The Cartel (25 page)

“Right,” Alex replied, thinking his friend would get nothing more than his ass kicked looking like he was going to a Halloween party.

When they arrived at fraternity row, driving their low-rider Chevy, they decided it would be wise to park on a different street after seeing the Mercedes, BMW's, and other fancy cars.

The first house they came to had a bunch of people out front drinking beers and dancing. Everybody looked blonde and light skinned. A couple of the girls glanced their way and laughed. The fair-haired guys they were dancing with flipped them off. Uneasy about their reception, Alex convinced Hector to keep on walking down the row.

The houses on the street were large and magnificent. They all boasted perfectly manicured lawns with ivy growing up the sides of their brick walls, leading to the second story windows. Alex’s mother had spoken of the homes she used to clean looking like these. Alex knew this was the type of home he would one day soon buy for his mom. She deserved this kind of luxury.

“Can you believe this? Look at these places, man,” Hector whispered, not wanting to appear in the least impressed.

“I’ll have a house bigger than all of these someday.”

“Yeah, man,” Hector replied grabbing himself. “You and me both.”

About halfway down the row, they stopped in front of the crummiest looking house. The lawn was covered with beer cans scattered all around and the paint was chipping off its walls. It was the sore thumb of the block.

There was a group of guys out front with a couple of girls hanging around. The sweet aroma of marijuana wafted into the night air. One of the guys on the front porch appeared to be doing a ridiculous imitation of The Beastie Boys as the stereo in the background blasted out “
Fight for Your Right.
” It looked like the party was just getting started.

"Man, this looks like our kind of fiesta," Hector said strutting up to where the group was sitting.

Alex walked coolly behind Hector, his head held high, hands shoved in his pockets like he owned the place, even though he wasn't too sure about this whole venture.

"Hey, man, name's Hector. What's yours?" Hector asked extending his hand out to a guy with a big nose and medium length blonde hair.

"
Me llamo Jay
."

The group giggled.

"Cool. This here's my friend Alex."

Alex let out a clear, "Hi."

“Excuse me, but were you guys invited?" a redheaded girl asked.

"We're about to be," Hector replied.

"Really? And why is that, dude?"asked a guy with offensive acne and long, brown hair.

“’Cause man, we got something you want,” Hector said, pulling out the small vial of coke. Everyone's eyes grew large, as a cloud of silence swept through the crowd. The guy named Jay reached out to grab the vial. Hector slapped his hand away. "Uh-uh. I don't believe we've been officially invited yet."

"You got anymore of that stuff?" Jay asked.

"Do we have anymore of this stuff?" Hector asked sarcastically rolling his eyes at Alex. Alex noticed he was trying hard to conceal his accent from these kids, but it wasn't working.

"We've got plenty of it," Alex interrupted. All the kids turned to gaze upon him.

"Well then, I guess you guys are official guests of the ΣĖ for the evening. Let our house be yours.”

An hour later, there were at least a hundred eighteen-and- nineteen year old sweaty men and women crammed into the place. Rumor traveled quickly out on the row that a couple of Mexican dudes at the Sigma Epsilon house were selling some high-grade powder.

Alex sat in Jay's room drinking a Coke. Jay was boasting about being the president of the house. Hector was downstairs, making connections with kids buying drugs.

"So, Alex, isn't it?" Jay asked. He cracked open another beer and sat down on a red velour sofa. "Where you getting your stuff?"

The pizza faced kid leaned in and Alex gave him a dirty look.

"Back off, Stein," Jay said and the kid sat back in his chair.

"I really can't say."

“I see. You’re dealing with some power?"

Alex lied, knowing it was Hector's brother who helped them get the drugs. "Yeah, the biggest."

"Huh. Well you know that this stuff is becoming pretty popular around campus."

"Apparently so," Alex replied, looking around at the posters of naked women on the wall and the red light that cast a glow throughout the room. The lava lamp sitting on the desk hummed like an aquarium.

"I'm a businessman like you, Alex, and I thought, you guys willing, we could do business together." Jay smoothed back his greasy hair.

"Specifically?" Alex asked. He kind of liked this new sensation of power. This white boy was actually showing him some respect.

"You guys sell to me, and I get it out to the kids here. You could make a killing."

"Sounds interesting."

"I bet it does. I can increase your beaner pockets by hundreds."

Alex looked at him, astonished at what Jay called him. After being in elementary school with white kids, he’d vowed to never let anyone call him names again. He felt the anger boil as he stood up to leave, not wanting to lose his cool. It was clear that Alex was outnumbered.

"Hey man, where you going? What's up? I thought we were talking biz."

Alex grabbed Jay by his shirt collar—his cool gone. "Yeah, man, we were talking
biz
, until you called me something I don’t let anyone call me."

Jay looked stunned, not knowing what to say. Then he let out a nervous laugh and said, "Oh you mean beaner? Jeez man, I thought you guys liked that. I figured you all call each other that."

Alex let go of his shirt and gave him a little shove. "We call ourselves whatever we like. You will address me as either Alexander or Mr. Peña. You got it?"

"Yeah, sure man, no problem. I didn't mean anything by it." Jay wiped the sweat off his forehead, and retreated to his chair.

"Good, I didn't think so." Alex relaxed and sat back down in the chair. “Now, how much product do you think you could buy?"

"A couple of kilos monthly,” Jay replied, his voice still sounding shaky.

"Uh huh, and you’re sure about this?" Alex studied his opponent.

