"We'll be waiting. And Aina? I owe you one."
"Maybe I'll call you on that some day, Theo," she says and I hear the smile in her voice before she breaks the connection.
Josh doesn't have to ask how it went. With his Wildling ears, he heard both sides of the conversation.
"Old girlfriend?" he asks.
I shrug. "Never got the chance to find out."
I make myself sit down when all I want to do is get on my bike and go finish the job Josh started on Trucho. It takes me a few moments before I trust myself not to smash something, and then I realize Josh has been sitting there studying me.
"What?" I say.
"You ever think of going back?" he asks.
"Back where?"
"To that otherworld."
"Bro, it's so not my scene. I don't even have a clue how it works. But say I tried and by some fluke I got over there. What if I couldn't get back? I know the place has got something going for it, but it's too weird for me. I like my pleasures and I want to know my enemies. "
He nods. "I get it."
"Have you tried?" I ask.
"No, but I don't think it's hard. I'll bet it's like changing to your Wildling shape. You will it to happen and it does."
"I guess your girlfriend's still over there," I say.
"I don't know. She's not my girlfriend—I mean, not anymore, right?"
My phone rings and I don't have to answer him.
"Aina?"
"I need you to be on the level," she says. "I don't want you to be setting my brother up. I know he's … what he is. But he's still my brother."
"Girl," I tell her, "I know all about messed-up brothers. Trust me on that. We just want to talk to Chico."
Unless he won't call off the dogs on Marina and her family, and then all bets are off. But I don't tell her that.
"You know where Casa Raphael is?" she asks.
"The taquería up on South Shore Drive."
"That's the place. He said to meet him there in half an hour. And Theo? He said to come alone."
"I can't do that. It's not me that needs to talk to Chico, but my friend. I'm just facilitating."
She laughs. I guess she thinks that's a big word for a banger.
"Who's your friend?" she asks.
I give Josh an apologetic shrug as I say, "Just a high school kid."
"What? Does he know what you're getting him into?"
"It's more like he's getting me into it."
There's a long pause. "You're going to have to tell me all about this when it's over," she says, flirtation plain in her voice.
"Sure."
"Don't think I won't hold you to it."
Crap.
"I guess I need to tell you something," I say. "You know it's been a while since that night. I'm seeing somebody now."
Josh gives me a surprised look. There's another moment's silence on the other end of the line.
"Are all the Ocean Avers like you?" she asks. "Because I've got to tell you, the bandas don't think like gentlemen."
I'm not sure how to respond to that, so I keep it short. "No, it's just me."
She goes quiet again, then finally says, "I still want to hear the story."
"You got it. Thanks, Aina."
I close my phone.
"Let's saddle up," I tell Josh. "How'd you get here?"
"No, man. I'm doing this on my own. I can ride over there on my bike."
"You won't even make it halfway in that neighbourhood. I'm coming," I tell him as I stand up.
"Fine. But not as an Ocean Aver."
"I—"
The look on his face shows me he's dead serious.
"Okay," I tell him. "But you're riding with me."
We get as far as my Harley before J-Dog steps out of the clubhouse and comes sauntering over to us.
Perfect. I've just finished talking him out of a run on the Kings and here I am, maybe starting a war with them myself.
"What's up?" J-Dog asks.
"Nothing much, bro," I tell him. "Just a little personal business."
He gives Josh a once-over.
"Like we were talking about before?" he asks.
"You got it."
He gives Josh another long look, then tips a finger against his brow and turns back to the clubhouse. The handle of a pistol's sticking up out of the back of his jeans.
"What was that about?" Josh asks in a quiet voice.
"That's my brother J-Dog," I tell him, "so who the fuck knows?"
"My bike'll be okay here while we're gone?" Josh asks as he climbs on the Harley behind me.
I turn to look at him. "You're kidding, right? Who's going to mess with a bicycle outside of our clubhouse?"
"Somebody in the gang?"
"Only if they've got a death wish, bro."
I kick the Harley to life and the rumble of the big engine between my legs soothes me like pretty much nothing else can.
Except then I get a picture of Marina in my head.
There's nothing happening there for you, I tell myself.
I give the throttle some gas and the rear tire spits dirt as we pull out onto the highway.
Marina
The lunch bell goes and it looks like Josh still hasn't shown up at school. A hard knot of worry settles in my stomach. I head outside and see that Theo hasn't shown up either. Even if he were there, I don't know what I'd do. It's way too easy to start stupid rumours in this school.
"Don't worry about Josh," Des says when he catches up with me outside.
"Yes, but—"
"Dude. He's working on the problem even as we speak."
"And you know this because?"
"I called him between classes."
I start to take my phone out, but he shakes his head.
"I already tried," Des says, "but he's not answering now. My guess? He left his phone at home so that the cops can't track him."
We're walking across the field toward the bleachers. Julie's already up in our usual spot. She waves and I wave back. I'm happy to have reconnected with her, but right now I wish she wasn't here because we can't talk about Wildling business in front of her.
"Track him doing what?" I ask Des before we get to the bleachers.
"Whatever it is he's got planned to get the Kings to back off."
