Tequila Sunset (12 page)

“What? Sure.”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I just woke up, is all.”

“Well get dressed and get over here.”

Flip turned on his bedside lamp. He checked the clock. He’d been
asleep two hours. “I don’t know where you live. And I can’t drive.”

“I’ll send Emilio around to pick you up. Can you be ready in twenty minutes?”

“Yeah, I can be ready.”

“All right. See you soon.”

Flip put the phone down and went to the closet. He rummaged around for something to wear. They were not going clubbing, but he did not want to be disrespectful and just put on a t-shirt. He found a button-up shirt with narrow stripes that he hadn’t worn in a while, matched them with some jeans. Again he thought he needed to buy new sneakers. Maybe he would when his first paycheck came.

His mother was in the living room watching television with the light off. Flip leaned in and gave her a kiss on the head. “I’m going out,” he said.

“Where are you going this time?”

“A friend’s house.”

“Does your friend have a name?”

“José.”

“Is he good people?”

“Good enough.”

“I don’t want you hanging around with no hoodlums, Felipe!”

“Mamá, he’s not a hoodlum.”

“Don’t stay out all night.”

“I didn’t stay out all night before, did I? And turn on a light, Mamá; you’re going to ruin your eyes.”

“My eyes are fine. You stay out of trouble.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He waited out front of the house until he saw Emilio’s headlights make the corner at the end of the block. Overhead the sky was painted by city lights, with barely a star able to break through. In Coffield Enrique once told him that it was so dark on the yard at night that you could see every star in the sky all at once, but he
didn’t tell Flip how he knew that.

Emilio wasn’t dressed up and Flip felt better. He got in and they drove off.

“What kind of party is this?” Flip asked.

“Just José and a few other people. Barbecue. Beer. Relax.”

They drove less than ten minutes before they reached a street of houses. Flip spotted José’s right away. It wasn’t bigger or grander than the houses around it, but it had orange party lights strung around a large patio that extended out into the space where a lawn would be. There were cars lining the street on both sides and when they drew close, Flip saw a crowd of people outside with red plastic cups in their hands, talking. Loud music drifted on the night air.

“I’m going to drop you off here and go park,” Emilio said. “See you later.”

Flip got out in front of the house and went up the driveway. The patio was surrounded by a little fence. Flip found the gate and came inside.

He thought he might recognize some of the faces here from his time at the club, but he couldn’t be sure. Adrift at the edge of the crowd, he cast around for José and finally spotted him through a gap in the press of bodies, working a large brick grill.

It took a minute to navigate the patio until Flip was close enough to tap José on the arm. Intense heat radiated from a mesquite fire. Meat spat on the grill. Jose wore a funny-looking white apron and brandished a pair of spring-loaded tongs in his hand. “Hey, Flip,” he said. “Glad you could make it!”

“It smells good,” Flip said.

“Thanks, man. I use my father’s recipe for the rub. You want chicken or beef?”

“Chicken’s fine.”

“Grab a plate there.” José put a dripping leg quarter of chicken on a paper plate for Flip and gestured with the tongs toward the house. “The door’s open. Get some beer inside.”

“Okay,” Flip said. “I’ll see you.”

“No, I’ll see you. Have fun. Meet some people.”

Flip made his way to the house. The front door stood open. There were more people in the living room talking, eating and drinking. A big flatscreen television was turned to a music channel with the volume down. A stereo pumped out the music everyone was listening to.

The house was not what Flip expected. The TV and the stereo looked expensive, but the furniture was simple and there were photographs of family on the wall along with a few pieces of art. Flip expected bigger, fancier, but the house looked as old as his mother’s house and had the same wrought iron bars on the windows.

He found the kitchen. The sink was filled with ice and bottles of beer stuck out of it, sweating condensation. A broad-mouthed punchbowl on the kitchen table served up a bright red mixture into plastic cups. Two bottles of tequila, almost empty, stood nearby. Flip chose beer.

It was hard to find a place to sit and eventually Flip went out the side door under the car park and put his plate on the roof of the parked Lexus. His chicken was hot and greasy and he licked his fingers to keep them clean. After that, the beer was the perfect complement.

