by Brook Wilder
Mrs. Perez paused. She closed her eyes and rested her hand on her forehead. Jane put her hand on the woman’s knee and Mrs. Perez held Jane’s hand as if it gave her strength to continue her story.
“They shot my husband because of the girl. They accused him of stealing their property. The girl ran away but to where I don’t know, and I don’t care. My stupidity cost my husband his life. They’re dangerous men.”
“But Oscar isn’t like that,” I said weakly.
“I know Oscar,” she continued. “He was a sweet boy after my husband was shot. They had lived in the building, and he and Carmen took care of me. It broke my heart when he joined the Cazadores, but when they ask, you join, or you die.”
No one spoke for a time. I hadn’t wanted to hear those things, but I wasn’t stupid. My sister had been shot and raped by men from an MC. Maybe not the Cazadores, but she had been shot because of them and their ways. They weren’t law-abiding people, and I was trying hard to rationalize it away so I could stay in love. I hadn’t realized I was crying until Jane put her arms around me, and Mrs. Perez was by my side.
“Her sister was shot by someone from a club,” Jane explained. “The person was never caught.”
“I’m so sorry,” Mrs. Perez hugged my shoulders.
“And she’s in love with Oscar,” Jane added.
I glared at Jane.
“Sorry, but you cashed in your V-card to him.”
Mrs. Perez crossed herself and I told Jane to shut up.
She ignored me and spoke to Mrs. Perez. “And she is Sheriff West’s daughter.”
Mrs. Perez threw her hands in the air as she looked to the heavens. “Oh, she’s got it bad.”
“Yeah. And she’s hooked on him,” replied Jane.
“Stop it, you two,” My voice was firm, but I didn’t shout. “I don’t have it bad and I’m not hooked.” I shook them both off me, but I threw myself back onto the couch and started to cry in earnest. “I don’t know what to do. I love him, but my father will go insane if he ever finds out.”
Mrs. Perez put her hands on her hips. For a moment, she looked like my mom. “You girls are playing with matches while soaked in gasoline. You’re lucky I’m soft. Park the bikes all the way in the back. No colors. Come on, Chiquita.” She swatted my thigh with her hand. “Come to my apartment. I’ll make some tea and counsel you both on life.”
I looked at Jane and said through my tears, “I guess you’re moving in.”
We all laughed. Mr. Perez told us to call her ‘Rosa’ and Jane signed the lease before we left that day.
Chapter 15
Felicity
Rosa Perez was very sweet, kind, and understanding. For two hours, she mothered us with milky tea, homemade cinnamon sugar cookies, and advice. I knew Rosa meant well. But by the end of our visit, I needed time alone from her and Jane. Rosa had convinced Jane that anyone involved with the Cazadores was bad news. I knew it was a dangerous cliché the second the thought entered my mind, but they just didn’t know Oscar the way I knew him. I watched him at the soup kitchen with the forgotten elderly, the battered women, and the fatherless children. I saw Oscar assist those who life had abandoned.
But I’d wondered that night why he hadn’t taken his own mother to the hospital. Why had he stayed behind at the house? Rosa made it clear that if Emilio had told Oscar to stay put, Oscar had to stay put, mother or not. I felt shaken by that. Could Oscar be that deep in the club that he couldn’t think for himself, or put anyone else above the Cazadores?
After we arrived home at my parents’ house, I went outside onto the patio and stared at the picture of Oscar and me on my phone. The woman at the restaurant was right. We did look good together, but I didn’t want just that. I wanted to grow old together.
I tapped on his number and waited for him to pick up.
“Felicity?”
“Hi Oscar, I thought I would call.”
“Si, you need something?”
“No,” I replied quietly, “I just wanted to talk.”
There was no noise in the background. I couldn’t guess where he was that he couldn’t talk, but then it occurred to me.
“I’m sorry, Oscar. Are you with your mother?”
“No, look, I’ll meet you later. Okay?”
“Okay.” I disconnected the call, but I could tell by his curt response that he’d already hung up. Was this how it started? He’d had his fun with me, and now all I was to him was just another woman who had shared his bed.
The day was only half over, but I felt drained, exhausted, and lonely. I’d waited for the right man. Not the ‘perfect match’ my parents wanted for me, but the one they always shielded me from. The one I knew was the wrong choice. I picked the man I believed could protect me, but who was going to protect me from him when he broke my heart?
I wanted to cry again. I felt foolish and used. I wanted him to reassure me and convince me he would always be the man who had swept me off my feet. Not a proud man or rich man, but a decent man. I wanted him to prove us all wrong, but I knew Rosa, and even my parents, were right. Oscar was so cold now that he’d had me.
I took a deep breath, and thought about Faith. She’d have shrugged it off and moved on. Faith had gotten rid of her virginity like it was a bad cold that needed to be cured.
I rested my forehead on my arm and took a ragged breath. Timid footsteps approached me.
