“French chefs are hard-core,” Abby said.
“The worst part is that Eric doesn’t even mind staying late. He loves that shit. He’s a total perfectionist in the kitchen.”
“What about in the bedroom?” I asked, arching a brow.
“He’s obviously fantastic—he’s my cousin!” Iz said. “That kinda thing is in the blood. Now the question is, he can sear a scallop, but can he cook a clam?”
We all groaned. The Birthday Raunchiness was under way.
One drink and several dirty jokes later, we danced. The floor was already overflowing with underage people like us who’d flooded in before the doormen came.
Julia was an awesome dancer. Her moves were natural, sensual, and Brooklyn smooth. Iz danced like a little powerhouse, arms and legs in the mix. As for Abby, she did her trademark moves—the head-groove, the “wave your hands in the air like you just don’t care,” and some lasso throwing. She was a tall, blond beacon, and always got surrounded by short, South American admirers.
At some point, Carmen showed up and joined our circle. Iz checked her watch and glared at her. Carmen brushed it off. She danced all sexy, putting on a show for Rafael. He’d stationed himself at the bar, watching her. It was almost creepy.
Surrounded by my good-looking friends, I didn’t expect to have an admirer of my own, but I did. My eyes locked with those of a cute guy and my shy smile gave him permission to come closer. I hadn’t thought I was looking for any attention, but I liked it. Soon we were smiling and dancing together. Why not?
But in the back of my mind, I kept thinking of how shallow it was to dance with some random guy when the one I really wanted was out there somewhere. Where was Lobo tonight? Was he thinking about me too?
Lobo’s not coming back, I reminded myself. He’d been all too clear about that. I should move on. It was, after all, my birthday.
Then I remembered something Lobo had said—that if I ever saw him again, I wouldn’t know him. What if this guy I was dancing with was Lobo?
“I’m Maddie,” I said into his ear.
“CJ.”
“I love this place,” I said, unable to think of anything else.
“Yeah.” So he wasn’t a conversationalist. It didn’t matter. Iz always said there was nothing worse than a talky guy. It was one of her many complaints about Rob.
But one thing was sure—this wasn’t Lobo. I couldn’t picture Lobo coming up to me drunk like this guy. CJ wasn’t stumbling yet, but there was a vagueness in his eyes that told me he was getting there.
“Hey, happy birthday,” Eric said, giving me a friendly, but not overly huggy, hug.
“You made it,” I said.
“Course I made it. Iz and Julia would’ve gone medieval on me if I hadn’t.”
CJ hung back as I talked to Eric. He seemed a bit jealous, which was flattering, I guess. But when Eric went over and started dancing with Julia, CJ seemed happy to forget about the interruption.
A Rihanna ballad came on, and the dance floor dissolved into couples. Abby even accepted one of her admirers’ requests for a dance. Rob hooked up with Iz, and Rafael grabbed Carmen against him and proceeded to give her a slow, long kiss.
CJ molded his body against mine and went in for a kiss. I ducked my head away, and he ended up planting a kiss in my ear. It felt like a wet willy. I took it as a sign that I was officially done with him. Time for a strategic bathroom exit. “Sorry, CJ, but I have to go to the—”
“Happy birthday, Maddie,” someone said. Despite the loud music, I knew immediately who it was.
Ortiz got between us, his eyes focused squarely on CJ. “Can I take over? Thanks, bro.”
CJ’s lips tightened. In a quick second, he assessed Ortiz, then made a smart decision—he backed off. “Go for it,” he said, walking away.
Ortiz slid his arms around my waist as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Once you put on the ick face, I thought I’d get rid of him for you.”
Some small part of me melted. But another part of me was annoyed. Didn’t he think I could stand up for myself?
“You didn’t need to do that. I was about to cut him loose. I’m just glad he didn’t take a swing at you. He was pretty drunk.”
“Well, if he comes up behind me with a broken beer bottle, let me know. Anyway, that guy isn’t drunk. He’s on psychedelics. His whole crew is.” He nudged his chin toward CJ and the two guys he’d joined at the bar. “You can’t tell the difference?”