A woman’s voice brought him around: “Flip?”

Graciela was dressed differently than she had been at the club. Gone were the form-fitting clothes, replaced with jeans and an off-the-shoulder top that exposed a bra strap. Her hair was let down.

“Hey,” Flip said. “Graciela. How are you?”

“I’ve been waiting all week for you to call me. Did you lose my number?”

Flip felt color in his face and took a swig of beer to cover. “No, I didn’t. I just started a job and I’ve been real busy. I’m sorry.”

Graciela raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you too busy to talk now?”

“No. It’s fine.”

“I was hoping you would call so we could go out,” Graciela said. “But if your job keeps you so busy…”

“It’s not that,” Flip said. “I start work real early and by the time I get home I’m done. They’ve been working me hard, you know? And my mother, she wants me to stay in. But I promise I’ll call you next week. Maybe we can get something to eat.”

“That would be nice. Where are you working?”

Flip told her and then he told her other things, like how Alfredo had given him the job and what he had to do all day. It was not exciting stuff, but she listened and Flip was grateful. He caught himself almost mentioning that he’d been in prison. He decided to shut up for a while. “How is school?” he asked.

“It’s good. At the school we get people who come in for manicures and we get to practice on them, but only when we’re good enough. The people don’t pay that much, but they want to have a professional nail job done, you know?”

“I’ve never had my nails done.”

“Maybe I can do yours sometime. Men get it done, too.”

“They do?”

“Sure. Men don’t like to get all painted up, but the rest is nice.”

“Okay, I’ll try it.”

“After you take me out,” Graciela said. “I don’t want you to think you can get a manicure for nothing.”

A silence started to fall between them and Flip thought quickly for some way to keep going. He did not want her walking away. “Listen,” he said, “José told me to meet some people. You know a lot of people here?”

“I know some. You want me to introduce you around?”

“Yeah. Just let me get another beer.”

“Get one for me.”

She led him through the crowd from kitchen to living room to patio, stopping here and there to introduce Flip to the people she
found there. As he had at the club he tried hard to remember names and put them to faces, but he only had a moment or two to talk before Graciela whisked him away to the next group. From time to time Flip caught sight of José at the grill, cooking and talking and sometimes having a beer. They passed through his orbit once and then again and finally they were there.

José smiled when he saw them. “Flip! You met Graciela. She’s a good girl to know because she knows everybody.”

“I just found out,” Flip said.

“Graciela, are you making sure Flip has a good time?”

“What do you think?” Graciela said.

“I think you’re going to get Flip in trouble,” José said. He laughed and touched her on the back familiarly. Flip felt a pang of something, but he wouldn’t call it jealousy; he didn’t know what it was.

“I’m going to take Flip away now,” Graciela said.

“Good. You don’t want to stand here all night talking to me.”

Graciela took Flip by the hand and pulled him away from José, back toward the house. They entered through the front door, but she angled away from the kitchen and down an unlit hallway.

“Where are we going?” Flip asked.

Graciela put her finger to her lips.

They reached the end of the hall and turned left. Graciela found a door in the dark and opened it, tugged Flip to bring him along behind her. When he was inside, she pushed the door closed.

She stood on her toes and kissed him on the lips softly, then harder. He put his hands on her body, felt her slender waist and then her hips. He tasted her tongue.

There was a bed in the room and Graciela pushed Flip toward it until the mattress hit the back of his legs and he sat down. They kissed again. Her fingers were on the buttons of his shirt.

Flip helped her get his shirt off. She put her hands on his chest and eased him onto his back. They struggled together to climb
farther onto the bed and then she was straddling him. Her top went up over her head. Flip’s eyes were growing used to the darkness and he saw her slender body hovering above him as she unhooked her bra. He touched her little breasts, the erect nipples. She leaned over him so he could take one into his mouth.

They stripped each other. Flip was aching when she reached down between them and guided him into her. She was heat and wetness and she groaned when he pushed in.

She made love to him slowly, but with urgency. Flip wanted to put his hands everywhere at once, to feel her skin under his touch. When she kissed him again he couldn’t hold back and he finished inside of her.