“Fee?”
“Yes, Jane?” My voice was plaintive.
“You okay?”
I nodded, but best friends know when you’re lying. She rested her hand on my side.
“Rosa only wanted to warn us. I’m sure Oscar wouldn’t hurt you...on purpose.”
I wiped the telling tears away. “I think he already has.”
Chapter 16
Oscar
The Mesa Park was always empty of children. Mothers didn’t stop here anymore unless they wanted to score. I sat on the back of a park bench with my feet on the broken seat and thought. Felicity was upset with me. I could tell by the sound of her voice, but I’d make it up to her. The way I’d make it up to Mama. For years, Mama had asked me to quit the club, but instead, I bought her a house. She asked again when they shot Dad. Instead, I’d hunted down his killer, relying on my Cazador brothers to take care of things at home while I did so. Mama would ask me to quit again, and there wasn’t anything else left to give her. I wondered what I would need to do to keep Felicity from asking.
Emilio heard from a snitch that the bikes from the drive-by were registered to the Nation. We didn’t have problems with the Outlaw Nation MC. Jamal Miller and his crew stuck to stolen cars and ran their chop shops in the city.
It didn’t make sense. Why would the Nation ride over to our territory and shoot at the Cazadores? But the snitch had specifically named Jamal, so it was my job to find him. I wouldn’t today, though. I had time to do it tomorrow. I’d go to the soup kitchen and find Felicity, figure out what I’d done wrong. I wished I’d had the time to find out earlier. I’d been waiting for Emilio’s call.
Maybe I hadn’t followed through last night. Women like to cuddle and shit. I’d never been with someone I cared enough to think about things like that. Next time I’d do better, but now I needed to apologize.
***
The people were lined up an hour before the door opened. We had good food and I made sure everyone who wanted a plate got one. There was no reason to treat a poor person badly. Everyone had the potential to hit bottom. I learned that in prison. Sometimes, you come back up again and sometimes you stay down, but we’ve all been there. It’s a flip of the coin if you’re lucky in life. And right now, with a good woman who loved me, I considered myself very fortunate.
I shook my head when I noticed Jamal in line talking to a homeless woman. He was easy to spot; a big man almost my height and weight, but black instead of Hispanic. Jamal had the nerve to wear his badge in Cazadores territory, but I didn’t see his bike.
I didn’t know why he was here, but
he wasn’t waiting for food. The Nation had started their own soup kitchen, but Hector said it was to recruit and sell. Emilio was adamant we keep our kitchen clean.
“Jamal?”
He froze when he saw me. I could tell by his eyes that he wasn’t sure how he was going to play this. He wouldn’t run, though. He was no coward.
The woman he’d been talking to took a step back and looked away. Her hair was wrapped in a bandanna and she wore a long denim coat. Her pale face sagged, and her pupils were pinpricks in the middle of her bloodshot eyes. She looked strung out. I hadn’t seen her before, and I’d been doing this enough that I recognized the regulars.
Jamal knew he was in the wrong, so he decided to be friendly.
“Oscar,” he held up his hands to let me know he wasn’t reaching for a gun. “I heard you were out of prison, and now, you’re saving the poor. Doing community service, my man?”
“I did all my time,” I smirked, playing the game.
A couple people eyed us. Some of these people would know our colors and knew what it meant when we greeted each other without a handshake or a hug.
“No need for that. You won’t see me picking up trash on the highway.”
We laughed, but not as friends. We were biding our time.
“Look, I’m not staying,” he continued. “Just had to have a talk with one of my constituents.” We chuckled again over his allusion to Emilio’s campaign.
I just wanted to punch his face and get it over with. But first, I needed to find out if he really was the one responsible for the shooting.
“Look, we need to talk, but not here.”
Jamal hesitated. He knew I meant around the corner and out of sight. He couldn’t refuse my request and leave, not with these people watching. It would get out that a Nation had run from a Cazador. Jamal was the president of his MC and wouldn’t make that statement. He nodded but didn’t take his eyes off me. I led the way to the little courtyard behind the church and we hopped through a gap in the wall. The space looked different during the day. Trash whirled in small circles in the corners and the summer heat had turned the grass brown. All the serenity it possessed in the evening light was gone.
“So, what do you want to talk about, Oscar?”
Jamal kept space between us, but I closed the gap quickly and said a silent prayer that he didn’t have a gun. Without warning, I put a hard fist into his stomach. It knocked him back. He gasped then stumbled, stopping on the stone archway. Getting back up on his feet, Jamal glared at me.
“What the fuck, man?” he shouted.
“Someone shot up a house on Mission, and your bikes were seen speeding away.” I pointed an accusing finger at him.
The cocky bastard smirked. “You think it was me?”
He sauntered toward me with his hand touching his jeans pocket. Jamal laughed again then lunged at me. His body collided with mine, and in the next instant, hot pain ripped through my forearm as his blade sliced into my skin before I fell. He knocked me to the ground, onto my back.