I roll my eyes. "No, seriously."
"I am being serious."
This is worse than I thought.
"They're going to kill him."
"Chill, dude," Des says. "This is Josh we're talking about. If they get stupid, they're the ones who'll be going to the hospital."
"Des, they've got guns!"
I can't believe the things he comes out with. I know it's not really his fault—it's just the way he is. But sometimes …
I turn away before I give him a well-deserved whack and then I see her across the football field, leaning against the chain-link fence with a couple of her friends like she doesn't have a care in the world.
Ampora.
I'm usually pretty good at keeping my temper, but my anxiety and frustration with Des have put me in a weak moment. Just seeing her now makes me go a little crazy. I think about the banger threatening me this morning, Ampora putting my family in danger, Josh up to who knows what kind of trouble …
This is all her fault.
I set off across the field, ignoring Des and Julie as they call after me.
"Don't do this!" Des yells, hurrying to catch up.
I move a little faster. Not Wildling fast, which would give me away, but fast enough to leave him behind. Ampora watches me approach with the usual look of disdain in her eyes, but for once she doesn't make one of her snarky comments. One of the two girls leaning on the fence with her takes up the slack.
"Hey, pocha," she says. "You see a welcome sign anywhere around here?"
I can't remember her real name, but people call her Sushi or Shooshi or something equally stupid. I make a point of ignoring Ampora and all of her judgmental friends unless it absolu
tely can't be avoided. Then I take the high ground and try to be civil. Usually.
Not today.
"Shut it!" I yell at her.
Before she can respond I have Ampora by the front of her jacket and I bang her up against the fence. The chain-link shivers a long way in either direction from the force of the blow. It takes her by surprise, but her eyes widen more when she tries to break my grip and she can't budge me. Her friends on both sides of me are pulling at my arms, but they can't move me, either.
My face is right in Ampora's.
"How could you?" I shout. "How could you let whatever stupid crap you're into blow back on the girls?"
"Hey, you need to—"
"No." I give her a shake. "You need to make this right. Whatever it takes, you need to do it."
"Marina," Des says from beside me. I feel his hand on my shoulder. "This isn't the time or place."
He's right. I know he's right. But I just want to shake her until I've rattled some sense into her. And then I want to hit her. But I let her go.
She gives me a shove and I don't budge even an inch. She can't hide her renewed surprise, but it quickly morphs into a glare.
"There wouldn't even be a problem if it wasn't for your stupid boyfriend," she says.
"Josh isn't my boyfriend."
"Yeah, but you wish."
"You don't know anything about me."
She rolls her eyes. "Oh, please. Like you don't go all mushy-eyed at the mention of his name."
"I've got a boyfriend," I tell her, "and it isn't Josh."
I don't know why I said that. It's not like there's anything really happening with Theo.
"What do you call your vibrator?" Sushi or Shooshi or whatever the hell her name is taunts.
Ampora and I both turn and tell her to shut up at the same time. Then Ampora pokes me in the chest with a stiff finger.
"Just tell him to back off," she says. "I can handle this."
"Because so far you've really had it under control."
"Yeah, well, whatever he does is only going to make things worse." She cocks her head, then adds, "You know, I never saw the upside of the Kings coming after the family. If I'm lucky, maybe they'll at least get rid of you before I get them to back off."
I draw back my fist.
"Marina," Des says before I punch her, his voice low, but urgent.
I know why he's worrying. If I hit her too hard I could crush all the bones in her face. I wouldn't mind seeing how that turns out and that thought takes all the air out of me. How did I get to this point?
I give her a shove and she staggers back against the fence.
"Fix this," I tell her. "Whatever you did, fix it."
Then I turn away.
"Dude, that girl is a piece of work," Des says as we walk back across the field to the bleachers. "What's her beef with you anyway? Lots of people get divorced, but you don't see their kids blaming each other."
Josh and I have talked about this, but I've never really explained it to Des. I guess there are a lot of reasons for that, but mostly it's because Josh's parents split up, too.
"She's mad because I went with Mamá," I tell him.
"Yeah, so? She stayed with your dad and you're not pissed off with her, right?"
I shake my head.
"Then what gives with her?"
"Mamá's the one who left," I tell him. "She had an affair and Papá couldn't forgive her."
"Man, that's harsh. So your stepdad—was he the one your mom …?"
I shake my head. "No, it was another guy from the neighbourhood. It was pretty much a one-night stand, but that was enough to break them up. She met my stepdad a year or so after she moved out. I went with her because she was so messed up I was afraid she'd do something even more stupid."
"Like what?"
"Oh, I don't know, but why do you think she got so religious? She's trying to get at least God to forgive her. Ampora and Papá never will."
Julie meets us at the bottom of the bleachers.
"What was that all about?" she asks as we start to climb up to the top.
"Family crap," I tell her.
"Yeah, well you were fierce. I don't think I've ever seen you that pissed off."
I half expect Des to jump in, but he just listens as I give Julie a heavily edited rundown of what's been going on. She's never liked my sister and that's the only part she focuses on.
What do you know? Maybe Des is actually learning some discretion.
