Sweet 16 to Life (9 page)

“Do you know where he was trying to get directions to?”

“No, I never heard that part. He just came up to the porch and said to Cisco,‘Hey, man, I'm lost. Can you give me some directions?' Like that.”

“Just walked right up there to Cisco, almost like he knew him? Seems kind of dangerous to step to a gangster like that, especially after dark.”

“That's true, but like I said, he was just some random guy. He didn't know Cisco.”

I don't buy that, but keep it to myself. “What did Cisco do?”

“He didn't just give the guy directions, he walked him all the way to Center Street to make sure he knew where he was going and didn't get lost again. See? I told you Cisco was a nice guy. You just need to give him a chance.”

Yeah, I might just do that.

I
love Saturday mornings, especially when they kick off a weeklong break from school and I wake up to the smell of pancakes and bacon, one of the few dishes Lana can't mess up. All she has to do is put the bacon on a microwave plate and pour pre-mixed batter on a hot skillet, so it always turns out right. Saturday and the smell of breakfast cooking also means she isn't dodging me this morning, and maybe now I can get some answers out of her. When I go downstairs to the kitchen, I find my assumption is wrong. Lana is pouring bacon drippings into the grease can, and instead of wearing her robe, she's dressed for work. Her weapons are on the counter next to her keys and cell phone. So much for getting her to talk this morning.

“Working on a Saturday?”

She takes a seat at the kitchen table so she can strap a holster and gun to her left ankle. “I offered to take a weekend surveillance detail for a friend. With Christmas coming next month, I could use the extra money.”

I don't say anything while I get a plate from the cabinet.

“You're the only one I spend on at Christmas,” Lana says in a fake cheery tone, “so all my time and a half will go to you. I know you've been wanting me to buy you a—”

“The only thing I really want you to do is stop avoiding me and do what you promised to do two weeks ago.”

“I haven't been avoiding you. It's just so busy at work. . . . .”

“Mom, I haven't seen you in two days and we live in the same house. Even when your caseload is mad heavy, we've never gone two days without seeing each other. Even on your sixteen-hour days, you usually wake me in the morning before you leave and make sure you get home before I go to sleep. I don't need to be a detective to figure out you're avoiding me.”

“Okay, you're right. You're right,” she says a second time, like she's trying to convince herself. “Tonight—we'll talk over dinner. I'll make us something nice and we'll talk. I promise,” she says before she puts her other holster and gun in her purse, grabs her keys and phone, and leaves me to eat breakfast alone.

 

Getting all feisty with Lana must have given me a little bit of courage because now I'm on my way to Center Street in hopes of finding Cisco, but first I make a stop at MJ's house. This isn't a social visit, and in fact, I'm hoping no one in the Cooper household finds me creeping around their property. I'm surprised the gate to the backyard is unlocked given what happened last weekend, until I remember that both MJ and Big Mama still believe MJ caused the fire. Even the fire report blamed it on the fireplace embers, but I'm not convinced.

I don't know what I hope to find, but from what I can tell, the back porch still looks the same as it did when the firefighters left. Lucky for me, they haven't called in a cleanup crew or a construction team yet. Even the ash can with the culprit embers is still on the porch, wood chips floating in the water used to put out the fire. No clues there. I scan the porch, the door leading to the kitchen, the walls. No clues anywhere. I'm about to go into the yard to see if the arsonist may have dropped anything on his way in and out of the yard when a breeze picks up a familiar scent. I sniff my shirt, then my hands, checking for evidence of my breakfast, but the smell of bacon isn't coming off me. It's coming from the house, and that's my signal to get out of there before someone spots me from the kitchen window.

 

I'm sitting in a front booth at TasteeTreets while I stake out the bus stop in front of the restaurant.When I talked to Michelle yesterday, she let slip some of the places Cisco conducts his business. I learned that his favorite spot on Saturday was the bus stop outside Treets. It has a shelter and even though it's all Plexiglas and clear, the front view from the street is partially blocked by a row of newspaper boxes. From the back—the TasteeTreets view—the money and drug transfer is blocked by Cisco and his customer as they sit on the bench inside the shelter. Squad cars can't really see from the street, and as long as Cisco doesn't stay there too long—longer than one or two patrol rotations down Center, he looks like a guy waiting for his bus.

I've been nursing my temporary courage and a chocolate shake for a little over an hour when I notice the same squad car has driven down Center two times. Cisco must have noticed it too because he gets up and walks to the curb to check if his imaginary bus is coming. I polish off the last of my shake, now room temperature, and head out to the stop. When I get a good look at his face, the first thing I notice is he looks a little older than I expected. Donnell is my age and he used to be Cisco's boss, but Cisco looks to be in his late twenties. I guess he's one of those bad guys who never moves up in the game and never gets out, either.

