I glanced at Julia, part thank you, part you didn’t have to do that. I guess Iz really had been bragging about me.
Ortiz nodded gravely. “I heard about the problem. Girls lured from everywhere with promises of a better life. So, Maddie Diaz. Did you find a solution?”
“I wish. Mainly it’s putting the information out there to warn the girls before they get sucked in.”
“What about getting them out?”
“That’s the problem. They’re so hard to find. By the time the cops get enough tips to search a place, they’ve been moved somewhere else.”
Since Ortiz looked interested in what I was saying, I kept going. I glanced at Julia, but she’d slipped away. It was girl code at its best: get the conversation going, then leave us to talk. She must’ve sensed that something could happen between us. Or was it just me?
Ortiz asked more questions. He had this sexy way of scrunching up his eyes when he was thinking, but it wasn’t put on. He was a very smart guy. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was in college, or if he planned on going. I was about to ask him when he pulled out his phone—a conversation killer if there ever was one.
“Sorry,” he said, cutting me off. “Gotta go.”
“Oh, okay.” Suddenly I felt vulnerable. But I mustered up a smile, hoping he’d ask for my number.
Ortiz got up. He said, “Later” to his friends, then he left.
I stared after him, sinking into the couch. All I could think was, Are you kidding me?
We hit up an all-night Denny’s for the party postmortem. Except for Carmen—she hailed a cab to drop her off at Rafael’s place.
“Ba-ba-booty call!”
Iz was the one who shouted it. But I was thinking it. I bet Abby was, too.
Carmen grinned and waved us off as she got into the cab. She’d go back to Iz’s later. Since Carmen’s parents were strict with curfews, she slept over there a lot. As for my mom, she was easy as long as she knew where I was and who I was with. I texted her to say I’d be home within an hour and that I’d share a cab with the girls.
Denny’s was full of Friday night partyers. The lights were too bright, and neither Iz’s nor Abby’s makeup had survived intact. I doubted mine had either.
“I’m talking chicken wings, cheese sticks, and calamari,” Iz declared. “Two appetizer platters?”
We were all over that. It went without saying that we’d order the greasiest food possible. It was necessary to soak up the alcohol.
“I’m not feeling this Rafael,” Abby said, licking honey garlic sauce off her fingers. “I don’t know why Carmen’s so into him. It’s too early in their relationship for a booty call.”
“Relationship and booty call don’t belong in the same sentence,” I said. “I hope she’s not expecting more.” I wasn’t at all sure Carmen was playing this right. But since she was hypersensitive, I knew better than to question her.
“Rafael is exactly what she needs,” Iz said. “She’s always falling for guys who don’t look twice at her. It’s about time she’s reminded that she’s a quality girl.” A grin took over her lips. “I bet he’s reminding her right now.” She savored her chicken wing a little too enthusiastically, and we all laughed.
Abby looked at me. “So tell me what happened with cute cashier guy.”
“His name’s Ortiz. Julia introduced us. Turns out he boxes with Eric.”
“I love a guy who goes by his last name,” Iz said. “That is so classic.”
“And?” Abby said. “Did you give him your number?”
“He didn’t ask. Actually, he left really fast. He looked at his phone and then he was gone.”
Iz nearly choked on her chicken wing. “No way. That is so rude!”
“It doesn’t mean he wasn’t into you,” Abby said. “It could’ve been an emergency.”
Iz scoffed. “Or it could’ve been his girlfriend.”
“Maybe he just wanted to avoid the I’ll call you thing,” I said. “I don’t know. But I’m not buying anything from Sasso’s for at least two weeks.”
“I’ve always thought he was full of himself,” Iz said. “Next time I go there, I’m pouring a Slush Puppie over his head.”
SHADOW
THAT NIGHT I DREAMED OF ORTIZ. I dreamed that I was watching him box, mesmerized by his ripped body and the sheer power of his punches. And then we drove off and found a cozy motel room.
That’s when I woke up—before things got really good.
