AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“He?”
“A kid whose grandma owns the little shop next door.”
“He didn’t harass you, did he?”
“At first, but grandma whooped his ass for it. Was a total gentleman after that. Anyway, his grandmother made me some tamales and torta.” She adds a Spanish accent to the last word. “Was so good.”
“Look, we don’t know who’s connected down here yet. I learned the goat has little birds keeping an eye on things for him.”
“I know. But I doubt Sergio is one of them. He’s planning to go to college next fall. Has been saving up for years for it.”
“It seems you’ve learned quite a bit about your new friend. Still. Don’t get too friendly. And don’t give out your real name. If they find out you’re here, it’s game over.”
“Sure. Got it.” The brevity in her voice isn’t reassuring, at all, though. “So, when do I get to see you again? I’m bored and hot.”
“Did you go to the pool?”
“Yes. I went to the pool twice. I’ve worked out. I’ve showered. I’ve touched myself. I still miss you.”
“And I miss you. Give me a day, or two. Perhaps they’ll lose interest in me by then. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“I like the sound of that. I get to call the shots this time?”
“C’mon. You know better than that.” The thought of her pleading eyes staring up at me, asking that question, brings a deviant sort of smile to my face.
“Okay, I guess. Sweet dreams, Father Damon. And remember, masturbation is not a sin.”
“I’ll remember that. Goodnight.”
Clicking off the phone, I stare up at the ceiling, and it’s then that a thought pops in my head. Call it old habits, but on one gimp leg, I search the ceiling, the floor, the lamp, the bed, the closet and the bathroom, for any sign my room has been bugged. In my short and cursory hunt for anything unusual, I find nothing.
Movement out of the corner of my eye draws my attention toward the wide nightstand beside my bed—one I thought oddly monstrous for such a small and simple room. Tipping my head, I take careful steps toward a whitish-looking object that’s half crawled out from beneath the nightstand, pale against the dark gray carpeting. It scampers backward, and before it can attack, or escape, I nab one of my shoes from beneath the bed and crush it, grinding its crunchy carapace into the carpet.
Scorpion.
I open the cupboard of the nightstand to make sure there aren’t any others, and the air catches in my lungs. My stomach turns over on itself.
What in God’s name?
31
Ivy
Freshly showered, I head out to the balcony, fluffing wet hair with my fingers, and swipe my pack of smokes from the table. I’ve done more smoking in the last forty-eight hours than I have in the last month. If this Mexican druglord doesn’t find and kill me first, the cigarettes surely will.
As I plop down on the cheap plastic chair out here, I glance downward to find Sergio setting out fruit in baskets. The moment he catches sight of me, he smiles and deposits the rest of the fruit, before plopping down on the curb to light up.
“Please let your grandmother know Ilurvedher tamales,” I say, resting my elbows on my thighs. “Best I’ve ever had.”
“I will.” He stuffs his smoke into his mouth and rolls his sleeves up, exposing a tattoo inked across his forearm.
“What’s that?” I nod toward the dates beneath something in Spanish.
“Quisieron enterrarnos, pero no sabían que éramos semillas.” The way he stares down at it, gently running his thumb over the ink tells me it holds somber meaning to him. “They tried to bury us, but they didn’t know we were seeds. The date is my brother’s birth and death.”
“The one you spoke of yesterday?”
Staring off, he nods and draws another hit of his smoke. “Was killed in a drive-by shooting down in Mexicali. At a buddy’s house. I was supposed to go with him that night. He planned to introduce me to somecholohe rolled with at the time. Said he could help me make fast cash for school.” With his cigarette dangling from his fingertips, he picks at his thumbnail. “Stupidculerogot himself killed.”