He shouted as I grabbed his hand that held the blade and yanked him off. Jamal rolled away from me and stood up holding his knife out.
“That was fucking stupid, my man,” Jamal said, panting as I leapt up.
His eyes narrowed and he gritted his teeth. He was full of rage, and he wanted to prove how much he hated the world, starting with me. I only wanted information, then I’d beat him for what he’d done to Mama.
Jamal chuckled as he paced to the left.
I waited. I had maneuvered him toward the wall and away from the gap. He was trapped in the courtyard, and all I had to do was wait for him to do something stupid.
“You shot my mother’s house,” I said, my eyes locked onto him.
“I don’t know where your mother lives, motherfucker.”
Jamal lunged again and I grabbed his outstretched arm, used his forward momentum to pull him into me, and drove my knee up into his ribs. I felt the crack as much as I heard it, and his knife hit the ground. Gasping, Jamal stumbled backward.
“Nice knife,” I said. “I learned how to avoid them in prison.” I leveled my eyes on him. “You shot at the Cazadores.”
Jamal looked to his left then to the right. His eyes widened when he realized he was blocked in. Desperate, Jamal lunged again. My fist hit him again and again as he struggled to land a blow. He couldn’t fight well without a knife. He swung frantically, wearing himself out. I let him back away. He had to confess if he wanted this to stop.
“I told you, Oscar,” he said panting, “I don’t know where your mama lives.”
He looked for his knife on the ground, but he couldn’t reach it. It rested behind my heel. His eyes widened when I picked it up.
“Don’t start, man,” he said, “I’m only here to recruit.”
I lashed out, cutting a deep arc across his arm. He cursed at me as he clutched his arm. He fell backward onto the little bench. My eyes blinked as I forced the image of Felicity on the bench out of my mind. I had to focus. Jamal had to confess to the shooting. Emilio was sure.
“Damn you, I told you I wasn’t at your mother’s house.”
A sick feeling rose up from my gut. I believed him. And having doubts now would get me killed. I knew Emilio would tell me I was a weak man for not defending the club and my family, but I was done with Jamal for today.
“It’s a warning,” I said.
Jamal glared at me. “You’ll pay. You won’t go to prison. I’ll send you straight to hell.”
A shout caught my attention as Felicity and the strung-out woman from the line ran toward us.
“Oscar,” Felicity hissed. “What have you done?”
She was right to blame me. His cut was worse than the scrape he’d given me. Jamal held his bloody arm as the woman knelt beside him. She was upset, but he pushed her away.
“My cousin’s hurt!” she shouted. “He’s bleeding to death!”
I looked away as the panic escalated. My eyes swept over Felicity in her perfect white dress. I couldn’t even touch her. My arm was bleeding, and my hands were bloody. Besides, I wouldn’t apologize to Felicity in front of Jamal. It would be a sign of weakness for a man to apologize to a woman for fighting.
“Felicity?” I said.
But she turned away from me and ran back into the church for help. The woman on the ground, her face twisted in rage, shouted obscenities at me.
“You tried to kill him.” She balled up her fist and hit my leg with all the strength she had. If I hadn’t seen her hit me, I wouldn’t have known. At that moment, I felt the low walls of the courtyard caging me in, and I tossed the knife on the ground. I ran and jumped, clearing the wall easily, landing hard and low on the pavement. My bloodied shirt declared what I’d done. I pulled it off my body and forced it deep down into a trashcan. Let the people see my ink. I displayed it without shame.
It was about 6 o’clock and the corner was busy with locals waiting for something to happen in their routine lives. I attracted the attention of two women waiting to cross the street. A tall, dark beauty watched me as she whispered to her friend. She smiled at me, her eyes full of implication, but I looked away. This time last night, I was with Felicity, and now, I was certain she would never speak to me again.
Chapter 17
Felicity
I ran back into the soup kitchen and told Armando there was a problem outside. I didn’t want to confront Oscar, so I ran away. I saw the bloody man on the ground, Oscar standing over him with a knife in his hand. His face twisted with anger as he threw the knife.
My stomach in knots, I tore down a busy street. I ran as fast as I could, as if I could run home, but my home was miles away. I just wanted to crawl into a hole and cry. Why did I fall in love with this man?
Gasping for breath, I had to stop and hold onto a metal fence for support as I wept. I didn’t care that an old woman watched me from across the street. I wanted her to go away.
I needed to sit down, so I wiped my face and se
t off to the deserted playground a short distance away. The chains hung down from poles, ending where the seats of swings should have been. Broken glass from beer bottles lay scattered on the blacktop, and graffiti spelled out foul words no child should’ve seen much less known.
Tears drenched my face and my shoulders shook. How could I have been so naive? At the party, Rhoda had asked me if I could tame the lion. I couldn’t, and if I didn’t harden my heart, the lion would devour me.
