Sanchia said a few words in Spanish, then bustled to the stove to dish up a plate of beans, just like I figured.
Angel stepped up. “Max,” he said solemnly, holding out a hand.
Max shook it. “You’ve grown up, Angel.”
Angel got a crate from the other room, then we all sat down. They said the prayer, Max joining in easily in Spanish like he said it every day of his life. Sanchia gave him a watery smile and put food on his plate.
Max didn’t look at me. I told myself it didn’t matter. It felt good, seeing Max here with his family, though his eyes were wary and his words—even in Spanish—sounded careful. I tried to eat, but my stomach was tied up in knots, wondering what would come next.
When the food was gone, Sanchia cleared the plates and went outside for water. Max pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket,tapped one out, and offered the pack to Oscar. Oscar took one, frowning and shaking his head when Roman leaned forward hopefully. Max lit his smoke. He didn’t hand it to me for a puff like he once would have. I guess I couldn’t blame him.
Oscar went to the cupboard, rummaging in the back and coming out with a bottle of clear liquid. He brought five cups, poured a splash in each, and passed them out. Angel took a drink and coughed. Roman took a long swallow. His eyes didn’t even water. I took a sip from my cup. The tequila burned down my throat and hit my churning stomach like a firecracker. Now what would happen? Only God knew, and he wasn’t talking to me.
“We need to get her out of here,” Oscar said bluntly in English, not looking at me. Angel and Roman watched.
Max’s elbow was on the table. He held his cigarette between two fingers, hovering close to his mouth. I remembered how his hand had felt on mine, my knuckles fitting into his palm. I told myself I didn’t want him to do that again.
“You’re right.”
Oscar’s brows went up. I guess he wasn’t used to Max agreeing with him.
“Where?” Oscar leaned forward, pushing a tin can ashtray across the table. “Not your place. And not hers. A hotel somewhere?”
They were talking about me like I wasn’t even sitting there, and I didn’t like it one bit.
“No.” Max tapped his ash into the can. “She needs to get out of California.” He looked everywhere—anywhere—but at me, and with his next words I figured why. “I have some cash,” he said. “Enough to get to Chicago, or Texas maybe. Start over.”
It was like a punch in the face. Leave California... and never see Max again? “But I—”
“Run?” Oscar said like I hadn’t even spoken. “From a crime she didn’t commit?”
“They’ll find her if she stays. You don’t know what these people are like.”
“You think I don’t?” Oscar’s voice rose. “You tell me she’s innocent, then you leave her here for me to deal with.”
“You know why I couldn’t come.” Max’s voice was tight. “This is her life we’re talking about, Oscar. Prison.” He jabbed his half-smoked cigarette into the can. “I can’t have that on my conscience.”
“And this is about your conscience, is it, Max?” Oscar poked a finger in my direction, but he wasn’t talking about me anymore. “Your conscience that is carrying enough already?”
Max’s jaw tightened and his hands curled into fists.
Oscar stood and leaned over the table, his accent thicker as his temper rose. “You just trying to save yourself. Get rid of her and go back to your easy life.”
Max jumped out of his chair and was around the table in a blink. “That’s what you think?”
“Is the truth, isn’t it?” Oscar’s chair scraped the floor and he was on his feet.
Max’s face was inches from Oscar’s. “Since when have you cared about the truth?”
They faced off, fists clenched at their sides. Max taller by three inches, Oscar heavier by at least twenty pounds. I stood and stumbled around the table. “Stop it, both of you. This isn’t helping.”
Angel put himself between them, his voice calm. “Mamá will kill you if you break her kitchen.”
Sanchia came in with a bucket, her eyes darting from one man to the other.
Oscar’s chest rose and fell. Max scowled, then pushed past me. “This was a bad idea, me coming here.” He gave me a look that said it was my fault, then slammed through the back door and into the night.
I couldn’t let him leave like this. I’d tried to do something good for him, but I’d made everything worse. I ran out into the dark behind him, not caring if anyone saw me. “Max, please.” My voice broke.
