Page 22 of Capicú Summer

“You’re avoiding my question?”

I hook my fingers together, taking a deep breath, and I finally look at him and shake my head, blinking away the tears. “Yeah, he has.”

He dips his chin, taking another long drink. Brown eyes shimmering when he moves. “Good,” he replies with a wink.

With that, he sits back down on his chair and I take the steps beside it. The sound of the music fades, leaving nothing but the roaring rush of blood between my ears. Clearing my throat, I try to think of things to say. It's not that there is awkward silence between us, but it’s something… and if I didn’t leave now, my heart would make a fool out of me again. I shouldn’t have hugged him. Or allowed myself to be in his path, but I thought I was over it. For six months, I didn’t write.

I put all my energy into finishing high school and trying to put myself out there. With Lenny by my side, just like I always wanted. He motivates me to dream bigger and out of the barrio. He tells me we’re gonna be the power couple that makes it out of Altura. And even though I smile, it feels so wrong.

“My brother!” Neno shouts over the music, his large arms going up to the air, his face lights up and he grins wide as he takes in Yael. Small waves of warmth run through me, as my twenty-year-old brother greets Yael with love. It didn’t matter that the Cruz and Santos families didn’t like each other before. Because they changed the story. Bringing customers to both bodegas with Capicú Friday. At the end of every week, the bodegas play music and play. Each game costs five bucks to join, and if you’re hungry, they have you covered with either chimi or pinchos, your choice.

“Brother,” Yael sounds from behind me, the warmth of his body scorching me as he passes by me and towards my brother. Joel, Neno’s best friend, as usual, stayed behind, not caring much for interaction with Yael. There’s some bad blood between them but neither says why. We just all the know they don’t fuck with each other and whatever happened is still bleeding.

The good thing is that they both respect Neno, so there isn’t gonna be any issue here. And they rep the same hood, claim the family, and no matter what, they bleed for La Familia. It didn’t matter if you were jumped in, fucked in, or born in. Association with any of the Los Cojuelos meant that you were part of it, and as such, you were protected. At least, that's what I’ve gathered. Neno pretends like we don’t know.

What’s worse, is that mom does too.

I watch as my brother slaps Yael’s back as they hug, before pulling away and pressing their foreheads against each other. Neno whispers something I can’t hear over the music but I know my brother well enough to know he’s speaking from the heart.

Feeling like I'm invading their private moment, I look away and lock eyes with Lenny, who is walking in with a foil tray of corn on the cob, my mother tailing behind him. Taking notice, I see how much I look like my mother. Same brown color waves and skin, full lips, high cheekbones, freckles dusting the bridge of our noses, dimples, and ass for days but no tits.

A small smile creeps up my face as I rise to my feet and walk past my brother and Yael, towards Lenny, hoping he doesn’t see the truth in my eyes. How naive to think that I had control over fate. You see, I didn’t know it yet, but this was the last time we’d all be happy. Back then, I thought the block smelled like barbecue and dreams. What I didn’t know was that it reeked of blood.

* Tas flaco - You’re skinny.

CHAPTER 8

Yael

Five Summers Ago…

Neno’s lips were moving but I wasn’t listening. All my attention is on Adri as she strides toward Lenny. The music—and whatever he’s saying—is nothing but background noise over the sound of my heart breaking. There’s nothing like coming out of juvie and watching the girl you love wrap her arms around your cousin. The sting flares and jealousy lingers, knowing he can give her something I can’t. A life free of the hood, free of blood because it didn’t matter if you bang or not, the blood always smears. It didn’t matter if you’re innocent or guilty, the streets don’t care.

Neno smacks the back of my head. “You listening?”

“Nah,” I answer truthfully, because he’s already aware that I'm not. There's no point in denying it and I’m not a liar. I always say, if you lie about the little things, you’ll lie about the bigger things. You can be the poorest man, but at least be a man of your word. I’m all of that but fall short when it comes to wanting something better for myself. This is all I know—hustling—what my grandmother and mom drilled into me. Too bad being a good man doesn’t put money on the table when you’re drowning in debt.

“Where your head's at, Chulo?”

With your sister, I want to reply but I stay quiet. That’s the rule of Los Cojuelos—you need permission to date within the Familia. Neno made it clear that was never going to happen to him. He wants Adri out of this life, out of Altura, which gets darker by the day. Hell, he even wants me out of it. Especially now, knowing that I’m in love with his baby sister. It’s been two summers since I came to Altura, and just when I wanted to turn my life around, grandma got sick. The bills kept piling up, and I had no choice but to hustle.

The bodega wasn’t bringing in real profit, and with the rivalry, it made things even worse. I did what I had to do, and unfortunately, it set me back and I lost the one thing I wanted to keep.

Adriana.

But that changes this summer. I’ll win her back, even if my cousin hates me for it. She was mine long before she was his—I just need to remind her.

“Diablo, Yael. What’s gotten into you, brother?” Neno fusses, snapping my focus back to him, his eyes darker than his sister’s, a green that reminds me of swamp waters swirling in a darkness that hasn’t touched my Adri.

I force a smile and coyly respond, “Nothing, bro, just tired and hungry.”

He laughs, a throaty deep rumble as he pulls me away. “Of course you are. Ven vamos a comer.⁠* Let’s go eat.”

But I wasn’t hungry.

On the contrary, I couldn’t stomach anything. I could barely breathe, let alone eat. I follow Neno toward the back with the rest of the guys, but my mind stays behind. I want to look back—to see her pressed up against Lenny and torture myself with what could have been. We should’ve been the end game, but I gave him an opening, and he rammed his way through the door, leaving me out in the cold.

“You need to get laid—some good weed, some good pussy and to call it night.” Neno laughs, slapping my shoulder, as he opens the lid to the small grill. His mother gives me a wink with a crooked smile.