Chain Reaction (Perfect Chemistry #3)

Chain Reaction (Perfect Chemistry #3) Page 25

The rest of the practice I keep myself focused on the drills and not on Nikki. After practice, Marco and I are talking about strategy as we walk out of the locker room. Nikki is waiting for me in the hallway.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey.” I pat Marco on the back. “I’ll meet you at your car.”

He sighs. “All right. But don’t take long. We need to bounce, bro.”

I put my arms around Nikki and bend my head down to kiss her, but she pulls back. “You have plans with Marco?”

“Yeah.” I shrug. “He wants me to help him out with somethin’.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want you to know, all right? Listen, you’ve got issues with the guy and I didn’t want to piss you off. I’ll come over right after, I swear.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to question you.” She pulls my head down and kisses me. “I have trust issues.”

“I know. I’m on a mission to cure you of that.”

I put my arm around her and we walk to the parking lot. Marco is waiting out front in his car. He beeps when he sees me. “Come on, pendejo!” he yells impatiently out the window.

“I’ll see ya later,” I say to Nikki, then kiss her again before sliding into Marco’s car.

A few minutes after we drive off, Marco motions to his glove compartment. “Open it.”

When I do, five little packets of white powder packed in blue cellophane stare back at me.

“Chuy wants us to unload this shit for seventy-five dollars a pop. We get to keep twenty-five.”

I slam the compartment shut. “Dude, that’s yeyo. You know, that stuff I almost got busted for over the weekend.”

“Tell me somethin’ I don’t know. Here,” he says, pulling out a sheet of paper with an address scribbled on it: 2416 Newberry Drive. Evanston. “Chuy said we could unload it by sellin’ it to this culero.”

We drive on Sheridan Road through Fairfield, winding down the tree-lined curvy road until we reach Evanston. I’m silent the entire time, looking out the window at pedestrians and wondering what they think of us. Do they see two Mexicans in a car and immediately think we’re drug dealers? Today they’d be spot on. It’s not a big shipment that could put us in jail for ten years, but it’s enough to get us arrested.

Chuy’s threat runs through my head. You’re either with us or against us. You want to keep your family safe, don’t you?

Yeah, I want to keep my family safe. I have to do this for my brothers, my nephew, my sister-in-law, and mi'amá. Doing drug deals for the LB is an obligation as much as it is a way to find out insider info. I’m pretty sure Alex did it, I know Carlos did it … now it’s my turn.

It’s still light out, so it’s not hard to find the address. We arrive at the house. “This place is a dump,” I say, staring at the random pieces of scrap metal and wooden skids piled up in the yard.

“I’ll wait in the car,” Marco says.

I shove the five packets in my pockets. I’ve never done anything like this before and feel like a complete poser. “Why don’t you do it?” I ask Marco. “You’re the veteran.”

“Chuy told me to make you do it. Somethin’ about you provin’ yourself.” He checks his rearview mirror. “Look, I wouldn’t be surprised if this guy is one of Chuy’s buddies checkin’ up to make sure you’re gonna follow through.”

Shit. “You got my back?”

“Yeah … Yeah, I got your back.” Marco is acting all cool, as if he’s done this a thousand times and it’s not a big deal. “Go on already. Stop stallin’.”

I reach into the small duffel I stashed in Marco’s car this morning before school and pull out the Glock. I shove it into my waistband, then walk to the front door. On it is a sticker that says NO SOLICITING. I’m about to sell drugs. Is that soliciting? I could probably do a kick-ass essay on the topic, making an argument for and against it.

Okay, I am stalling. You can do this, I tell myself as my heart is pumping hard and fast. I ring the doorbell and hear footsteps as someone comes to the door. It opens. A guy with a shaved head that resembles a cage fighter I once saw on TV is standing in front of me. I’m gonna guess he hasn’t showered in a week, because he smells like shit.

“Who the hell are you?” the guys asks.

Umm … what do I say? It’s not easy thinking this stuff up on the fly. “Umm … I think I got stuff that you want.”

I sound like an idiot.

“What kind of stuff?” the guys asks, unfazed at how stupid this conversation sounds.

I start to pull one of the packets out of my pocket when the guy grabs my shirt and pulls me into his house.

“Don’t ever do that again, you hear. Pigs drive around these parts lookin’ to bust guys like you. He sees you flashin’ coke and you and I will both be arrested. All right …” He sniffs a few times and his hands are shaking in anticipation. “Show me what you got.”

I pull out the five packets. “Seventy-five dollars each. Three seventy-five for all five.” I was always good in math.

“How about three fifty?” he counters.

Seriously, are you even allowed to counteroffer on a drug deal? He obviously thinks I’m a rookie. I am, but if Chuy is monitoring this, I better not back down. If I don’t do this, my loyalty will be questioned.

