by Brook Wilder
I had no response to that lame lie. I needed to be alone to think. Luis was a Romeo, but this girl was full of shit.
***
I sat on the porch for an hour smoking a pack of cigarettes. I was planning on quitting again, but not right now. I’d taken it up again in jail to ease the stress of being in a cage, and now my body would need some time to wean off it. With another breath of the calming smoke in my lungs, I closed my eyes and tilted my head to pop my neck. Once relieved of some tension, I resumed taking in my view free from barbed wire or bars.
A blonde walked down the street clutching her bag to her side like it was filled with gold. Her blue eyes were wide and terrified. She was some little red riding hood lost in the big bad city. Not that Mesa was a big city, but the girl was definitely lost. It was obvious she hadn’t planned on being in the Northside. Some app must have listed an address of a shop where she could buy discount hair, handbags, or shoes. Or maybe her car broke down, or her rent-a-ride let her out at the wrong place. White, Black, Asian, or Hispanic rich girls, they were all the same. Color didn’t matter when pampered princesses lost their way down here. All of them were desperate to leave Northside in one piece.
The blonde stumbled when old Diego down the street called out to her from his porch. He whistled at every woman who passed his gate. He’d call out to the grandmothers who walked their grandchildren to the park, but Blondie didn’t know that and his attention made her walk faster.
“Chica! Don’t walk so fast!” he called out in a smooth voice. “Stop and make an old man happy.”
The girl didn’t belong here. Her face looked so innocent she could have been an advertisement for heaven. She was a beacon to all the dirty types who hung in the shadows. Two younger men laughed, and their gazes zeroed in on her. She was in trouble.
“Hey girlie, you heard the old man. Don’t disrespect him like that.”
Looking up at the houses, she walked quickly down the street. I wondered if she was searching for a place to hide. The blonde stumbled again on the broken sidewalk, and the two laughing men started to follow her. They threw taunts in her direction as they neared her, like coyotes stalking prey. They were low-life, petty punks, though I didn’t recognize who they were. They must have been new to the neighborhood.
“Come back, baby, and make an old man happy.” One of the guys grabbed his crotch.
The other man caught up to her and stepped into her path. “Why you have to look so mean? Why can’t you smile?”
He grabbed for her arm, and the girl swung at him with her purse. The man laughed it off like it was a fly landing on a Mac truck.
“Leave me alone,” she hissed.
“Oh, come on, baby. You don’t have to do any of the work. Just sit on my face.”
I’d had enough. The only thing she’d done wrong was attract the attention of two punks. If I let those two clowns pick on her, they’d give everyone in the neighborhood trouble. I knew I wouldn’t even need to stand to get rid of them.
"¡Ya basta!” I shouted. “The girl’s not interested. Don’t be like that, man.”
“It’s not your business,” the thinner guy shouted back, “if I want to talk to a beautiful lady.”
“You see the lady is running away,” I replied.
His friend laughed, but he didn’t. “My business ain’t your business, amigo.”
I hated when white people called me ‘amigo.’ If I hadn’t just gotten out of prison, I’d have kicked his ass. Instead, I rolled up my sleeve so he could see my ink. I had the club marked on my skin. It was the only tattoo I had, and it was the only one I needed. His alert eyes showed his understanding as he and his friend backed away.
“Hey man, I fucked up. I didn’t know she was your piece of ass.”
I smirked as the blonde glared at him, but she knew enough not to correct him. I shrugged and leaned back on the porch step. And like a little lost lamb, the blonde hurried toward me. Unfortunately, now she knew I spoke English, but my plan was still to ignore her and finish my cigarette alone.
“Excuse me,” she said. “Is this number 116?”
“Yeah, you need to call for a ride?”
She hesitated. “I’m looking for my friend.”
I laughed. “You don’t have friends in here.”
“I do if it’s number 116.” She actually raised her voice at me. I stood up figuring my 6’ 2” frame would scare her off, but she was sort of tall for a chica.
“It is 116. But you don’t have any friends here, Little Lamb.”
“Yes, I do,” her voice caught. “My friend Jane is inside. I need to find her. Now.”
Luis had returned earlier with a short brunette in cut-offs sitting behind him on his bike. I shook my head but the blonde misunderstood, thinking I was dismissing her. Oh shit, that did it, all that abuse she’d taken and now, she looked like she was going to cry. That’d be a shame. She was too pretty to cry.
I flicked my cigarette onto the driveway and held my hand out to her. I don’t know why I did it. And I don’t know why she reached out and held it.
“What’s your name, mamacita?” I asked.
She blinked as if I was speaking a foreign language. I’d forgotten that I was. So I repeated myself.
She swallowed hard then said “Felicity.”
“Felicidad?”
“No Felicity.” She put emphasis on the last syllable.
Smiling, I nodded, “I know. It means ‘happiness.’ Let’s try to make you happy again.”
That made her smile.