“Cisco?”

“Yeah?” he says, looking me up and down, but not in the way guys usually look a girl up and down. He's doing it the way criminals do to anyone who approaches them, whether they're a thugged-out gangster or an almost-sixteen-year-old girl in jeans, Uggs, and a puffer coat. Lana has fooled more than a few criminals in the exact same outfit, especially since she doesn't look much more than twenty-five. He's trying to determine if I'm a threat.

“I'm not looking to buy—”

“Buy
what?
” he says, managing to sound defensive and nonchalant at the same time. “I don't know what the hell you talking about. I'm just trying to catch a bus.”

“I'm not a cop, either.”

“Wait a minute—I know you. Chick that live across the street from Michelle, right?”

“Right.”

“So what do you want from me?” he says, pulling out a cigarette. I'm always surprised when people do that. It seems like hardly anyone still smokes—well, except for weed. If people weren't still smoking weed, Cisco wouldn't be pretending to catch a bus right now.

“Just to talk. Do you have to be somewhere? Because I can talk another time if you're busy.” Suddenly, my courage has cooled almost as much as the temperature has since I began my stakeout. I guess the weatherman was right about a cold front moving in.

“Naw, you stand right there. The cops just parked up the street in front of the bodega. You talking to me makes it look more legit. Act like you're looking for the bus.”

I play along, and step out to the curb to look for a bus that I know won't be here for another five minutes because I have the schedule memorized. When a boy my age walks up and follows me back into the shelter, Cisco gives him a look that makes him reconsider. Not only does he stand outside the shelter, he walks a good twelve feet down the sidewalk. I feel kind of bad for him since a strong wind is the reason that cold front has arrived so quickly. But I guess he'd rather deal with the weather than with Cisco.

“Your girl Michelle send you to talk to me? She been pressing me hard and I ain't interested in doing time for messing with a minor. Tell her that for me, will you?”

“So why were you at her house last night?” Oops. Didn't mean to get pushy with a guy I'm certain is carrying under his own puffer coat. Let me just tone that down a notch. “I mean, I was on my way to visit her last night when I saw you on her porch.”

Cisco looks over my head at the patrol car, and I know enough not to turn around. I'm hoping he'll help me since I'm helping him. Then he looks at me again, probably trying to figure out how much he should say.

“She used to be my boss's girl. My
ex
-boss.Told him I'd check on her from time to time. I don't know why—ain't like he getting out anytime soon.”

I ignore the creepy smile he gives me, like we're in on something together. I mean, I'll stand here and give Cisco cover from the cops, but after today, I want nothing to do with him.

“What about that other guy who was there? Does he... is he one of your employees?”

“Dude was new to Denver, says he knew my old boss, thought maybe I could connect him to some people.”

I'm really surprised how willing Cisco is to talk to me. I must give great cover.

“So you're going to help him out?”

“Hell naw. These medical marijuana joints opening up on every other block already cut into my business as it is. I told that mofo he won't be getting connected anywhere within a five-block radius of this block, and if he was smart, he'd get on the next flight back to California. Or at least stay the hell off my route.”

California, where MJ's from and where the Down Homes are based. Coincidence, not so much.

“The cops gone yet?” I ask Cisco, ready to find MJ and stop being his impromptu accessory. “The bus really will be here soon.”

“Cops left a minute ago,” Cisco says, doing that creepy smile again. “Figured I owed you a little something.”

“Why would you owe me anything?”

“'Cause you the reason Donnell ain't my boss anymore.”

Great. Now I have a friend in the crime business.

“That isn't really the reason I helped take down Donnell. Maybe you heard about how he was trying to kill me and everything?”

“Don't matter the reason. Thanks to you, I run this now.”

Then Cisco steps into a car that pulls up to the curb as if on cue, and he's gone.

L
ux must not have been scared off by Cisco's warning because when I get to MJ's house after my walk home from Treets, I find them coming out the front door together. MJ looks scared and I can't figure out what Lux looks like because he's wearing shades like he always does, apparently even when he's inside. I guess he's cool like that, but MJ has me wondering why she looks so nervous. This time, I don't think she's worried that I'll bust her to Lana or the cops for something, which is why even though we've been through a lot, she doesn't fully trust me. Yeah, I'm definitely not sold on her love triangle story between Eddie and Lux.

“Wassup?” is all MJ says, and she looks afraid just saying those few words to me. Unless cops with warrants are involved, MJ is never afraid.

“Just wanted to see what you were up to,” I say, staring at Lux the whole time, trying to make out his eyes from behind the glasses, but I get nothing.

Lux's facial expression doesn't change—well, the part of his face I can see doesn't change—but MJ looks so stressed I'm worried she might puke.