“Ah, no. Never done them myself.”
“Me neither, in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t.”
His eyes narrowed and he almost smiled.
My breath hitched. Ortiz could rattle me so easily, and he knew it. Maybe that was why he’d intervened with CJ—because he thought I was a spaz when it came to guys. And wait a minute—what was Ortiz doing here anyway?
“I meant it,” he said.
“What?”
“Happy Birthday.” He gave me a knowing look. “You made it this far, huh?”
“That’s how I’m looking at it.”
Although I hadn’t drunk much tonight, I suddenly felt tipsy. I caught the scent of aftershave. Subtle, manly. He didn’t have to rely on massive amounts of deodorant spray or slick clothes from the pages of GQ to get a girl’s attention. He’d look good in a paper sack . . . or nothing at all.
Okay, so Iz was right. I was horny as hell.
“What are you smiling about?” he asked, a ghost of a smile on his lips.
“I was thinking of a dirty joke Iz told me. I’d tell you, but it’s not for virgin ears.”
His smile broadened. “I’m all ears now.”
I loved our banter. Didn’t want it to end. But the song was fading out, and the electronic beat of a fast song was rising behind it. Maybe if I could get him over to the bar, we could chat a bit more before rejoining the group.
“Can I buy you a drink?” I asked, feeling bold.
“I can’t stay.”
Great. Why had I even said that?
“But let me buy you a drink before I go,” he offered.
“No, thanks. I’m pacing myself.” I tried not to show what I was feeling. I couldn’t believe he’d just gotten here and was blowing me off again. “Early shift in the morning?”
“Yeah, then a boxing match right after.”
So he was being sensible. But I wasn’t in the mood for sensible right now. Sensible sucked. This was my birthday, wasn’t it?
I forced a smile. “I’m sure you’ll kick ass tomorrow.” Then I gave him a thanks for coming hug.
I knew immediately that it was a mistake—the friendly hug thing didn’t work when you were attracted to someone. I felt his hands pressing into the small of my back, my breasts flattening against his chest. We held each other a little too long, then we both pulled away at the same time.
“Night, Maddie,” he said, maybe with regret on his face. “See you around.”
FEARLESS
“THAT WAS SO HOT WHEN ORTIZ TORE YOU AWAY from that guy,” Iz said an hour later. We were at an all-night greasy spoon for our after-club eats. “I’m surprised he didn’t whup the guy’s ass in a jealous rage.”
“I didn’t see any signs of jealous rage,” I said. “Ortiz is the ice-cold type.”
“That’s just what he lets you see,” Abby pointed out. “I thought the whole thing was pretty romantic.”
“He didn’t want to see me with someone messed up on psychedelics,” I said. “That falls under the category of civic duty. Maybe he saw the guy tongue-kiss my ear.”
They both made ew faces.
“I hear psychedelics are the sickest trip,” Iz said. “They make you hallucinate, you know. He might’ve thought your ear was an ice cream cone.”
Abby and I burst out laughing just as the waitress brought up our plates. We’d all gotten the restaurant’s trademark dish—fries topped with gravy, bacon, and a fried egg. Total grease heaven.
After a cou
ple of minutes of straight eating, Iz came up for air. “Next time you run into Ortiz, you’re gonna end up making out with him. Gua. Ran. Teed.” She fanned herself and downed some ice water. “Damn it, where’s Rob when I need him?”
“You sent him home,” Abby said.
“Yeah, well, he doesn’t do girl talk. Not that Rafael is any better. He’s never said two words to me.” Iz glanced meaningfully at the empty seat beside Abby.
“Go easy on her,” I warned. “Carmen’s so into him that she doesn’t care what we think anymore. If you go after her too hard, she could write us off completely.”
“Write us off after how many years of friendship? She wouldn’t be that stupid.” But I could tell Iz wasn’t so sure.
We turned back to our food. The combo of drinking and dancing always made us ravenous.
“Oh my God.” Abby’s face went pale. “Do not look.”
