I didn’t understand. “What kind of deal?”
“Maybe he wanted out of the gang, and taking the fall for someone else was his way to do it. He spent a year in juvie, then two in adult prison. That’s a short sentence for his crime.”
I steeled myself. “Okay, tell me. What was it?”
“Manslaughter. There was a bar fight. Manny and a bunch of Reyes were there. A guy’s head got kicked in and he died.”
I felt sick to my stomach. “Manny didn’t kill him.” I knew it for sure. He would never do something like that. “Poor Manny. Locked up for three years for something he didn’t do.”
Ortiz gave a grunt. “Trust me, Manny Soto was no choirboy. And the Reyes would’ve protected him in prison. That’s more than you can say for most guys. When he got out, he could walk away from the gang, start a new life. I’ve never heard of anybody getting a second chance like that. You think it’s a tragedy? I’d call it a fairy tale.”
He was right. Manny was one of the lucky ones.
We were quiet for a while. Eventually he said, “You were really helpful to us the other night. But I promise you’ll never be in a situation like that again. I don’t want you involved.”
“I told you, I was happy to help. And I have to admit, it was . . . exhilarating.” I hesitated, but realized this was my chance to bring it up. “I had a talk with Kelsey while you were gone. She’s worried about the Destinos. She doesn’t think you guys can keep doing this much longer.”
“I know. She has a one-way bus ticket home but she refuses to use it.”
“No one agrees with her that it’s getting too dangerous?”
“It was always dangerous. Always will be. We have to change our methods constantly to stay ahead of Salazar. But we’re not done. Nowhere near it.”
“So you’re going to keep on until . . .”
“Until we shut down his operation.”
“And how would you do that?”
“We have to kill Salazar, or have him locked up. He runs the whole business himself, has a finger on every button. Doesn’t trust anyone. But he’s been underground for months, mostly because of the cartel. El Chueco’s got a price on his head.”
“Hopefully El Chueco will take care of him for you.” I couldn’t believe we were talking about killing someone. Then again, it was someone responsible for destroying so many lives.
“We can’t stand by waiting for El Chueco to get rid of him for us. Too many girls need our help now.”
If Kelsey had hoped I’d talk him down, I was doing a miserable job of it. The problem was that I didn’t know what I wanted him to do. I mean, I wanted him to be safe. But I also wanted him to help the girls.
All I could say was the truth. “I want to be with you. Even if I can’t help at all . . . just promise me you’ll never shut me out.”
“I promise.” He opened his hand, revealing a small note. “It’s information. In case something happens to me. Hopefully you’ll never have to open it.”
Before I could protest, he put up a hand. “I’m not being morbid, all right? Just take this. Keep it somewhere very, very safe.”
“What is it?”
“Details of a safety deposit box. And X’s phone number. If you ever need help, go to him.”
“Why X?”
“If shit goes down, he’s the most likely to stay alive.”
My stomach clenched. “You’re scaring me.”
“Come on, Madeleina. You’re not easily scared. Not anymore. This is reality. If something happens to me, do something good with the money. Give it to a place that—” he broke off, thinking about it, “that helps people start over.”
“What about you starting over?”
“That’s what I’m hoping for, once Salazar is done. I want a new life. With you.”
“I want that too,” I said, slipping into his embrace. More than you can imagine.
KNOWING
THE NEXT MORNING, I CAME DOWN TO EGGS Benny and tomato salad. Mom hugged me and we sat down to eat. Even though I was grounded, she was being really nice. Maybe because, unlike in the Boyd days, I wasn’t giving attitude. That must’ve thrown her off.
After a few bites, Mom cleared her throat. “I talked to Carrington yesterday. He says the divorce should be final next week.”
My fork clattered against my plate. “Boyd’s going to sign the papers?”
“He’s run out of excuses not to. I doubt he’ll risk another fine for skipping court. The judge won’t put up with it.”
“Better not. It’s almost over, Mom. Can you believe it?”