“You have a pretty smile, Felicity. Come, let’s look for your friend.”
Chapter 3
Felicity
People of all ages, sexes, races, and genders, crowded inside the stucco house. Children played video games on a large screen television, middle-aged women sat in a half circle eating plates of food balanced on their laps, and a man in a nice suit helped an elderly man with his food. A girl about my age wore my exact dress except in lavender. We smiled at each other. I’m ashamed to say I felt relief wash over my body, loosening up some of the tightness in my muscles. I was even more ashamed of my initial discomfort because the man whose hand I held had helped me. His type usually scared me.
I tugged on his hand as we walked toward the back of the house. He looked back at me. “What’s your name?” I asked.
He smiled then said, “Oscar.”
“Oh, I had a cat named Oscar once.” My eyes went wide with embarrassment. I didn’t mean to compare him to a pet, but he chuckled as if I was a real idiot.
We walked along a narrow hallway and into a kitchen. A large woman with dark hair was pulling a cookie sheet out of the oven. She was very pretty in a floral dress with her long braid twisted up into a bun. Yum. The smell of chocolate chip cookies made my stomach growl. The large men seated at the small kitchen table turned and looked at us.
“Mama,” said Oscar, “hand me a chocolate chip, please.”
“You get what you want today, Oscar. Hand him that.”
Wrapped in a napkin, a man passed the cookie to Oscar and Oscar handed it to me.
“Thank you,” I said.
“You’re welcome,” replied Mama. “Your tummy speaks my language.”
The men laughed and I was okay with it. I was starving and it was the best cookie I’d ever tasted. Looking around the room, I admired the beautiful things in it.
“I like your plants, and your mom is so nice,” I gushed as I took another bite.
“Mama, this is Felicity,” said Oscar. “Felicity, this is my mother, Carmen. My cousin, Emilio. And my friend, Fernando.”
The older man at the table offered me a drink. I turned down the beer for an ice tea and stood a little closer to Oscar. A banner across the cabinet read, ‘Welcome home Oscar.’ I hadn’t realized the party was for him. He looked pretty modest to be the center of attention, and I felt special basking in secondhand adoration as his guest. Despite the warm day, Oscar was dressed in jeans, a thermal shirt, a
nd black cowboy boots. His hair rested on his collar and he had the sides tucked back behind his ears. I had thought it was black, but in the light it was deep brown like the color of rich coffee. He felt me staring. He looked at me and I blushed. He gave me an easy smile.
“You have a girlfriend now?”
A brunette stood in the doorway gesturing at me. She wore designer clothing that hugged her firm curves and her polished burgundy nails matched her lipstick. Standing near her in my discount dress and scuffed shoes, I felt as if I had just tumbled out of bed then ran a hard ten miles to get here.
“You work fast, Oscar,” she continued. “You just got out of prison.”
My body stiffened and though I didn’t mean to do it, I dropped the cookie and cup of tea on the floor. Oscar bent to pick up the plastic cup as I tried my best to wipe up the spill with my napkin.
“She’s not my woman, Marisol,” he replied evenly. “She’s a guest in my mother’s home just like you, and she’s looking for her friend.”
While I stooped on the floor to clean up my mess, Marisol had a hand on her hip as she looked down her nose at me. Sometimes, my height is an advantage, so I stood up and towered over her.
“Her name is Jane,” I said.
Marisol scoffed and said something in Spanish I didn’t understand. Without thinking, I held onto my bag and studied the floor with my eyes. I didn’t belong here. I wanted to find Jane and leave.
Mama approached me and handed me another cookie. Her eyes were so kind, like her son’s. “Marisol, you cannot disrespect my guest in my house. Oscar, go find her friend.”
He moved past us toward the kitchen door. I didn’t want to be left alone with those people. I know, that sounds awful. But I didn’t mean it like that. I just didn’t want Oscar to leave me. I knew once he left, Marisol would pick on me in Spanish, and the others would laugh. I shoved the cookie in my purse.
“Wait, I’ll go with you,” I said.
I leapt toward the door, almost knocking Marisol over, and hurried to catch up to Oscar. They laughed at my awkwardness, but I didn’t care. Even though it didn’t make sense, I felt at ease around him. Oscar had helped me when he didn’t have to. I could trust him no matter where we were. He’d been heading upstairs but stopped to wait for me. I looked at him with large eyes. He smiled and held out his hand. I took it and held on as we went on our way.
***
Upstairs, a large man with a thick, black mustache and a shaved head wearing mirrored aviators stood at the end of the hallway by an open window. He stubbed out his cigarette on the windowsill when he saw Oscar approaching. Oscar let my hand go to greet him. The man extended his huge hand, grasped Oscar’s, and then pulled him in for a hug.
“Don’t let Mama see you smoke in the house.”
“I won’t,” he laughed. “Sometimes I think that old lady runs the club.”
“Hey, it’s her house,” replied Oscar.