“What is it?” I asked, my stomach twisting.
“There’s some Reyes here from Rivera. Maddie, if they see you . . .”
I spotted them immediately. One guy and three girls. I tried to remember what Abby had said about the Reyes at her school. They were part of a sub-gang called the Primas. Most of them joined because their older siblings were Reyes, a sign of solidarity.
The waitress was leading them this way.
One of the girls’ eyes zeroed in on me. She put an arm out to stop the others. They all looked toward me, eyes widening. They whispered among themselves, then turned and bolted out of the restaurant.
Iz said, “Let’s get the fuck out of here before they come back.”
Abby was on her feet immediately. “You think they’re going to get their friends?”
“I’m not risking it.” Iz riffled through her purse and threw some cash on the table. “This’ll cover us. Let’s go.” Iz gave my arm a tug. “Andele, baby.”
I wanted to tell them there was no need to go—that I was sure the Reyes weren’t coming back. But Iz and Abby hustled me out of there. We ran several blocks in our heels and didn’t look back.
As I ran, a feeling of elation swept through me. I knew why the Reyes had run off, and it wasn’t to get backup.
They were scared. I’d seen it on their faces.
Lobo had been right, I realized. The Reyes weren’t going to come after me.
But why were they so afraid?
“She’s impossible to buy for,” I told Julia the following Wednesday as we left another store.
The mall was alive with people—housewives, homies, tourists. Every store window was plastered with the promise of great sales, but I couldn’t find anything that screamed Iz’s name, or even whispered it. And her birthday party was two days away.
“Ah, c’mon. Everybody wants something.” Julia had a chill vibe, as always. She sipped her new favorite drink, a mocha latte blanco. I’d introduced her to it.
“That’s the thing. Iz has everything she wants. And if she can’t afford to buy it, she freaking makes it herself with a stick, a ribbon, and a can of paint.”
Julia smirked, but I was dead serious.
We scanned the stores. I should’ve gotten my act together sooner, of course, but I’d been distracted—more like obsessed—with last Friday night’s surreal incident. Seeing a group of Reyes run from a possible confrontation was a first. I knew that Lobo must be behind it. But how had he managed to keep them away from me? What could he have possibly done to scare them off?
My mind spun with questions. No answers came. Just the echo of Lobo’s voice reassuring me: It doesn’t matter, Madeleina. You’re safe now.
“Maddie?”
“Sorry, what?”
“What about a gift card to the craft store?”
“It’s a good idea, but . . .”
“But what?”
“I just feel I should do something special, like she did for me. But I’m not crafty at all.”
“I’m pretty sure she knows that by now,” Julia said, obviously amused by the whole thing. “You’re all riled up about this gift, aren’t you?”
“I guess. I want to pay her back for wading through the shit with me, you know?”
She slanted me a look. “No gift can pay her back for that. You can only pay her back by standing by her. By being a real friend.”
I cracked a smile. “You’d be great at writing greeting cards.”
“True, that.” Julia sighed. “Let’s keep looking, then. We still have an hour till the mall closes. But I’ll need another latte.”
Time always flew by with Julia. There were endless things to talk about. She put a cool spin on even the most mundane topics.
My phone vibrated. A text from Iz.
Where are you?
I texted back,
Picking up your gift.
I figured it was a good choice of words, because it sounded like I was picking up something specific, not cruising the mall cluelessly two days before her party.
Don’t bother buying me a gift. Just go wild with me Friday night. P.S. If you’ve already bought it, I can’t wait to see it!
That’s all I needed. More pressure.
“So you know I’m gonna bring up your birthday,” Julia said as we were browsing an art supply store. “And you know why.”
“Mr. Hot and Cold, I presume.”
“Bingo.”
I glanced at her, trying to gauge what she knew. “Why did he show up for all of ten minutes?”
“That’s what I wanted to ask you. He met up with Eric after work. Told him he just wanted to drop in to say hi to you. It looked like you were getting pretty cozy on the dance floor.”
“Not really. He just cut in to save me from a guy on psychedelics.”
