Smash & Grab (4 page)

I pass the stolen
car keys off to Eddie in the church lobby as soon as we're inside. Hearing them jingle, I can't help thinking about the girl again, the one who landed on the hood last night. I actually dreamed about her once I finally fell asleep: I caught her in my arms before she landed on the car. Dream her was sexy. Made me regret not taking off after her. I don't even know what she looks like. Not really. Or where to begin trying to find her.

“What'd ya get me this time?” Eddie asks, holding up his fist and giving me dap, his hair still wet around the edges from the hurried shower he must've taken to get to mass on time. He reeks of cigarettes and Axe.

Carlos is next to him, his stomach folding over his pants, his shirt so tight across his giant arms that the seams look ready to burst. He's mostly muscle, but for the past year that's been changing. If homes doesn't start working out again, he's going to be a liability during the jobs. Too big and bulky to run away fast. Too easy to identify. I'll have to find a way to bring it up later on. After the service, when he'll be at his most pious and forgiving for the week.

“Same old, same old,” I say, my eyes roving the crowd of people, looking for Gabriel.

He hasn't been showing up to church for a while, breaking his routine. He's been partying and drinking a lot more. And he's been going to visit his old man in jail, too. I don't like anything out of the ordinary happening while we're doing these jobs. Anything that might suggest we've got some bad stuff going down. The less conspicuous we are, the more closely we keep to our usual habits, the better. It ticks me off that he doesn't get this. We always attend mass. It's expected. Period. You don't and people start to really worry, the tias light candles and pray for you. Last thing we need is extra eyeballs scrutinizing our every move. Even if they mean well.

“Why can't we ever go with something manly—a Hummer or somethin'? Why does it always gotta be the estrogen mobiles?” Eddie shakes his head at the keys dangling from a key chain with a plastic frame, some little baby's face grinning out of it, before tucking them in his pocket. Bet the lady who owns the car's realized it's gone by now. I shrug. It doesn't matter. What's done is done.

Benny snorts and tries to stifle a laugh as Eddie groans.

I don't answer. He already knows why. Between him and Gabriel, I'm starting to lose my patience. In their heads, they see us like we're in some kind of vigilante posse. Worst thing I ever did was show them the movie
Heat.
Now they think they're the teenage Sizemore and De Niro. Me? I don't get the glamour of going out in a hail of bullets. Robbers who get too cocky or start to glamorize the job have a bad end. I can't let that be us.

We head inside and find our families. Benny settles into a pew near the front and puts his arm around his mom. She leans her scarf-covered head on his shoulder. She started chemo a little while back, and now she's completely bald. Soldado worked it out with the Eme (the Mexican Mafia, otherwise known as rulers of the street, the Florencia Heights gang, the Pelican Bay State Prison, and everywhere in between) so that all her bills are taken care of. He's even been having some of his Florencia Heights homeboys drive her to chemo when Benny's in school and his sister's busy working. He's good like that. Always has been. None of us wanted to get jumped in to Florencia Heights, but he's still had our back ever since the first day we met.

Still, if Benny ever stopped doing the jobs, Soldado wouldn't be able to convince the Eme to keep helping. Benny'd have to drop out of school, and he and his sister, Rosie, would have to carry the family's expenses. No way his mom would stand a chance of getting better then. Rosie may be Soldado's girl, but the Eme isn't a charity and saying no to something they want you to do is suicide. High up as Soldado is, he wouldn't be able to protect Benny. It sucks, but the way they see it, if Benny really loves his family, he'll keep toeing the line. It's like that for all of us. Gabriel does the jobs and his dad stays protected at Pelican Bay. I do mine and my dad's gambling debts are canceled out. Carlos and Eddie get enough dough together to put their sisters through college and get them out of the hood.

I make my way to my family's usual pew and drop down next to my mom as the organ grinds to life. The hypocrisy of us all being in a church after what we've done and what we're about to do tomorrow is not lost on me. Sometimes I break into a cold sweat over it, especially when the priest starts talking about damnation. I can't stop myself from expecting some white-hot God light to come down and fry me where I sit.

Even if I don't confess my sins to the priest, I do confess them silently to God from the pew, every single one, and I tithe some of my share from every take. So I hope the Big Man keeps giving me a pass, because this situation is strictly temporary. I've almost paid off my dad's debt. If Mom's business starts growing the way she thinks it will and I get into UCLA with a full scholarship, it could happen. No, it
will
happen. It has to. One way or another, I'm climbing out of this hole. With any luck, one day I'll figure out a way to get Benny, Gabriel, Carlos, and Eddie out, too.

“Pay attention, mijo.” My mom puts her hand over mine and pats it. Her palm is rough from too many years spent working nights, cleaning office buildings or waiting tables, after spending all day taking care of my sister and trying to get her T-shirt company off the ground. I look over at her, at the shadows rimming both eyes. She still looks young and pretty—if tired—all polished up like her special-occasion silverware. I hate that she works as hard as she does. My dad is no help. He's probably still lying on the sofa, alcohol oozing from every pore.

He was out cold in the living room when I got home last night, a giant Gatorade bottle lying empty next to him. I didn't need to sniff it to know he'd had more than blue Gatorade in it. Damn silly that he hides his vodka, but so is Mom's refusal to call him on it. He gets so creepy-still sometimes when he's drinking heavy like that. When I was little, I used to think he might die while we were asleep, so a couple of times a night I used to come out of my room and put my fingers under his nose and wait to feel the heat of his breath on my skin. Now sometimes I sort of hope he does stop breathing. I know Mom doesn't believe it, but we'd be better off without him.

