“I just want to talk to him,” she said. “I want him to tell us who he is.”
When the restaurant was all cleaned up and ready for the next day’s business, Rosalie grabbed a stuffed garbage bag by the kitchen door.
“I can get that,” Jay said, starting to get up from his chair.
But Rosalie waved him off. She took the bag out to the alley and dropped it into the Dumpster, lowering the lid carefully so that it wouldn’t clang when it closed. She started back, but a voice stopped her.
“Hey, homegirl.”
“Who . . . ?”
Then Rosalie saw her under the security light of the building across from the alley, lounging against the side of her old Buick four-door. Maria Sanchez. Once upon a time they’d been best friends. But then Maria got jumped in with the Kings to become one of their Presidio Queens. Her hair was in cornrows and she wore baggy black cargo pants and a tight white T under a brown hoodie. The only sign of her gang colors was the red-and-green handkerchief tied around her right wrist.
“Hey, Maria,” she said. “What’s up?”
Maria shrugged. “You know. This and that.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Heh. That still feels weird to me.”
“What does?” Rosalie asked.
“You asking me what I’m doing here. Time was, you’d want to know why I wasn’t hanging with you.”
“That was your choice, not mine.”
“Yeah, so you keep telling me. But other girls from our old crowd still hang with me and I don’t see them wearing any colors.”
“Maybe because the bandas didn’t kill their mother.”
“Bandas didn’t kill your mother,” Maria said. “Meth freaks did.”
Rosalie shrugged. What was the difference? One was as bad as the other, and her mother was still dead.
“Anyway,” Maria went on, “I just came by to give you a heads-up.”
“About what?”
“Your China Boy. Maybe Tío’s old ties can keep the Kings away from your family, but Cruz knows you lied to him and there’s always some wannabes hanging around who might get the idea that doing you some hurt would let them get in good with him.”
“Cruz is the guy with the crown tattooed on his forehead?”
Maria nodded.
Maybe she’d have to start bringing Oswaldo in to work for protection, Rosalie thought. Too bad Jay didn’t know kung fu.
“What do the Kings want with him?” Rosalie asked. “He’s just some kid from Chicago.”
“It’s not about the Kings,” Maria told her. “Word is Flores wants to see him.”
Rosalie felt a little sick. Amada Flores was everything that was wrong with the barrios. He was one of the Mexican drug lords who’d set up shop in Santo del Vado Viejo. Violence followed in his wake.
“But why?”
“Like I said, I don’t have a clue. But you know how it works. Flores isn’t going to give a shit about any agreement Tío has with the bandas. Somebody’s going to be collecting your homeboy, and I’m guessing probably sooner than later.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
Maria pushed away from her car.
“You turned your back on me,” she said. “I didn’t turn my back on you.”
She got into her car before Rosalie could respond. It started up with a coughing backfire. Rosalie watched its taillights until the Buick turned out of the alley, then stood there for a long time after it was gone. She knew she should tell Tío, but she also knew what his response would be: Jay would be out on the street before she could finish passing on Maria’s message.
Maybe it would be better that way, considering everything Anna had told her. She didn’t owe Jay anything. But she liked him. And then there was the fact that he was alone here.
Anna was right.
She was a soft touch.
So she’d tell Tío. But first she’d let Jay tell his side of the story.
It was a good plan—or at least it seemed that way until they all left the restaurant. As Paco said good-bye and wandered off down the alley heading for home, Rosalie saw a couple of girls standing across the alley under the security light where Maria’s Buick had been. The pair wore the red-and-green colors of the Kings openly. One of them made some signs with her hands, then the two of them laughed and disappeared into the darkness.
“What did she say?” Rosalie asked Tío. “I know those were gang signs.”
Tío’s face had gone dark with contained anger.
“She signed ‘Your ass is ours, bitch,’ ” he said. His gaze went to her. “Is there something going on that I should know about, Rosalita?”
“It’s not like you think.”
“I don’t know what to think,” Tío said. He looked from her to Anna and Jay. “Unless there’s more to the story about what happened on the patio this afternoon with you and Jay and the gangbangers.”