“The act of a modern Prince Charming.” She sobered. “I hear psychedelics are the shit now. Some cartel brought them in to put the local kingpin out of business.”
I expected to hear this stuff from Manny, not Julia. “You’re in the know.”
“I make it my business to be. There’s no point in being innocent, Maddie. It’s the best way to get caught in the crossfire.”
“Sounds like a little Brooklyn PTSD.”
She shrugged. “Not a little.”
THE WHY
IN THE END, I GOT IZ A JEWELRY BOX from a Trinidadian street vendor. It wasn’t your typical jewelry box—it was handpainted in bright colors and adorned with beads and feathers. The best part was that when you opened it, reggae music came out.
It was a relief, because I had a ton of newspaper stuff to finish. There was no way I’d admit that I was struggling to keep up. No way I’d show the weakness Ms. Halsall was expecting.
Thursday at lunch, I holed up in the library, choosing a study carrel in a faraway, quiet corner. I’d already spent twenty minutes going over Cassidy’s article about the school’s recycling program, and I was beyond bored.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed someone heading my way. I did a double take. “Who the hell let you in here?”
“You had me at hell.” Manny gave a crooked grin. “So much for a secure school, huh? All I had to do was flash some prison tats and they escorted me right in, red carpet all the way.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Half kidding. I know Gush, one of the guards. We went to school together. He told me you were back here.”
“Gush?” I’d thought I knew the names of the security guards, but I couldn’t place him.
“He goes by Jenkins now, but to me he’ll always be Gush. See, he used to pee his pants in grade school. Doesn’t like being reminded, either.”
Manny grabbed a chair from a nearby study carrel, sat down backward, and scanned the area.
“I didn’t stop by just to look at your pretty face, Diaz.” The usual Manny grin faded. “People are talking about you.”
“That’s nothing new.”
“But they’re saying strange things. Things that can’t be true.”
“Spill it, Manny.”
“The rumor is
that you have some connection to the cartel.”
“The what?” I said, far too loud, then caught myself. “How could anyone think that?”
“I guess you don’t know what happened to the guys who jumped you.”
A wave of apprehension rolled over me. “Then fill me in.”
“The three Reyes who jumped you were kidnapped and their middle fingers were cut off.”
I felt like I’d been sucker punched. “What?”
“It’s the mark of death of El Chueco’s cartel,” Manny said, almost apologetically. “See, once the fingers are cut, it means the next time someone in the cartel sees you, you’re dead. Deal’s done. So the guys who attacked you had to leave Miami fast. They had to go where they’d never risk running into a member of the cartel.”
My stomach felt queasy. Lobo must be responsible for this. Had he cut the fingers off himself, or had one of his guys done it? It was so brutal. And yet, other than killing them, this must’ve been the only way to keep them from coming after me again.
I remembered the fear on the faces of the Reyes at the greasy spoon last Friday night. Now I knew why. They thought I was linked to the cartel.
Another thought hit me like a freight train. What if the Destinos had cut the guys’ fingers off for a completely different reason?
What if they were the cartel?
Or at least, working with them.
It made sense. Perfect, horrible sense. The Destinos’ reason for being was to screw with Salazar and the Reyes, wasn’t it?
Manny studied my face, waiting for me to say something.
“This explains a lot,” I said. “I ran into some Reyes last weekend and they seemed scared, like they really didn’t want a confrontation.”
“I wouldn’t either if I thought you were linked to the cartel.”
“This is unbelievable.”
“I know. You don’t even look Mexican.”
But neither of us was laughing.
BOMBSHELL
ME AND SOME FRIENDS GOT TO SCHOOL EARLY for our birthday duties. We taped little red lipsticks to Iz’s locker and wrote cute notes all over it. Then I slipped ten bucks to Candace Johnson, who did the morning announcements. Instead of the boring “Happy Birthday to Iz Moreno” crap, she promised to say, “Happy Birthday to the outrageous, outspoken, and never outdone Iz Moreno.”
On the Edge Page 9