"Hey," he says, pointing to where we left Ampora and her friends. "What's going on over there?"
"Isn't that Mr. Goss?" Julie asks.
I nod. My heart sinks as I see the gym teacher walk Ampora back across the field.
Something's happened. I just know it. The Kings have hurt Suelo or Ria and the office has sent Mr. Goss to tell Ampora. I strain to use the otter's ears to hear what they're saying, but they're far away, and there's too much noise on the field for me to make it out.
When they get to the bottom of the bleachers Mr. Goss jabs a finger in my direction.
"You too, Lopez," he says.
I look at him in confusion. Me too, what?
"Get down here!" he calls up.
I exchange glances with Des and Julie. Julie touches my arm.
"Now!" Mr. Goss says.
Oh, God. It has to be the girls.
I think I'm going to throw up. But I get to my feet and make my reluctant way down the bleachers to where he's waiting for me with Ampora.
I'm not mad at her anymore.
I'm too filled with dread to be anything but numb.
Josh
Mom would kill me if she could see me riding on the back of Chaingang's Harley. She'd be even madder if she knew why we're heading into the barrio. She gets that I need to protect Marina's family. It's not something she likes, but she respects it.
I don't like it, either.
No, that's not entirely true. The mountain lion inside me is almost purring at the thought of getting the chance to take a few of those bangers down. But that's a last resort. What I really want is to negotiate a truce without anybody getting hurt.
Chaingang just laughs when I tell him that as we leave his gang's clubhouse and are cruising down Ocean Avenue.
"Why's that so funny?" I ask him.
With our Wildling hearing we have no problem understanding each other, even over the roar of the motorcycle and the wind in our ears.
"Because the Kings are all loco," he says. "There's no negotiating with them."
"Then why are you even taking me to this meeting?"
"They'll go after Marina and her family. I don't know why you're going, but I'm going to break some heads."
"You told your friend Aina that we were just going to talk, and you told me that you weren't coming as an Ocean Aver."
"I say a lot of things I don't mean."
"I need to try talking first," I tell him.
"Sure, bro. It's all your show until they make it into something else. Shouldn't take too long for that to happen."
So I've got a bad feeling about this as we finally pull off South Shore Drive into the dirt parking lot beside Casa Raphael. A half-dozen cars are parked in the lot. Most are the custom, pimped rides that the Kings prefer, but there's also a real beater of a pickup truck. Chaingang pulls in beside the pickup.
"Now that's a nice ride," he says.
He's looking at the pickup. The only thing that seems to be holding its rusted panels together is a thick coating of encrusted mud and dirt.
"You're kidding, right?" I say.
"Come on, bro. It's a classic fifties Ford. J-Dog would know the year."
I want to say, no, it's an old beat-up excuse of a truck that looks even worse than it is beside all these cool custom rides. Instead I just shrug and turn to look at the restaurant.
Casa Raphael doesn't try to get the tourist trade. It looks like a bunker: a long one-storey adobe building with a tar-and-gravel roof. There's some dead grass along the ver
ge between the building and the parking lots, with a pair of raggedy palms out front, facing South Shore. A few ratty agave plants and cacti complete the landscaping. The neon sign doesn't even have a name. It just reads "Taquería." A cracked wooden oval sign over the door says "Casa Raphael" in chalky, peeling turquoise paint.
"You sure you want to go through with this?" Chaingang asks.
I turn to look at him. "No. But I've got to do something."
"Be cool," he says. "We'll just play it by ear. I try not to over-think crap like this, myself."
I nod in agreement. What else am I going to do? Tell him, no, let's just get out of here? How's that going to help the Lopez family? But I can't shake the bad feeling I got when we first pulled into the parking lot.
Chaingang leads the way to the door. When we step inside, it's like one of those old Westerns. The place goes still and everybody turns to look at us. They're all Kings with their tattoos and hard faces, except for one old Mexican guy sitting by the window who looks to be a hundred years old. He's wearing faded jeans, cowboy boots and a checked flannel shirt, all of which set him apart even more from the bangers in their fancy running shoes, baggy T's and pants.
The decor's what you'd expect. Old Formica tables, battered wooden chairs. Nobody seems to be eating, except for the old guy, who's got a plate of enchiladas on the table in front of him. Everybody else is just waiting. Eight or nine of them are sitting around at various tables. The Wildling in me tells me there are two more behind us on either side of the door.
"Chico," Chaingang says to a guy sitting by himself in the middle of the long room.
He's got a shaved head covered in tats, which run down his neck and under his T-shirt until they emerge again in tattooed sleeves that cover both arms. Even the backs of his hands are tattooed. He gives us a big grin, showing off a gold-capped front tooth, but his dark eyes don't hold any humour.
"Chaingang Washington," Chico says. "Nice of you to come down to our part of town. Is this what you'd call slumming?"
"I'm just here for a conversation."
"You were supposed to come alone."
Chaingang jerks a thumb in my direction. "Josh here's the one who wants the conversation. I just came along to give him a lift."
"So he's not under your protection? He doesn't ride with you?"
"Josh doesn't need anybody's protection."