I lay back in bed. Couldn’t I fantasize about someone who hadn’t rejected me in the last twenty-four hours?
I took a shower, my vanilla body wash stripping off the remains of last night. I stood in the stream of hot water, trying not to relive scenes from the dream. Trying to forget what it felt like to be wanted, no, needed, like that.
Although I hadn’t admitted it to the girls, I’d actually thought Ortiz was into me. Not burning for me, exactly, but interested. Who was I kidding? It was our topic of conversation he was interested in, not the rest of the package.
Which is probably why I was the editor of Prep Talk instead of the homecoming queen.
Cornflakes. After last night’s drinking and greasy eats, they were all I could handle. I turned on the E! channel to enjoy the latest celebrity hot mess, and sat down on the couch, trying to get comfortable. All of our furniture was old and too soft, especially the couch, which was lopsided—thanks to two hundred and fifty pounds of Boyd practically living on it for three years.
Dex curled up beside me. Since Mom was at work, we had the place to ourselves for a while. It was nice.
Mom was smothering me these days, and I didn’t like it. Weird. When Boyd had been in our lives, all I’d wanted was more of Mom’s attention. Now that I had it, I didn’t want it.
My phone rang. I had input all of my friends into my new phone, but I didn’t recognize this number.
I caught my breath. “Hello?”
“Hey, Maddie. It’s Julia.”
I was an idiot. Of course it wasn’t Ortiz. But this was also a surprise. “Hey.”
“Hope I’m not calling too early.”
“Not at all, I was awake.” I perked myself up. I wanted Julia to know that I was glad she was calling me. “How late did the party go last night?”
“I’m not sure. Eric and I crashed around three, but some people stayed longer. We’re done cleaning up and are going to Cosmo’s for breakfast. Or brunch, I guess. Wanna come?”
Julia and Eric wanted to hang with me? Wow. “I’d love to, but I can’t. I have to work at one.”
“No probs. Oh, and I wanted to see how things went with Ortiz. He’s cool, don’t you think?”
This was embarrassing. “Yeah, he is. But he got a text and took off really fast.”
“I kinda noticed that. Don’t take it personally. Eric says Ortiz is always bolting. Maybe he’s got ADHD.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Anyway, Eric’s about to chew his arm off here so I gotta go. But let’s do it another time, okay? I’ll call you.”
“Sounds awesome.”
I had to smile. Last night hadn’t been a total loss after all.
Someone was watching me. I could feel it.
I glanced over my shoulder, but saw nothing. From the moment I’d walked out of McDonald’s, I’d felt vulnerable.
It was 9:06 p.m. The bus was due in four minutes. I stood, waiting, in the midst of a group of harmless-looking people.
Abruptly I turned my head and saw a shadow hovering in the alley. Then it was gone. Had I imagined it?
So much for Manny’s offer to be my personal driver. He’d called in sick tonight. I needed him right now. I needed someone. Actually, the one I needed was Dex. I felt safe with him by my side, like nothing could touch me.
Three girls in their twenties were standing nearby, dressed for a night out—tight clothes, slicked-back hair, huge earrings, and oceans of perfume.
“You heard about Juan getting jumped last week?” one
girl said.
“Jumped? They rolled his ass bad. Took all his cash and supply. Musta had him staked out.” She cracked her gum. “It had to be the Destinos.”
The short one disagreed. “You believe that shit? There’s no such thing as the Destinos. It’s an urban myth. My mom said there was a gang just like them in the eighties.”
The girl scoffed. “The Reyes weren’t even around in the eighties. And they’re only fucking with Reyes. How do you explain that?”
Her friend was stumped.
The Destinos gang was the talk of the neighborhood. I didn’t care if they were a real gang or a couple of rogue thugs, I was just glad that they were brave enough (or stupid enough) to give the Reyes a hard time. Hopefully they were higher on the Reyes hit list than I was.
I’m a fucking guppy, I reminded myself. It was my mantra, thanks to Manny.