“There is,” Rosalie had to tell him, “but I didn’t know it then.”
“There is?” Jay said, clearly surprised.
Rosalie ignored him, keeping her attention on her uncle.
“But we shouldn’t talk about it here,” she said. “Let’s wait till we get home.”
Tío nodded. “But then you’ll tell me everything.”
“Everything I know.”
Normally they would have walked the few blocks home, but since Anna was here with her car, they all rode with her. The short trip passed in silence. When the dogs gathered around the gate to greet them, Rosalie could see what Anna had meant. There was no raucous barking, no jumping up for attention. The pack sat quietly, their focus on Jay as he got out of the car.
Tío hadn’t been part of Rosalie and Anna’s conversation back at the restaurant, but he couldn’t ignore the dogs’ uncharacteristic behavior. He stopped, his hand on the gate, his gaze tracking from the dogs to where Jay stood.
“What . . . ?” he began.
But Rosalie gave him a little push on the back. She’d been scanning the long dirt alley for any sign of the Kings. With the constant warring between the bandas, it wasn’t impossible that the four of them might suddenly become the target of a drive-by.
“I know it’s weird,” she said. “But let’s get inside.”
Tío nodded. He opened the gate and led the way into the adobe house. When they were in the living room, he waved them all to chairs. But once they were sitting, he continued to stand. He looked from Rosalie to Jay.
“Now who’s going to tell me what’s going on?” he asked.
His voice was mild, but they all caught his contained anger. Rosalie felt terrible. He’d worked so hard to build up the business and divorce himself from his bandas past. Now here she’d brought the danger right to them. Saying she hadn’t known didn’t make her feel any less guilty.
“I told you the truth about this afternoon,” she said. “Two of the Kings came looking for Jay while he was hiding in a tree above their heads. He says he doesn’t know why and I didn’t until I talked to Maria when I was taking out the garbage.”
“Maria Sanchez?” Anna asked. “I thought you two weren’t talking, not since she got jumped in by the Kings.”
“We haven’t been. But she was waiting for me in the alley. She said she came to warn me.”
“Do you even trust her? I mean, why would she do that?”
Rosalie sighed. “She said that just because I’d turned my back on her, it didn’t mean that she’d turned hers on me.”
“What did she tell you?” Tío asked.
“That it’s not just the Kings looking for Jay—it’s all the bandas. Apparently Flores wants to see him.”
Anna gasped. Tío sat down on a chair across from where the three of them sat in a row on couch. His shoulders slumped.
“Who’s this Flores?” Jay asked.
“Amada Flores.” Rosalie told him. “Styles himself as a local businessman. He owns a pool hall on Presidio. But the truth is he’s one of the Mexican drug lords
who use Santo del Vado Viejo as their base of operations on this side of the border. They call him ‘El Tigre.’”
She watched Jay’s eyes widen, then he gave a slow nod.
“Of course, they would,” he said.
“So you do know something!”
“I don’t know anything,” Jay said. “But there’s a longstanding hostility between dragons and tigers.”
“I don’t understand,” Rosalie said.
“It means he is in a gang,” Anna said. “He’s got that big dragon tattoo on his back.”
Tío leaned forward. “Maybe you should tell us what you do know.”
Jay could only shake his head. “If I knew anything useful, believe me I would.”
“Well, it seems to me,” Tío said, “that you have two choices here. You can walk away, and we can only hope the trouble will follow you. Or you can tell us what you do know. Maybe we can help.”
“You wouldn’t believe me.”
“Try us,” Rosalie said.
Jay gave another slow nod.
“Paupau—my grandmother,” he added for Tío’s and Anna’s sake. “She says the root of the hostility between dragons and tigers is because they’re on opposite sides of the zodiac.”
The other three looked at him with blank bewilderment.
“Maybe you should go back to the beginning,” Tío said.
Rosalie and Anna nodded in agreement.
“The beginning,” Jay repeated. “The beginning of dragons, or how I found out that I was one?”
There was a long moment of silence, then Tío cleared his throat.
“Start with your own story,” he said.
Jay nodded. He looked up at the ceiling, unable, Rosalie thought, or unwilling to meet their gazes.