“It’s been a long time. Almost as long as the years he lived here.” She gave me an apologetic look I knew well. Although she’d never said the words, I could feel how sorry she was.
I took a bite of eggs. “So good.”
“We could have Ortiz over for brunch sometime.”
“Really?”
She nodded.
“He wants to apologize to you personally for Wednesday night. But I told him he didn’t need to.”
“He wants to talk to me?” Mom nodded approvingly. “That’s mature of him.”
I smiled. “He’s the best, Mom. You’ll see.”
At noon, I arrived at McDonald’s for my shift. Manny gave me his trademark crooked smile. It didn’t exactly put me at ease, but it helped. I reminded myself that he wasn’t aware I knew his secret. All he knew was that he’d caught me making out with a guy.
Deep down, I’d known that Manny could have been involved with the Reyes. He had always seemed to know so much about their operation. And he’d said himself that he had plenty of things to atone for. But the Manny I knew was a good person.
“Break time?” I asked him around three, when the lunch rush ended.
He nodded. “Me, too.”
In the staff room, he sat down with a Big Mac combo, while I grabbed a protein bar and water bottle from my knapsack. The guy was like a garbage disposal—he could shove it all in there, but you could never tell where it went on his lanky frame.
“Hope you’re not pissed at me, Diaz,” he said after a long sip of his drink. “I felt like an asshat walking in on you guys like that.”
That was one thing about Manny—he never beat around the bush.
I felt my cheeks heat up. “Forget about it.”
“So he’s your boyfriend, huh?” He put a fist to his chest. “My heart’s bleeding. Bleeding like . . . a pig?”
“You ooze poetry.” But it was a relief that he was making light of it.
“So who’s Mr. Right Now, anyway?”
“Ortiz. He works at Sasso’s.”
“I knew I’d seen that kid around. He treats you good?”
“Yeah, why? Will you put a cap in his ass if he doesn’t?”
He laughed. “Nah, I don’t roll like that. I’d do like my Irish grandma’s people do. I’d smash his kneecaps so he’s gimping around.”
I tried to smile, but I had to wonder if Manny had hurt people in the past. It was hard to believe that he could inflict anything but annoyance or amusement.
Manny watched me closely. “Don’t go all awkward on me now, Diaz. We’re friends, right?”
“Right.”
“Good.” He shoveled in some fries. “I’m cool with that until you come to your senses.”
The following week, I put the final touches on my letter to the editor. I polished it until it was as close to perfection as I could make it, and then sent it to the Miami Herald.
It was the last week of May. I was as busy as ever, finishing my last term paper and getting ready for exams. The grad issue of the newspaper was almost done, and Ms. Halsall said it was the best she’d seen in years. In other words, she was sorry she’d doubted me.
But no amount of work could stop me from worrying about Ortiz. I hardly slept, and when I did, I had nightmares. It was always some version of the same—he was hurt and I couldn’t get to him. Or lost, and I couldn’t find him.
One night I woke
at three a.m., gripped by panic. Where was Ortiz right now? Was he okay? I grabbed my phone to text him, but then I stopped myself; he wasn’t working a graveyard shift tonight at Sasso’s, so my text would probably wake him.
I lay back down, taking a slow, deep breath, wishing I could shake Kelsey’s words from my head: This is a suicide mission.
Even if she was right, there was nothing I could do about it. I couldn’t talk Ortiz out of being a Destino. He knew the risks. He wouldn’t have given me that note if he wasn’t aware of how dangerous his situation was.
The note. It was tucked inside my mattress cover at the foot of my bed. He’d said to look at it only in case something happened to him. But what if there was information in there I needed to know and I couldn’t get home fast enough?
I slipped out of bed and fumbled under the mattress cover. Ortiz might not want me doing this, but he didn’t have to know. At the very least, I could put X’s number into my phone under a fake name. That wouldn’t put him at risk, and seemed like a smart precaution.
I opened the note, and nearly choked when I read the first line.