I spotted movement from the corner of my eye, and my heart rate spiked. A young guy was walking toward the bus stop—toward me. He was a bit older than me and dressed clean-cut, but who knew what his story was?
The guy’s eyes met mine. I was ready to run the second he made a move toward me.
I stood there, full of adrenaline. He looked me up and down, kind of smiled, and walked by. My heart was beating out of my chest.
My worst fears were confirmed. I was going crazy.
“I think I’m being followed,” I told the school psychologist on Monday morning.
There, I’d said it. I would never tell my mom, because she’d freak out. I couldn’t tell my friends, because they’d say I was being paranoid. And I couldn’t go to Detective Gutierrez, because I had no proof.
But I could say it to Jennifer. She’d made it clear that I could say anything. No judgment.
This was only my second visit with her, but I’d decided that she was trustworthy. Which didn’t mean I felt a connection with her. She was too clinical. She only had a handful of facial expressions, from the sensitive nod to the almost-smile to the compassionate brow furrow.
“Followed?” Her blue eyes opened a fraction wider, then she gave the sensitive nod. “Tell me more about that.”
“Ever since the incident I’ve felt like I was being watched. When I’m at the bus stop. Or walking somewhere with Dex.”
“Do you feel this way when you’re in a safe place, say at home or”—she subtly glanced down at her notes—“at your friend Iz’s house?”
I thought about it. “Not really. I mean, sometimes I worry that my house’ll be set on fire, but that’s just because a friend suggested it. I don’t think anyone’s looking through my window or anything. It’s mostly when I’m outside.”
“Have you spoken to Detective Gutierrez about this?”
I shook my head. “I don’t see what he can do.”
“But don’t you think he’d want to know?”
“Maybe but . . .” This was the strange part, the embarrassing part. “Whoever they are, I don’t think they’re out to get me.”
She raised an eyebrow. “That surprises me, in light of what you’ve been through.”
“I know it’s weird.” Weird didn’t begin to cover it. “Did you ever see that Oprah rerun with the ‘gift of fear’ stuff? My mom made me watch it. It’s all about how your instincts know when there’s a predator. Even if it’s not rational, that feeling is there. But I don’t feel any of that. Not like . . .”
She leaned forward in her chair. “Not like what?”
“The Reyes at the park. I knew right away that they were dangerous. That I had to get away from them.”
She glanced down at her notes. “I want to go back to something you said. You said, they’re not out to get you. Plural.”
She was sharp, all right. “Sometimes I think it’s more than one person. I mean, different people. Do I sound crazy?”
“Absolutely not,” she said emphatically. “The sense of being followed is very common when you’re experiencing post-traumatic stress.”
Okay, so I wasn’t crazy, I was just stressed. Post-traumatically stressed.
“So you don’t think . . . it could be real?”
She gazed back at me, her blue eyes intense. “What do you think?”
That was the problem. I didn’t trust my own judgment anymore. And I could tell she didn’t either.
THE RING
IT DIDN’T GET ANY BETTER THAN THIS. I sat on a bench, the salty beach air blowing on my face. It was seven o’clock at night, still light out, and I was eating a taco.
“Holy shit, this is good,” Julia said. “When you said you wanted tacos from a truck, I was doubting.” As she took another bite, half of her taco fell into the tray. I held back a smile. If she was going to survive in Miami, she’d better learn how to eat a taco.
“Food trucks are big here,” I said.
“Not in Flatbush, where I come from. If you’re buying street eats, you’d better be packing Pepto Bismol.”
I laughed, glad I wasn’t holed up at home tonight. I’d been expecting a boring night of school newspaper editing when Julia had called. No way I was going to pass up another invite. Besides, even if I’d have to stay up late working, tomorrow was Friday.
As we ate, I scanned my surroundings. Nothing unusual. Women in bikini tops and their bare-chested boyfriends rollerbladed by us. Tourists strolled, vendors hawked overpriced T-shirts. If the Reyes were planning to strike at me, they wouldn’t do it here on the bustling boardwalk with so many witnesses.
At least, I hoped not.
