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There’s a moment where they all talk at once, and even though I heard the whole thing, it’s almost impossible to follow, but Diego does.
I know, because he holds up his hand for quiet, runs the other over his clipped beard, and he exhales loudly. “I fuckin’ get it. Someone or someones in town is out to change the status quo. How’s that helping?”
A girl slips from the back of the room and edges to the front, near the bar. “Because all this shit, the drugs, as in excess isn’t us, or any of the gangs. We don’t sell to anyone. We help move things, some of us, from one distributer to another, but not for this town. And the mayor,” her eyes slip to me, “and his buds are busy getting us to blame the other.”
A guy joins her. If they have tattoos that show who they’re affiliated with, I don’t see them. “The new 86sers, man, they deal with people like El Cabeza on behalf of the mayor and his friends. An’ we have this.”
They hand the photos of Riff at the dealership, shaking hands, accepting something, putting it in his pocket. My stomach churns.
It doesn’t look good, even I know that. But I used to love this guy, or care enough to think I wanted to marry him. And I find it hard—
I stop myself.
Diego’s already told me the things Riff’s capable of. As has Riff himself.
So, what looks like a kickback or just a payment, it’s . . .
I breathe out. Diego’s frowning at them. “You caught douche in a deal? Nice. Here’s what you do, don’t deal with these people. Lay low.” He pulls his wallet and takes out a card. “If girls go missing or you see activity by new people, call this number.”
Zane steps up. “That is?”
“Keep out of big shit. Dangerous shit. Fuck, help protect the town, the good people, go help Miss Reed with her after school set up. You can do a lot without spilling blood.”
“Peabody involved?” The kid looks at me.
“Hates the idea,” I say.
Zane beams. “Okay.”
I settle at the bar while Diego talks to them about cohesion and communication. Never once does he lecture them on walking on either side of the law or drugs or anything, and he draws information from them.
The bartender holds up the soda gun and I point to Coke. She then ices a glass and hits the button, filling it before sliding it over to me.
“Okay, I was doubtful when you came in, but the assholes with big money never come here, and you’re making us some money.” With that she peels away to serve one of the tattooed kids, after discreetly checking ID. Then she returns. “You’re okay.”
I smile and pick up the Coke.
The gangs all look the same to me and all seem after the same thing, a way to carve something in their lives that gives a purpose. To belong. And Diego respected that.
They’re talking about the florist and the places Riff’s got money sunk into.
And me? I want the place back to what it was, and Jay safe.
There’s something bugging me, something I can’t put my finger on. Riff’s life has been about being the big man wherever he is, but the football star aspect is so long gone that the memories are the only parts he can ride because the town likes that.
He got Diego arrested on the one legitimate part, the beating, but even that I know he’ll drop if I have to push what he did and said in my house to get it.
There was talk of drugs and illegal weapons which is ludicrous, but it all came from Riff, the arrest.
Because he was jealous.
Diego is the bigger man in every way.
I understand the jealousy.
Guess I’m having a hard time with the rest, because mastermind isn’t a word I associate with Riff.
“Longstocking? Ready?”