“What the fuck do you think I am, a wholesaler?” I say in a pissed-off tone, slipping into the tough gang member role easily. “Three seventy-five or I’m out.” Listen, as long as I’m here, and risking it all, I might as well get the full amount. “I’ve got ten more guys who’ll give me four bills for shit this pure. Either you take it, or they will.”

I took AP economics—the supply and demand model is powerful stuff. If this dude thinks the supply is low and demand is high, chances are he’ll play the game my way.

He hesitates for a split second. I take my chances and go for the bluff, heading for the door.

“Okay, fine!” he calls out. “I’ll be right back with the money. Just … just wait right there.”

I hold the packets in one hand and reach around for the Glock with my other. If this guy is about to shoot me, I better be ready to fire back or get the hell out.

Shit, what have I turned into? A gangbanging drug dealer getting off on being a badass. How easy it’s been for me to do a complete 180. The only thing keeping me here is the fact that if I don’t, I won’t know what Chuy has up his sleeve. It’s something that involves me. I know that for sure. I can’t go to the cops. Chuy’s got eyes and ears all over the streets, and even hinted that he’s got some of the cops in Fairfield on his payroll. For the first time in my life, I can’t do the right thing.

The thought that this pendejo about to buy drugs from me can be an undercover cop enters my mind, but the way he looked longingly at the yeyo and started sniffing over the prospect of havin’ the stuff within reach makes me forget that thought.

The guy comes back in the room with a bunch of bills in his hand. “Here,” he says, shoving the money at me.

Do I count it now, before I leave, or is that considered a dis? I don’t know the protocol here so I’m making this shit up as I go along. I briefly glance down at the money, then hand over the yeyo.

As I walk back to the car my heart is still pounding. This adrenaline rush gives me a natural high that makes me feel invincible, like I felt when I free solo’d it back in Boulder. The chance I’ll get bitten by a snake here is rare, but lying to Nikki and my family could have worse consequences.

“Let’s get out of here,” I tell Marco as I slide into the passenger seat.

I get a text as we speed away from the house.

Nikki: Hey. what u up to?

I don’t answer.

30

Nikki

I tell Luis to meet me at the animal shelter. When he pulls up on a motorcycle, I do a double take. He pulls off the helmet and walks over to me.

“Is that your motorcycle?” I ask him.

“It’s my cousin Enrique’s. He let me borrow it. He said I could work at his auto body shop a few days a week since he knows I lost my job at Brickstone and business has started to pick up.” He puts his arms around me and holds me for a long time. “I missed you, even if you do smell like wet dog.”

“I gave Granny a bath.”

“Granny?”

“She’s my favorite dog here. You want to meet her?”

“Definitely.”

“Come on.” After introducing him to the staff, I take him back to Granny’s cage. “Isn’t she adorable?” I ask as I bend down and pick her up. “She’s blind, but she can hear you perfectly.”

Luis takes her from me. “Yo, Granny, what’s up?” She nuzzles her nose into his shirt as he pets her. “You want to take her home, don’t you?” he asks me.

“How did you know?”

“By the way you look at her.”

“My parents don’t want me to get a dog, but I’m working on them. I think they’ll cave soon. I even had them come meet her.” I look off into the distance. “I think they’re afraid I’ll freak out when she dies.”

“Will you?”

I stroke Granny behind her ear. “Yeah, probably.”

“How long does Granny have left?”

“How long do any of us have left?” I ask him, getting a thoughtful smile from Luis in return.

I introduce him to more dogs, and point out all of their stories and quirks. Jake the beagle doesn’t stop howling, Hannah the shepherd mix likes her crate mate a little too much. The puppies that came in today will probably be adopted by noon. “Everyone loves the puppies.”

“Except you. You love the pathetic ones, like Granny.”

I push him playfully. “She is not pathetic. She’s needy.”

“I took psych last year. If I was a psychologist, I’d probably diagnose you as a person who likes to feel needed.”

“That’s a fair assumption,” I admit. It’s better than being needy. “What about you, Mr. Fuentes? Are you needy?”

“I can be if you want me to be,” he says, which makes me laugh.

I show him the makeshift studio I set up to take pictures of the dogs to post on the adoption website I created. I pick up the camera and show him the pictures I took of all the dogs at the shelter.

“Maggie sleeps a lot, so I put a pillow down and had her lie on it,” I explain. “And Buster loves to play catch, so I took this one with three balls in his mouth so people would know he’s a playful guy. I try to show the personality of each dog in the pictures.”

“I’m impressed,” he says, eyeing me with admiration as he scans through the pictures. “These are good. I can see them in a book.”

“My goal is to get them adopted,” I tell him.

“You’re a saint.”

I think of the picture that Marco said he didn’t delete. “I’m far from it. I’ve done some really dumb things in the past.”