"Yeah, man. Kids here love this stuff," Jay answered, holding up a small mirror with five lines of cocaine on it. “Want some?"

"No thanks." Alex never touched the stuff. Jay passed the mirror back and forth to his brothers in the room. Alex could see the euphoric effect developing immediately as their eyes glazed over. "When will you be ready to buy?"

"You provide the goods next week for me, and I'll come up with the cash."

"Where you going to get that kind of money?"

"Shit man, my old man's in the jewelry business. He puts money in my account all the time. I got plenty. Don't you worry about it.”

Alex couldn't believe that a twenty year old could get the kind of money it would take to buy that much cocaine, and from his own father, too. But he didn't question it. He decided to take a chance and call his bluff.

"All right, I know we're getting a decent supply in on Tuesday. I can deliver to you Wednesday, as long as you have the cash."

"No sweat, man. Can you meet me at the Jack-in-the-Box on Vermont? I don't want you bringing it here. It might look a little suspicious, if you know what I mean."

Alex knew what he meant. He meant it would look funny for a couple of Mexicans to come into their white-bread fraternity in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon.

"No problem."

"Great." Jay reached over and shook Alex's hand. About that time, a raven-haired girl wearing tight jeans and a halter top walked in and hung all over Jay.

"If you guys will excuse me, we would like some privacy. Hey, stay around, Alex, and have some fun. There's a bunch of cute girls downstairs by now.”

Alex nodded and walked out the door. He wanted to leave this place and return to his own neighborhood, where things were familiar. Even in this frat house’s disheveled appearance and the kids with their hair longer than most on the fraternity row, Alex couldn’t help but feel the gap between those who’d come from homes where parents passed out money seemingly without a care, and those who struggled on a daily basis to put food in the mouths of their children.

Coming down the stairs, he could see a group of girls standing around Hector. He couldn't believe it.

Hector, obviously wired, insisted, “Hey, come meet my new friends."

Alex nudged the girls aside and grabbed Hector by the shoulders.

"Easy, what you doing, man? Hang out, be cool, meet Treena over there," he said, pointing to a buxom blonde drinking a beer.

"What am I doing? What in hell are you doing?" Alex asked, amazed his friend had been coking up.

"I'm having a good time. You should too."

"You’re high, man. I thought we agreed not to do this stuff. It's bad for business.”

"You’re too uptight. A little toot now and then won't hurt nothing."

"Come on, we're going home." Alex pulled on Hector's arm.

“You go. I'm having a good time."

"I'm not going anywhere without you. Now let's go."

"Fuck you, man, I'm about to get lucky with one of these little babes, and I'm not about to let you ruin it. And if you weren’t such a stupid square-ass, you’d join the fun,” Hector muttered, pushing Alex away.

Alex couldn't believe he was fighting with his best friend. Hector glared at him, his nostrils flaring like a wild horse.

"Hector, don't do this. I need to get home."

"Why? So your mama don't get mad at you? Man, you crack me up. You're one of the biggest dope dealers around here, and you’re still worried about your mama. Fuck your mama, she'll get over it."

“You know what, Hector? You go do whatever you want. Get high, get laid, get stupid, I don’t care.” With that, he turned around and walked away, holding back his anger, his tears, and his frustration—due not only to a bull-headed friend but to a life that he really didn’t want to lead but knew that he was destined for.

*****

When Alex arrived home it was a little past midnight. Marta was waiting up for him. She stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips as he came through the door. "Where have you been? And don't you go telling me about the library, because I know you’ve been lying to me."

Alex stared at her in amazement.

"I know what you and Hector have been doing, Alejandro, and I can't believe my ears." Marta was torn between slapping him, hugging him, and crying. She'd been told earlier that day by a friend about Alex and Hector selling drugs, and they’d been doing it for several months now.

"What are you talking about, Mama?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," she answered him. She shook her finger at him. "I thought I raised you better than this, but I see you disappoint me. Selling drugs, for God's sakes. Alejandro, couldn't you have found something better?"

"Mama, I'm trying to make enough money to provide a better place for us."

"What. You think drugs are the answer? You break my heart. I can't believe you would do this."

Frustration and anger from years of working for a better life for her child who wanted to throw it away made Marta feel much older than her thirty-six years. She looked at her handsome son, thinking how much he looked like Antonio. Her disappointment was tremendous. Not only did he look like his father, but he also had the same kind of ethics as his father. She’d prayed her strong hold over him would have overcome any of the bad blood that ran through his veins. But staring at him now, she realized she’d obviously failed to save him from the fate of being Antonio Espinoza’s son.

He'd lied to her about his job. When she'd found out the truth, she’d cried. Then anger set in upon discovering he wasn't home when she walked through the door after a hard day’s work. Waiting up for him for a couple of hours gave her time to think about where she'd gone wrong. Maybe she should’ve ignored Antonio’s deceit and moved to Colombia. Obviously, if her son was to be corrupt, he should’ve been able to do it in the lap of luxury his father wanted to provide them all those years ago.

The day she left Antonio behind for the second time in her life played through her memory. She’d made it out of the compound and had taken a cab to the airport where she bought a ticket home with the money she’d taken from the dresser. Then she’d phoned Elisa and asked her to find a new place for her and Alejandro to live and to start packing for them.

“Why?” Elisa asked, her voice laden with fear.

“Please, do this. I wouldn’t ask you for something so important if it weren’t urgent. But it is. I’ll explain everything later.” Once together, she told Elisa everything, who called her a stupid fool for running from a life that could provide everything she had ever dreamed and longed for, all because of one small lie.