Maria is next to Mom, her hair done up in braids with little pink silk ribbons, her head leaning on my mother's shoulder, her chubby little legs straight out in front of her. She's messing with the lace trim on her dress and humming the theme song to her favorite TV show. “Hey, sis,” I whisper as I reach over and squeeze her hand. She gives me this silly grin before climbing over Mom to sit in my lap. Letting my three-year-old sister snuggle on me doesn't exactly jibe with my tough-guy cred, but whatever. I tug her braid and she giggles.

“Shh.” Mom frowns at us, but she's not really mad.

Just as Father Diaz really gets going, Soldado and Rosie slip into mass, late as usual. Guy can't make a grand entrance any other way. He nods at me as they take a seat with Benny and his mom. Nearly everyone is staring at him, but he acts all chill, like he doesn't notice. As the newest leader of the Florencia Heights gang, a full-on Eme carnale, he's the toughest dude in the hood, but to look at him right now, dressed up in his Sunday best with his arm around Rosie, you'd never guess it. If not for the gang tattoos peeking out from under his shirt collar along the back of his neck, he could be a businessman working in advertising or something. Homes dresses sharp for mass. He turns and looks back at me, a question in his eyes. He wants to know if I got the car. I nod, and he half smiles before turning his attention back to Father Diaz.

After church we usually
linger outside. This week is no different. Mom is talking to the priest, wiping the tears from her cheeks with Abuela's lacy handkerchief—the one she always brings to mass. It's old school, but Mom is way into the vintage. It's how she got the idea for her T-shirt business. She remakes these old images of East Los Angeles and Mexico and turns them into T-shirts. Sometimes she uses band logos, too. At first she sold them to tourist-type shops, but lately she's started branching out. If the hipster store likes this order we just filled, it might mean orders from more stores like it. Someday maybe she'll get her stuff on Melrose Avenue. Mom deserves it. She dropped out of school and put her life on hold when she had me, and now that she finally has a dream for herself, I want more than anything for her to achieve it. All we need is a minor-sized miracle. A tiny boost. That's probably what she's talking to Father Diaz about. That or my dad.

I look down at my sister, who is about a minute away from melting down. “Just a little bit longer and we'll go. Then lunchtime. What sounds good?”

She grins up at me. “McDonald's. I want a Happy Meal.” She's been begging all week for one, ever since she saw the latest commercial plugging the toys.

“You got it,” I say, and Mom gives me a disapproving look because she's got food all set at home. “Come on. I'll take her to get it. And whatever you made for lunch, I'll eat her share and mine. Nothing'll go to waste,” I tell her. “Besides, the baby needs a new Littlest Pet Shop.” She rolls her eyes and Father Diaz laughs.

“I not a baby.” Maria frowns, and I laugh and chuck her under her chin.

“We ready for tomorrow?” Gabriel asks me, materializing out of nowhere and pulling me away from Maria and Mom. “You got the car?” He looks older today in the bright sunlight. Not quite twenty-three, he's already got these lines forming around his mouth and eyes. It makes him look sort of sick. Drawn somehow. It's probably the visit he made to Pelican Bay to see his father yesterday. Those trips always seem to mess him up, but that doesn't stop him from going.

“Yeah, parked it in the garage of the Madison Street house, like you told us to.” Gabriel works construction during the week, remodeling foreclosures for an investor and getting a percentage of the sales. Provided the houses sell quick enough. Soldado hooked him up with that gig, too—a reward after the first job. Besides, the houses make for great meeting spots for Soldado and his boys until they're ready to sell. Keeps his business dealings off the streets, where the cops might see.

“Eddie's got the keys already. Thought you'd be early to mass so we could go over the plans again. Why weren't you?” I'm taking a chance. It bugs Gabriel to be accountable to anyone, especially me. He's just as likely to smack me upside my head as to admit where he was, and homes can scramble your brains, but I want him to know that
I know
he's not keeping to his usual routine. Besides all his visits to the jail, he's been hanging out with the Florencia boys more and more. It has me worried. We all agreed—no one gets jumped in. We stay free agents. We do the jobs only because it helps our families. Once you get jumped in to FH, that's it. There's no leaving. Ever.

Gabriel's Adam's apple bobs in his throat as he swallows. There are little beads of sweat lining his forehead and chin. “Why're you so curious?” He wipes his upper lip when he sees me staring closely at his face, and he squints at me. “I don't need you checkin' up on me. Soldado had an errand for me, if you gotta know. Had to do with the next job after this one. This one's big, homes. Huge. Seriously. Like, game-changing.”

Benny looks over to where Soldado is leaning on his car, with Rosie wrapped up in his arms. He's laughing and joking with his boys, but his eyes keep cutting over to where we are.

He won't come over. The less he's seen with us, the less likely someone will connect that we're all working together. Soldado nods like he can hear what Gabriel's telling us and then kisses Rosie's neck until she squeals. A couple of the old ladies leaving the church give him a disapproving look—lips all pursed like they sucked on a lemon just now, but they hurry by without saying anything. Eddie joins our group.