“I gotta go,” Lux says. “Remember what I said.”

Before he walks down the steps past me, he pulls the hood of his jacket over his head and I notice a familiar tattoo on the back of his left hand. I might not be able see his eyes, but I know he's staring me down, probably something like that stare Cisco gave me a few minutes ago when I first walked up to him. MJ and I are quiet for nearly a minute while she watches Lux walk toward Center Street.

I'm wondering whether he parks on Center or doesn't have a car because he always seems to be walking. And now that I've heard Lux speak to MJ all threatening-like, I know for sure it isn't me that has her looking so worried. MJ and I don't share the same tastes in guys, and Eddie may not be the smartest dude on the block, but it seems crazy to creep around on a guy you clearly like—Eddie—with one that makes you look as sick and nervous as she looks right now.

“What was that about?” I finally ask because I'm beginning to think MJ is never going to speak. “Lovers' quarrel?”

She finally breaks her gaze from Lux. “What? Oh yeah, something like that.”

“No, I'm guessing it's nothing like that.”

“So why'd you ask?”

“Because I'm worried about you.”

“Don't be,” MJ says, heading back into her house, clearly not planning for me to follow.

“Wait, MJ. You're my friend. You saved my butt a bunch of times so now I'm returning the favor. Keep running around with your old gang members and you'll be back in jail. You're eighteen—no more juvie time.”

“I know how old I am, don't need you to remind me. I told you, me and Lux together now. I didn't say nothing about him being in the Down Homes.”

“You didn't have to. I know he's from California and new to town.”

“Who you been talking to?” she says, coming back out onto the porch and closing the door behind her.

“It's cold out here. Can't we go inside and talk?” I ask, but MJ's silence means I'll be cold for a little while longer. “Look, I know he's got the letters DH on the back of that hoodie he seems to wear twenty-four-seven, and that it's brown—the Down Home gang's color.”

MJ starts to say something but stops.

“I also know that tattoo on the back of his left hand is the exact same one on your upper left arm. Now I know why you never wear a sleeveless shirt, even on the hottest day of summer. But I saw it that time we had to go into the holding cell and the cops took your jacket. You had on a tank underneath and I saw it. It's your gang's mark.”

“My
former
gang,” MJ says, like that's the critical information here even if she's acting like a current member. “Just like it's Lux's
former
gang. So I know him from the old days. That don't mean we plan on robbing banks or selling dope together. Like I said, we just
together
.”

“Yeah, about that. Eddie didn't seem to think he's just a friend with benefits. If I didn't know any better, I'd say Eddie is in love with you.” I hate to snitch on Eddie, but I need to see MJ's reaction to that, and even the toughest gangster girl is going to reveal her true self when she hears the guy she likes might be using the L word about her. MJ doesn't disappoint.

“Seriously? Did Eddie say that . . . that he, you know?” MJ asks.

“No, but I can tell. Just like I can tell you're not creeping on him with Lux.”

For the second time, MJ looks like she wants to say something but doesn't, and instead sits on the plastic-made-to-look-like-wicker sofa on her porch. Big Mama's design tastes inside her house and out say Miami more than Denver. The sofa cushions are covered in palm trees and toucans. I take a seat next to MJ and lean back against a big blue parrot. Normally I'd go with the Lana method of interrogation: stay quiet until the perp gets so nervous wondering what you're thinking that he gives up what he knows. But MJ looks scared again, and like I said, she never looks scared. Whatever is going on between her and Lux, MJ must think it's far more dangerous to tell me about it than to leave me in the dark and risk me busting her to Lana for hanging out with known felons and gangsters. So I let her know that I know.

“Look, MJ—I know you really are trying to go straight and stay in line with your probation officer. I know you want to get your GED and make Big Mama proud she took a chance on you. And now I know how you really feel about Eddie.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So I know Lux has got you scared about something. You gotta start talking or I might jump to some wrong conclusions.”

“You threatening me?” she asks, but doesn't bother to face me like she usually does when she makes her own threats. She just keeps staring across the street at Ada Crawford's house.

“No, I'm trying to help you.”

“Like I said—don't.”

I pull the lighter out of my coat pocket and hold it up, smooth side out.

“I found this in the yard across the street. Thought it might be yours.”

“That's a man's lighter. Why you think it might be mine? I don't even smoke.”

I turn the lighter around to show the side with the raised design. The same design on Lux's left hand and MJ's left arm.

“You're right, MJ. I never thought it was your lighter.”

We both sit quietly for a minute before I speak again.

“MJ, what does Lux have on you?”

This time, she does turn to face me and looks like she might try protesting again, but I guess I asked the right question. Instead of looking threatening, she seems defeated, like she has no more fight left in her. She opens the front door and this time holds it wide for me. I follow her inside.