At the end of my last visit, the school psychologist had suggested I take some anti-anxiety meds. Weird, because I thought psychologists weren’t into that pharma shit.
No, thank you, I’d told her. I might be a little crazy these days, but the real crazy thing would be to dull my God-given senses.
“See someone you know?” Julia asked, picking up some taco entrails and popping them into her mouth.
Guess I wasn’t so subtle after all. “Um, no. Just people watching.”
“I know what it’s like, Maddie. Back in Brooklyn, I got on the wrong side of the Bloods.”
I gaped at her. “How’d that happen?”
“I heard Eric was going to get jumped, and I warned him. In the ghetto, that’s snitching. I’m sure you can relate.”
“Oh my God. The Bloods came after you?”
She nodded. “So I joined the Crips.”
“What?” I couldn’t picture smart, classy Julia as a gang member. No way.
“It’s true,” she said. “Anyway, that’s ancient history. Point is, I know how it feels to be on your guard all the time. After I got jumped the first time, I was never really the same.”
The first time? I didn’t even know what to say.
“My theory is that a little paranoia’s good for you. Keeps you alert.” She closed up the remains of her taco and tossed it in the trash. “I have an idea. Let’s go somewhere where you won’t have to look over your shoulder.”
“Sure. You lead the way.”
We got on a crowded bus heading downtown. Julia told me about U. of M., about how much she loved her classes. But she said it wasn’t always easy to meet people—the downside of living in an apartment off campus. The upside was that it was cheaper, she could cook her own food, and she and Eric could have as many sleepovers as they wanted.
It was so cool that Julia wanted to get to know me. I felt sort of bad that she didn’t have the same interest in Iz, but I had a sense of why. Iz was outrageous and a magnet for drama, which had probably put Julia off. She’d had enough drama in Brooklyn.
I almost felt like I was cheating on Iz, although I realized how ridiculous that was. I shouldn’t have to include her in everything. A little distance was healthy, especially since I was going away to college.
Julia pulled the cord to get off the bus and we stepped onto a busy block downtown. I spotted a weathered sign that said “The Ring,” and followed her through a heavy door.
The massive room looked like a converted
warehouse. There were two boxing rings on either side of the space and separate areas for sparring, punching bags, and weight training. The sounds of grunting and cheering echoed across the room.
I smiled. “Yeah, I’m safe here.”
“There’s Eric.” Julia pointed toward the weight training section. He was doing some bench presses, with a massive guy spotting him.
“Let’s not bug him until he’s finished a few sets,” Julia said. “He says I distract him.”
“I’m sure that’s a compliment.”
She actually blushed. “Hey, look who’s pummeling someone in the ring. That’s Ortiz in the red shorts.”
Ortiz. I couldn’t see his face because of the headgear, but I could see the tall, muscled body glistening with sweat. Too bad my girls were missing it.
“It’s okay to drool,” Julia said.
“I wasn’t drooling. I was admiring his shiny shorts.”
She smirked. “He might’ve run out on you like a jackass, but he was into you. That’s why I brought you over to him in the first place.”
“What made you think he was into me?”
“He told Eric he saw you at the store sometimes. Said you were hot.”
“He said that?”
“Absolutely.”
Wow.
Double wow.
“Then why didn’t he ask for my number?” I sighed. “Iz could be right. He could have a girlfriend. Or a string of them.”
“Maybe he’s a gigolo who answers booty calls for female executives.”
I smirked. But as I watched him beat down his opponent, my mouth went dry. “There’s not enough cash in the world to pay for a piece like that.” I winked at her, and we burst out laughing.
When Eric had finished his last set, we went up to him. He smiled when he saw his girlfriend. “Hey, Divine.” It was a play on her last name, DiVino. Eric wrapped his sweaty self around her, and she didn’t seem to mind one bit.
“Maddie, how’s it going?” he asked me once Julia had slipped out of his arms.
“Good. Just scoping the place out, seeing if it’s a good place to train.”
On the Edge Page 4
