the
kitchen?”
“For
now.” She got up and went to the window. Peeking through a crack in the drape
at the activity down on the street, she saw the ambulance, the flashing cop
cars, the gathering crowd, the yellow tape — all the usual crime scene
stuff. She turned back toward the living room.
“It’ll
probably take a few days for this thing with Lowell to cool down. The cops won’t
find anything and pretty soon they’ll write it off as another street crime.”
She returned to the chair. After shifting around in it a little, she said, “Meanwhile,
you take the money and your
honey and get the hell out of Dodge. As far away as possible. Y’understand?”
Eddie
nodded. “But what about the money? I mean, we can’t just put it in a bank. What
can we do with it?”
“Hey,
that’s your problem, little brother. I didn’t pop that Mess’can, I didn’t
steal my best friend’s girl, it wasn’t me that screwed over some loan shark.”
She saw
the old hangdog expression sliding down Eddie’s face. She knew he was at sea
without a sail, with violent storms moving in fast. Slipping onto the sofa, she
took his hand.
“Listen,
Eddie, I didn’t mean it like that. We’ll figure out something, but we got to
cover all the angles. You’re in deep shit here. Now, by making it look like you’re
the one down there in the street, you’ve built a good scam, a good cover for
yourself. For now. But the longer you’re here, the bigger the chance of it
falling apart. Think about it. You can’t be hanging around the very block where
you were supposed to be killed. There’s no telling who all’s gonna be nosing
around here and for how long.”
Her
voice slipped way, way down as she turned his head so his eyes connected with
hers. She said, “I don’t want anything to happen to my little baby brother.
Ever.”
He
almost broke a smile. It was all right now. The churning waves inside him were
dying down. Linda had spoken, issuing her ruling on this whole situation.
Instinctively,
he started to put his head on her shoulder, then retreated. But she pulled his
head down anyway, so the unwinding was complete. He was finally at rest on her
familiar bosom, with her arm securely
around him. From his other side, Felina reached for him. She held him tight
around his waist, then she laid her head on his rib cage, as he slid his arm
around her.
≈≈≈
Soon, he was sound asleep right there on the couch. The women eased up
from him.
“The
guest bedroom’s in there,” Linda whispered to Felina, clicking off the light,
pointing over her shoulder, as she walked into her own room.
Stepping
softly, Felina crossed into the guest room, where she quickly fell asleep
herself. As she drifted off, she shook loose the events of this horrid day, and
soon she was dancing in peaceful, vivid dreams of México lindo .
17
M orning broke
over Houston, the harsh rays of dawn attacking the
waiting room of Ben Taub Hospital. The young doctor emerged from the intensive
care unit, his haggard face telling the story. He had endured a particularly
demanding graveyard shift. His muscles ached, especially the ones between his shoulder
blades just below the back of his neck. They were always the first to go.
Fortunately,
he had only one more thing to take care of, then he could go home and give
himself over to sweet sleep. He approached two well-dressed men standing over
by the sofa. Concern covered their dark-complected faces.
“You
can go in and see him now, Mr. Vega,” he said to the shorter of the two, “but
only for a couple of minutes. Don’t do anything to get him excited. No raising
your voice, no sudden moves. Mr. Salazar’s had a very rough day. He’s lucky to
be breathing at all.”
Vega
spoke. “How ‘bout it, doc? Is he gonna be all right? Is he gonna make it?”
“The
bullet tore open his stomach. He lost a lot of blood. It’s a good thing they
got him here quickly, or he’d have
kitchen?”
“For
now.” She got up and went to the window. Peeking through a crack in the drape
at the activity down on the street, she saw the ambulance, the flashing cop
cars, the gathering crowd, the yellow tape — all the usual crime scene
stuff. She turned back toward the living room.
“It’ll
probably take a few days for this thing with Lowell to cool down. The cops won’t
find anything and pretty soon they’ll write it off as another street crime.”
She returned to the chair. After shifting around in it a little, she said, “Meanwhile,
you take the money and your
honey and get the hell out of Dodge. As far away as possible. Y’understand?”
Eddie
nodded. “But what about the money? I mean, we can’t just put it in a bank. What
can we do with it?”
“Hey,
that’s your problem, little brother. I didn’t pop that Mess’can, I didn’t
steal my best friend’s girl, it wasn’t me that screwed over some loan shark.”
She saw
the old hangdog expression sliding down Eddie’s face. She knew he was at sea
without a sail, with violent storms moving in fast. Slipping onto the sofa, she
took his hand.
“Listen,
Eddie, I didn’t mean it like that. We’ll figure out something, but we got to
cover all the angles. You’re in deep shit here. Now, by making it look like you’re
the one down there in the street, you’ve built a good scam, a good cover for
yourself. For now. But the longer you’re here, the bigger the chance of it
falling apart. Think about it. You can’t be hanging around the very block where
you were supposed to be killed. There’s no telling who all’s gonna be nosing
around here and for how long.”
Her
voice slipped way, way down as she turned his head so his eyes connected with
hers. She said, “I don’t want anything to happen to my little baby brother.
Ever.”
He
almost broke a smile. It was all right now. The churning waves inside him were
dying down. Linda had spoken, issuing her ruling on this whole situation.
Instinctively,
he started to put his head on her shoulder, then retreated. But she pulled his
head down anyway, so the unwinding was complete. He was finally at rest on her
familiar bosom, with her arm securely
around him. From his other side, Felina reached for him. She held him tight
around his waist, then she laid her head on his rib cage, as he slid his arm
around her.
≈≈≈
Soon, he was sound asleep right there on the couch. The women eased up
from him.
“The
guest bedroom’s in there,” Linda whispered to Felina, clicking off the light,
pointing over her shoulder, as she walked into her own room.
Stepping
softly, Felina crossed into the guest room, where she quickly fell asleep
herself. As she drifted off, she shook loose the events of this horrid day, and
soon she was dancing in peaceful, vivid dreams of México lindo .
17
M orning broke
over Houston, the harsh rays of dawn attacking the
waiting room of Ben Taub Hospital. The young doctor emerged from the intensive
care unit, his haggard face telling the story. He had endured a particularly
demanding graveyard shift. His muscles ached, especially the ones between his shoulder
blades just below the back of his neck. They were always the first to go.
Fortunately,
he had only one more thing to take care of, then he could go home and give
himself over to sweet sleep. He approached two well-dressed men standing over
by the sofa. Concern covered their dark-complected faces.
“You
can go in and see him now, Mr. Vega,” he said to the shorter of the two, “but
only for a couple of minutes. Don’t do anything to get him excited. No raising
your voice, no sudden moves. Mr. Salazar’s had a very rough day. He’s lucky to
be breathing at all.”
Vega
spoke. “How ‘bout it, doc? Is he gonna be all right? Is he gonna make it?”
“The
bullet tore open his stomach. He lost a lot of blood. It’s a good thing they
got him here quickly, or he’d have
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