Dear Madeleina,
If you’re reading this, I’m probably dead.
I don’t regret forming the Destinos or the things we’ve done. I only regret leaving you.
X’s number is 555-2813. He doesn’t have a fixed address. If he has to go dark quickly, he could be hard to find. Take the scroll of artwork from my wall and show it to some street kids in Miami Gardens. Someone will know how to contact him.
There is a safety deposit box in my name at Bank of America. Account number 0632004222. I’ve put you and X on the account. There’s at least a hundred grand in there, blood money from the Reyes. Please give it to charity.
If I haven’t told you yet, then I’ll say it now, just so you never doubt it. I love you and always will.
Ortiz
I stared at the note, frozen in time.
He loved me.
Friday night, Iz invited the girls over to celebrate that I was no longer grounded. Like old times, Iz handed me a drink the second I stepped in the door. It was big, blue, and icy.
“What’s this?” I took a sip, bracing for it to be strong. It was.
“I’m calling them Frothy Freedoms in honor of your escape from maternal tyranny.”
“Yum.” I handed her the birthday gift. “This is for you.” I hadn’t wanted to present it at school. “Better late than never, huh?”
Iz looked at me apologetically, then nodded. “Damn right.” She immediately unwrapped the jewelry box, and snapped a picture of us holding it.
Carmen swung her bare legs off the sectional so I could sit down. We said an awkward hello. Since Iz and I were cool now, Carmen and I were too, supposedly. We both knew she’d taken Iz’s side, but it was better left alone. Carmen and I hadn’t connected for a while now anyway.
“So tell me about Corner Store Guy,” Carmen said. “I’m dying for the deets.”
“You should post pics of you guys,” Iz said. “You make a gorgeous couple.”
“What does he do besides work at Sasso’s?” Carmen asked. “Does he go to school?”
“Nope, but he wants to be a cop someday.”
“Every guy has a cop phase,” Carmen said dismissively. “It’s hard to get into, you know. They want more than a high school diploma.”
“Who the fuck cares what he does?” Iz said. “He could be a GQ model, for God’s sake.”
Thankfully, Abby took the talk in another direction: celebrity gossip. Then we turned on Fashion Police and judged the good, bad, and ugly of the latest styles.
It was surreal, sitting around with the girls. So familiar, and yet so different. I’d made the decision to forgive Iz, but I wouldn’t ever forget how she’d turned on me. I’d always have to be careful with her, and be prepared for whatever drama she might throw my way.
As for Carmen, I just didn’t know anymore.
Rafael planned to pick her up around eleven. She told Iz that she’d be back later to sleep over, and Iz didn’t protest. I had the feeling that Iz’s conflict with me had made her put aside her annoyance with Carmen.
“Could Rafael drop me off too?” Abby wanted to know.
Carmen shrugged. “I’ll ask him.”
I was staying over tonight. Iz really wanted me to, and even though I preferred my own bed, I’d agreed.
Carmen hovered by the window. The second Rafael arrived, she and Abby went out to the car.
“Rafael never comes to the door,” Iz said once they’d left. “He’s too lazy.”
“Is he that bad?”
“I don’t know. We’ve hardly spoken.”
We watched more TV and ate some delicious, if sloppy, leftovers from her mom and stepdad’s food truck.
“Hope I’m not keeping you from Ortiz,” Iz said, sounding insecure.
“Of course not. He’s working tonight anyway.”
“Hey. I’ve been wanting to ask you. Did you ever see Lobo again?”
The burrito caught in my throat, and I calmly took a sip of my drink. I’d almost forgotten that I’d told her about Lobo while I was in the hospital.
“Nah. And I don’t think Ortiz would appreciate another guy on the scene.”
“What if Ortiz is Lobo?”
Something inside me stilled, but I shoved in some food. “Huh?” I said, garbling the word. “Where’d that come from?”
“Think about it. You said that Lobo had this sexiness about him, right? And then Ortiz asks you out right after the attack.”
