Page 23 of Capicú Summer

“Do you want carne or hamburger?” she asks.

I shrug, looking at the variety of pieces of meat, flank steak, pork chops, longaniza, and chicken. And even though my stomach protests in hunger, I make an excuse to not eat. No reason to waste good food.

“It’s good to see you out, mijo.” Ms. Jenny rubs my forearm and gives it a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you, it's good to be back,” I reply before bending down and grabbing another beer from the small cooler sitting on the ground.

“You better stay out of trouble.” She pretends to scold me like she does with Neno, even though we know it’s bullshit—that’s her golden boy. Neno could do no wrong in his mother’s eyes. With one hand on her waist and her index finger pointing my way, she reminds me so much of her, just older, but beautiful like her daughter.

“I plan to,” I reply with a smile as I use my lighter to open the beer bottle.

“Ma, go see if the people need more drinks, give us some space.” It wasn’t a suggestion, it was a direct order from her first born. Ms. Jenny smiles, opening her mouth to argue, but closes it when she sees the look on Neno's face.

Serious.

Lethal.

Shocking even me.

I don’t know how she didn’t see it—that she’s losing her first born to the streets. Without another word, Ms. Jenny walks away. My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach, when over the music, I hear my Ciela’s laughter as she dances bachata with Lenny. He spins her, and when she stops… for a moment, our eyes connect. The smell of grilled meat turns cloying, heavy enough to make my stomach twist. Or maybe it’s the way he clings to her like he owns her. I blink before forcing myself to look away, breaking the magic.

Taking another long chug of the beer, my eyes drift back to Adriana sitting on the small concrete stage we built for her. Soon enough, Paulina Rubio or Selena will play, and excitement sparks through me. I love hearing her sing—especially when it’s for me. Neno snaps his fingers, pulling me from the trance, just as “I Could Fall In Love,” by Selena begins to play in the background.

The sound of my Ciela’s voice filters through the night, steadying my pulse. The world blurs, and all I see is her moving around the stage like she was born for it. A tug pulls at the corner of my lips, how I wish it were only me watching this star shine so bright. But instead, I’m forced to listen to the plans to rob the new chain gas stations opening around Altura. The beat slows, signaling the end of the song. Finally, Neno shuts up, just as his favorite part comes on, and his focus turns to his sister—now I don’t have to pretend.

I can indulge.

I can look at my pretty girl and picture it’s just us two. No one else, just her and I. Finishing my beer, I toss the empty container into the trash and grab another one.

“You need a ride tomorrow?” Joel asks Neno, who nods. Just as I’m about to ask what that's about, my gaze lands on Adriana sneaking through the crowd toward the small laundromat tucked between the bodega and the seafood place. Some things never change—hiding to smoke.

I glance over my shoulder, seeing Neno and Joel carrying on about whatever business they got going, and I take my chance to follow her with a cheesy smile. From the shadows, I trail her like I've always done.

* Ven vamos a comer. - Come on, let’s go eat.

CHAPTER 9

Adriana

Five Summers Ago…

I duck into Don Rogelio’s laundromat, needing space to breathe, to smoke and not feel like my chest is going to crack from the inside out. It’s after hours, so he won’t be coming back in till the morning, and even if he smells the residue of herbs, I always blame it on the incense. I steady my breathing, Lenny’s upstairs—tense that Yael is back.

And me?

Stuck.

Stuck in the middle, trying to lie to myself, or maybe numb myself, at this point. My finger moves over the top shelf, searching for the jar that keeps the goodies. I wonder if Lenny could see it, or am I just creating a problem in my head that doesn’t exist. Maybe it’s because I'm too aware of my own thoughts. It’s my conscience telling me I'm guilty. I let out a sigh. Exhaling harshly through my nose as I grab the container, a frown forms on my lips when I open the lid. No lighter but my joint is still there.

“Fuck,” I grumble, before dipping my hand inside as if magically a lighter will appear. Then, the sound of soft and deliberate footsteps has me freezing in place. Recognition prickles my skin, every hair standing on end. I don’t need to turn around to know that behind me is Yael.

“Need a light?” he says, his tone carrying a smug smile I can feel without having to see.

I turn around.

“No, I’m all good,” I quip back, feigning enthusiasm and even managing a thumbs up, but he just gets closer, pulling a lighter from his pocket, and still not wearing a shirt. Still looking good as ever. Standing so close, I could touch him with zero effort.

So close all I can smell is his spice body wash and the kush he’s holding onto in his pocket. I watch as his hand moves to the exposed part of my side, tracing the small flower tattoo on my left rib.