort than I expected. Needles prick my hands. A high-pitched clanging begins in my right ear—like a kid knocking two pans against each other to create maximum noise—throws me off-balance. The vision in my right eye, the good one, is completely distorted. I’ve got crystallized clusters of shapes wheeling in my peripheral vision like snowflakes. Fuck.
I know the signs. I’ve got a concussion.
I can’t open my left eye. My anxiety cranks with each second my eye remains sealed shut. All these worries twist and fight for supremacy in my head. If pain had a color it would be white, yellowing around the edges like a gray T-shirt with a large bleach spot.
I try to roll to my knees. It feels like all my natural athleticism has drained from me. “I can’t seem to move my body without the use of my hands, which are asleep. And I’m pretty sure I have a concussion.”
“I’ll help you.”
He lifts me by my shoulders, and I’m on my knees. Unsteady, but mostly upright.
An EMT runs over. “Why did you let him move? He might need a backboard.”
“I don’t. I know the signs. My neck is fine.”
He checks my good eye. “The only thing I can do for you is to bandage your eye. I’m not going to force drops into it at this point. You’re better off going in for a CT scan.”
“Thanks,” I tell him after he presses tape to my cheek to keep the bandage in place.
“Let’s get you on your feet,” Officer Hollenbeck says.
“Sure.” The ambulance takes off. Two ideas are flashing in my head. Eye. Avó. Eye. Avó. The sooner we get to the hospital, the sooner I’ll get a handle on both.
Hollenbeck guides me to his cruiser. His hand presses down on my head and I feel explosions go off behind my good eye. I must have made some kind of sound. Because he removes his hand.
“Sorry, kid. Just sit tight. We’ll get you in to a doctor.”
“Yeah.” There’s nothing left to do. I got myself into this mess. I mean, Asshole Calvin took it upon himself to try to launch my head through imaginary goalposts. If I hadn’t kicked his sign down, I wouldn’t be worried about detached retinas, permanent blindness or Avó.
Over the relentless clanging in my ear I hear Mom call out my name.
She must have been running because she’s completely out of breath when she says, “I talked to the lawyer. He’s going
to come to the hospital. He needs to talk to you. And your avó. He says maybe we can stall the sale.”
“Okay, that’s good. Just come to Silicon Valley Trauma when you can.”
“I will. Tiago, estou com medo.”
Mom’s afraid. That makes two of us.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Phoebe
Riding home from school I can’t seem to wipe the smile off my face. Another first: I had an orgasm during sex. A self-fulfilling prophecy is at play here. I joked about falling for him, but I knew even then I spoke the truth.
I love Tiago.
Maybe that’s what’s been missing in my life. The absence of love or even affection. It’s different. Making love versus just having sex. I can take care of my own sexual needs, but Tiago took care of my desires. He helped me to understand the full spectrum of mind, body and spirit merging to become one. Intimacy.
It’s what I lacked with Rudy the ventriloquist, then Michael.
I shudder.
That’s in the past. What I’m building with Tiago feels important and sustainable, unlike my relationship with Mom. I certainly hope so. A novel concept for a girl who has never had an actual relationship.
Little sparks of electricity ride along my veins.
I can’t stop smiling.
Parking my bike where I’m allowed to leave it, I make my way to Grams’s apartment.
Unlocking the door, I call out, “Grams, I’m home.”
“Hello, darling,” Grams says as she steps out of her galley-style kitchen. “How was your day?”
She glances at my face.
“Oh. I see it was a good one. You’re glowing.”
“Definitely a good day.” Grinning, I kiss her cheek. “I’ve got to shower and get to work. And pack to stay with Agnes later.”
“Phoebe.” Grams chews her bottom lip. “I’m so sorry you have to play musical beds.”
“Not a problem at all. I’m grateful to you all for giving me a place to stay.”
“You are such a delight to me,” she says pulling me in for a hug.
“Ditto. Now I’ve got to hurry. I haven’t much time.”
I shower quickly, throwing things into my backpack. I pull my laptop from the bag, since I won’t need it until tomorrow at the soonest. I will need my phone charger. Checking the battery life of my mobile, I realize I’m down to three percent. Oh well, I’ll have to charge it while I work.
Eyeful (Gladiators of the Gridiron Book 2) Page 24