“Lobo had a totally different vibe from Ortiz. Plus he was shorter and stockier. There’s no way.” I took another drink. “Kudos for trying.”
She sighed and sank back into the easy chair. “Damn. I thought that would be so cool, you know. The Destinos are such badasses. I heard last week that they burst into the house of some Reyes and robbed them blind. Left the Reyes a bloody mess. Bet you love hearing that, huh?”
“Sure do.” She must be talking about last Wednesday night. The Reyes would have leaked those details so that the neighborhood would feel the Destinos had gone too far. Of course, there was no mention of the real reason the Destinos had busted into that house.
I glanced at Iz, a sinking feeling inside me. Had she told anyone about Lobo helping me? Or that she’d suspected Ortiz could be Lobo?
Of course not. Iz knew that to even imply that Ortiz was Lobo would put him in danger. And she wouldn’t be that stupid. At least, I hoped not.
THE PROMISE
SATURDAY NIGHT I TOOK A CAB TO ORTIZ’S PLACE, where he met me on the sidewalk. His arms went around me and my heart filled up.
I remembered something Mom had once told me—that there was a difference between being in love with someone and loving someone. Being in love was that wild, exhilarating feeling of needing to be with them every moment. Loving someone was a pledge to care about them forever. To make their happiness as important as your own.
I was in love with Ortiz. And I loved him.
Wordlessly, we went up to his apartment. He double-locked the door behind us and we sat down on the futon, glued to each other.
“I’m always worried about you. It’s tearing me up.” His note haunted me, but I couldn’t tell him I’d read it.
He brushed a lock of hair from my eyes. “I wish I could take that away from you.”
It wasn’t the answer I’d hoped for. I wanted him to tell me that he was going to be fine. But he was too damned honest to give me false promises. He knew what he was up against. The note had said it all.
“I keep thinking of what Kelsey said. That the Destinos can’t last. That you’re not safe.”
“Stop thinking about it, then.”
“I wish it were that easy. I have a lot of things not to think about. What should I think about, then?”
He took my face in his hands. “This.” And he kissed me.
Kissed me senseless. Kissed me like he would never, ever stop.
This is the drug, I thought. The drug I’d happily OD on for the rest of my life. The drug I’d do anything for. Who needed psychedelics when this feeling existed?
After a while, we forced ourselves apart. He got us bottles of water from the fridge, and I was tempted to splash the cold water over both of us, but I knew a water fight would only result in more making out.
“I read your latest article,” he said, leaning back into the futon. “The one about what to expect at college. It was really good.”
“You read it?”
“Sure. I’ve read most of your stuff.”
That was a surprise. I knew Prep Talk was archived on the school’s website, but I couldn’t believe he’d actually read my articles.
“You have some cool things ahead in the fall. That’s what you should be thinking about.”
“Next year was a lot more appealing before I met you. Will you come and see me?”
He took a drink of his water. “I’ll try.”
Something inside me crumbled. I’ll try wasn’t a promise. It wasn’t anything.
“It’s hard for me to get away,” he said. “But in a few months, things could be different. Salazar could be out of the picture.”
That gave me some hope. “You think so?”
“I’m gonna do everything in my power to shut him down. If I succeed, I’ll go wherever you are. And in the meantime, there won’t be anyone else for me. I’m playing the long game here, Madeleina.”
“Me, too.”
We kissed, sealing the promise.
He held me for a long time. I felt so perfectly happy in his arms. Maybe if I didn’t move, we could always stay like this. And I could keep all of my fears at bay.
But eventually, he stirred. “Are you hungry? Thought we’d head out for dinner.”
“You want to wine and dine me?”
“Dine you, at least,” he said with a smile. “Can’t order wine where I’m taking you. They’d probably check ID.”
“How old are you, anyway?”
“Nineteen and three quarters.”
I laughed. Then the buzzer went off, startling us both.
Ortiz went over to press the intercom. “Yeah?”
“It’s X.”
On the Edge Page 15
