Page 50 of Capicú Summer

No.

Something isn’t right. From my peripheral vision, under the street lights something glints from beneath Lenny’s hand. I lean forward, pulse hammering trying to make out what I just saw without making it too obvious. It’s a tile. I know it before I see it.

“Oye!” Estrella's voice slices through the night. “He’s cheating. Lenny got tiles.”

Manny jumps up. “You know the rules, cheaters aren’t allowed here.”

Lenny looks at the crowd, nervously chuckling. “I’m not cheating. I won fair and square.”

Yael moves with a calmness that sends a shiver down my spine. I open my mouth to speak, but he’s already there—his hand cups the back of Lenny’s neck, pulling him back just enough to make me gasp.

“Fair and square?” Yael’s voice is low and dangerous. “You don’t even know what that means.”

Estrella pulls out her phone, and begins to record. Or maybe she’s streaming. “Look at Altura’s favorite ass licker, Lenny Cruz.” She shoves the device into his face, shaming him. People stop to stare, pulling out their own phones and recording the show down between the two men.

“Open your hand, Lenny,” Yael sneers directly into his cousin's face. Of course, his demand goes unanswered forcing him to pry open Lenny’s hand like a toddler, coming up empty and with him smirking. Knowing he made a fool out of Yael in front of everyone.

“See… fair and square,” Lenny huffs out, almost laughing.

Then Ruben bends down, his fingers brushing the edge of the table, lifting the missing tile. The very one Lenny tried to hide—holding it up for everyone to see.

“Some people never change,” Ruben says, shoving the domino toward Lenny’s face. “This is how you used to beat Neno.” He chuckles, then adds, “But that asshole knew—that’s why I knew where to look. Neno only let you win cause you were a sore loser and a cheater.” Ruben shrugs. “And you know how the saying goes, once a cheater… always a cheater.”

My eyes narrow, lips curling into a sneer realizing that even back then, he was a phony. Lenny’s face twists, his composure cracking, veins bulging in his neck as his pride unravels right in front of everyone.

“You people are garbage! Nothing but ghetto trash!” he spits, voice breaking. Yael moves, and I reach out to stop him. A tomato flies past us, followed by a soda can—both landing by Lenny’s feet. He’s hysterical now, his voice cracking as he curses us.

Yael shifts, using his body to shield me from whatever his cousin might do next. I can’t help but feel sorry for him, even as he hurls insults at all of us. Because in this moment, he’s not a man who just tried to take everything from us. Right now, he’s just another ghost of Altura drowning in his own noise.

“GET OUT OF HERE!” someone shouts, hurling an empty paper cup. “YEAH! VETE⁠*!”another person chimes in.

From the crowd, a trumpet blares, and in unison they all chant, “Y FUERA!” ⁠*

The sound rolls through the crowd like a wave, echoing from the buildings and into the night. Lenny stumbles back, drenched in sweat and sputtering threats.

“Fuck all of you,” he hisses, while he fumbles with his keys. “And Yael, I still had her.” He laughs cruelly and brokenly, trying to mask his humiliation. “Have fun with my sloppy seconds.”

Yael chuckles, pulling me close to him. And with a lazy shrug, he simply says, “One man's trash is another man’s treasure. Deja el descaro ⁠*Cuz. Leave.” Lenny glares at us, disgust etched all through his features, nose flaring when he spits into the hot asphalt. This time a tomato flies, hitting him square on the top of his head.

“GET OUT OF HERE!” Estrella shouts, hurling more trash into the air, this time she doesn't miss. His purple shirt becomes stained with coffee, and whatever liquid spilled from everything they chucked his way. Tomato guts coat his brown waves and forehead. Lenny takes one final look at us before giving up and getting into his SUV.

The trumpets continue to blare, laughter rising all around us, wild and eclectic. Lenny flips us off and his wheels screech against the pavement. People chase after him down the blow.

Yael’s arm tightens around me, pressing a tender kiss to my temple.

“You’re not trash,” he murmurs against my skin. “Never have been. Never will be. You’re my precious. Mi Ciela.” The salsa in the background grows louder, spilling through the busy streets, dancing in celebration. It didn’t matter where you came from. What street you rep. Right now, we are just Altura.

* Nadie gana con mala fe. - No one wins by acting in bad faith.

* Vete - Leave

* “Y FUERA!” - Get out!

* Deja el descaro - stop being so cheeky

EPILOGUE

Yael