They laughed again and I let out my breath, reassured the man was okay.
I looked around, taking in the place. The second floor wasn’t as large as the first. The hallway was painted dark green and four doors lined the walls, two on either side. I wondered if Oscar lived here.
“You see Luis with a white girl?” Oscar asked the man.
He nodded his head then pointed at the closed door I stood in front of. The man looked at me then, as if noticing me for the first time, and made a low whistle. I couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but I knew all too well what he was thinking. He made me feel like he could see through my dress. I folded my arms across my chest.
“Who’s that?” he asked.
“Her friend,” replied Oscar. Oscar spoke to the man in Spanish, and the man nodded then went back to ignoring me.
“Hector says your friend’s in there.” He nodded to a door Hector had pointed to.
I turned to knock, but my hand froze just before contacting the wood.
Beyond it, Jane groaned then shouted, “It’s big!” followed by, “Fill me up!”
Then a rhythmic banging and creaking of springs filled the hallway.
“Is that your friend?” asked Oscar.
He smirked as my cheeks burned red. You’d have thought it was me making those noises.
“Yes,” I said quietly. “I recognize her voice.”
Satisfied, Oscar gave a little nod to Hector, then his smirk turned into a laugh as if he just couldn’t contain it anymore. His normally stoic face softened as he laughed so hard he held his stomach and bowed his head. I felt at ease again.
“That was good, Little Lamb," he said wiping his eye. “You live up to your name.”
His eyes sparkled as he looked at me and I laughed, too. He wasn’t a scary man despite his height and his muscles. In fact, I thought he was handsome and no one that good-looking could be bad through and through. I hoped.
“Come,” he took my hand again. “Let’s get a plate from Mama so we can eat all her food.”
Chapter 4
Felicity
The sun was setting, and I was still at Mama’s house having a good time. I was happy, and I didn’t worry about saying the wrong thing because everyone knew I wasn’t a mean-spirited person. Just a little naïve, but they thought it was sweet.
Oscar and I sat on the back porch eating a plate of chicken tamales and fish tacos with mango salsa as we watched the kids running in circles through the yard. It was hard to tell how large the house was from the front, but it stretched many feet and the backyard went all the way to an alley. A row of motorcycles stood parked along the fence. I asked Oscar if he owned a bike. He chuckled.
“Someday maybe I’ll take you on a ride with me.”
I nodded, happy I might see him again.
Despite being stuffed, I started in on another plate of great food. The homemade enchilada was better than anything I’d ever eaten in a Southside restaurant. Mama cooked with love.
We went back inside, and I excused myself then ventured off on my own. Feeling much more at ease in Mama’s house now, I didn’t want to cling to him, or anybody for that matter. An adorable little girl dressed in a princess costume with fairy wings handed me a controller and I played video games with the kids for a while. From my peripheral vision, I noticed Oscar lean into the room to check up on me. I kept my eyes on the game and didn’t look at him, but I smiled.
Later, two of the girls around my age taught me some dance steps. In the family room next to the living room, April, Rhoda, and I stood in a line and moved to the steady beat of the music. Somehow, I possessed some grace and quickly learned the steps. I even shook my hips while doing the two-step.
“Ah,” cried April, “Did you see, Rhoda? Blondie moved her hips.”
“She has good hips, this one,” replied Rhoda. “Nice curvy figure, long blonde hair, and a pretty face. By the way, I love your dress.”
We laughed as we chatted about our favorite shopping sites while Marisol scowled in the corner. She was definitely keeping an eye on me, but she wasn’t going to make me feel self-conscious. Everyone was so nice and eager for me to have a good time. Nothing would ruin my fun. It felt as if I’d become a part of this wonderful family.
April caught my arm and pulled me close. “You should try out your new moves with Oscar,” she whispered in my ear.
Her words made me feel shy again and I prayed I wouldn’t blush. Damned pale skin; I couldn’t ever hide my embarrassment. I bit my lip while I looked at Oscar standing across the room who was never of sight.
I admit he was very handsome. He leaned against the wall with his powerful arms folded across his large chest. His hair no longer behind his ears, it curled under his chiseled chin. He was deep in conversation with another man, and I wouldn’t interrupt him.
But I couldn’t help staring at him.
He caught me looking and winked.
It’s so corny, but my knees weakened. You know when people use a phrase and you think you understand what they mean, but you’ve never had
it happen to you? Well, you don’t truly understand it until it does. I felt like I would literally melt into the floor whenever he looked my way.
But his mother didn’t look happy when she entered the room. She fussed at both men and motioned for them to scatter. Oscar laughed as she swatted him with her oven mitt. She couldn’t hurt him or would ever. It was nice to see a big man like that treat his mother so kindly. I couldn’t imagine why he went to prison.
Oscar walked across the room and stopped in front of me as another song started.
“Let’s dance, Felicity.” He reached out his hand, then tugged me against his hard body.