For a while she lay atop him and they breathed together. Eventually she slipped free of his embrace and he heard her dressing in the dark. “Do you have to go?” he asked.

“It’s not our bedroom,” Graciela whispered. “We can’t stay here forever.”

He got up and fished for his clothes, but she was already dressed. “Just a minute,” he said.

Graciela kissed him. “Don’t forget to call me this time,” she said.

She opened the door and the sounds of the party poured in. Then she closed it and was gone.

FIVE

C
RISTINA OVERSLEPT ON
M
ONDAY MORNING
and nearly didn’t get Freddie to the bus on time. Traffic to the command center was bad because of a road accident. She got to the squad room a half an hour late.

“Nice of you to join us,” Robinson said.

“Can it, Bob. Not this morning.”

“Rough day at the office?”

“I need a new alarm clock. Christ, I didn’t even get to have breakfast yet.”

“I think there’s doughnuts by the coffee machine.”

“Okay.”

Cristina sorted through her messages and checked her email, but it was hard to focus. A wrong start to the day could put her into a tight spot all day and she couldn’t allow that. When Robinson returned with doughnuts she ate two almost without tasting them and then went for coffee.

The door to Captain Cokley’s office was closed. When it opened, Cokley cocked a finger at Cristina. “Salas, Robinson, come on in here.”

Cokley’s office was not grand, but it was large enough for a small meeting table to fit in with his desk. He pointed them toward chairs and Cristina saw the woman in the black suit for the first time: she sat with her back to the wall, a laptop open in front of her and a scattering of printouts at hand. She looked tall even sitting down
and her hair was perfectly straight to her shoulders.

“Special Agent McPeek, these are my detectives, Cristina Salas and Bob Robinson,” Cokley said. “You two have a seat.”

McPeek got up to shake their hands and Cristina saw that she was maybe as tall as Robinson. Her suit looked expensive. “Pleased to meet you both,” McPeek said. “You can call me Jamie if you want, I don’t mind.”

“Salas and Robinson are my go-to people when it comes to Barrio Azteca,” Cokley said.

“Is that so? Then I’m definitely talking to the right folks.”

“What’s going on?” Cristina asked.

“I’m with the Safe Streets Gang Task Force,” McPeek said. “I’m new, so I’m still getting to know everybody. I’ve only been in the El Paso office for three months. From what I understand, your unit has coordinated with the task force before.”

“Sure,” Robinson said. “Special Agent Gorden was our last FBI guy.”

“I’ve met Special Agent Gorden. He did a very nice job here, made it easy for me to get up to speed. He’s out in California now.”

Cokley sat on the edge of his desk. Cristina felt him hovering over her shoulder. “Special Agent McPeek is here to talk about something new that’s coming down the pipeline. As soon as she told me all about it, I knew you’d have to be brought in.”

“What is it?” Cristina asked.

“Well, I should start out by saying that this is an operation that’s only affiliated with the task force and isn’t actually part of its usual function. This particular undertaking involves the FBI, DEA, ATF and the federal police in Mexico.”

“That’s a lot of alphabet soup,” Robinson said.

“It’s a delicate balance,” McPeek replied. “And now we’re looking to draw in some members of the El Paso Police Department. Specifically: you.”

Cristina leaned forward in her seat. “Why us?”

“Your captain tells me that you’ve been regularly surveilling a
capo
in the Barrio Azteca power structure by the name of José Martinez. Is that correct?”

“We like to keep tabs on him.”

“So do we.”

“We’ve been trying to keep track of José’s lieutenants, sergeants and soldiers,” Robinson added. “Guys on that level have been easier to bust and sometimes they’ll roll on other Aztecas, but it’s never José.”

“What would you say if I told you that we’re building a case against José Martinez that he won’t be able to wriggle his way out of?”

“I’m interested,” Robinson said. “Cris, you interested?”

“Yeah,” Cristina said. “Tell me more.”

McPeek closed her laptop firmly. “That can wait until tomorrow,” she said. “I’d like to invite the both of you down to our offices for a full briefing on what we’re doing.”