“There are five tribes of dragons,” he finally said. “I was born to the yellow.”
“So the Chinese gangs don’t have an initiation?” Anna asked. “You’re born into a gang?”
“They’re not gangs,” Jay said.
“But—”
“Let him tell it his own way,” Tío said.
Anna nodded. “Sure, it’s just . . . never mind.” She made a motion like she was zipping her mouth shut. “I’m listening.”
“The four other dragon tribes,” Jay went on, “are each connected to one of the four directions—east, west, north, and south—but the yellow dragons are solitary. Our place is in the center. In the old days, we protected the emperor, but there is no emperor anymore, so now we have to choose a place or a people to look after. If the spirits of our ancestors approve of our choice, and we prove worthy, we’re given the full mantle of our tribe, not simply an image on our skin.”
Anna looked as if she wanted to say something, but when Jay paused, she pretended to zip her mouth again and shook her head.
Jay stood up. He pulled off his shirt and let them look for a long moment before he put it back on. Instead of returning to the couch where Rosalie and Anna were sitting, he stood by the cold hearth so that he could face them all.
“It’s not a tattoo,” he said. “It appeared on my skin when I was eleven years old, marking me as one who’s supposed to take on the responsibilities of the yellow dragon’s heritage. This is something that passes down through families, but not everyone is chosen.”
Anna couldn’t contain herself. “Appeared?” she said. “It just appeared?”
“It wasn’t a painless process,” Jay said. “It took a whole day, but yes, it just appeared.”
Rosalie glanced at Anna, then returned her attention to Jay. She tried to school her features, but she was sure that her face showed the same disbelief as the others’.
“What do you mean by the full mantle of your tribe?” she asked.
Jay gave her an embarrassed look. “We become dragons.”
“You mean it’s like getting jumped in by a gang? I know—it’s not a gang. But basically you get to call yourself a dragon then, right?”
Jay shook his head. “No, we become dragons.”
“What, literally?”
“Oh, come on,” Anna said. “That’s—”
“Impossible,” Jay agreed. “Don’t you think I know how it sounds? But my grandmother Paupau is always talking about the shape-shifters that live unknown among us—animal people who walk around in human skins. Some are here to help mankind, others are monsters. I’ve never seen one myself, but you should see the way people act around her. Even the tongs give her respect. She’s supposed to be a dragon and my guide.”
“So we’re supposed to believe you can turn into a dragon?” Anna said.
Jay shook his head. “So far as I know, I can’t. You wanted to know what I know. Well, this is what I know. Or it’s what I’ve been told.”
“But if you prove yourself worthy you become a dragon?”
“I guess. I don’t know.”
“And Flores is actually a tiger?”
“Look, I know what it sounds like. I can’t explain the things that Paupau’s told me over the years. All I know for sure is that the dragon image just appeared on my back when I was eleven, but everything else? That there are monsters and secret animal people living among us? That I’ve got this duty to find a people in need and protect them? It sounds just as crazy to me. When I’m with my grandmother, it all seems to make sense. But as I stand here trying to explain this to you guys . . .”
He tried again. “I got a fever. I thought I had the flu. But it hurt so much, and then I woke up with that thing on my back, and Paupau started training me to be ready to accept the responsibilities of my heritage. But I’ve never seen a dragon, except when I look in the mirror at my back. I’ve never seen Paupau’s image and I’ve sure never seen her turn into a dragon.”
There was an uncomfortable silence.
“The dragon really just appeared on your back?” Rosalie finally asked.
Jay gave a weary nod. He didn’t look like a crazy person. He just looked like a kid, as confused as they were.
“Yeah,” he said. “It really did.”
Rosalie took a breath. She knew what Anna and Tío would think, but she had to play the devil’s advocate.
“So then,” she said, “couldn’t the other stuff maybe be true, too?”
“Jesus!” Anna broke in before Jay could answer. “Would you get real?”
Rosalie gave her a shove, but Anna ignored her.
“So,” Anna asked Jay, “do you have any other superpowers besides being able to make tattoos just appear out of thin air? And by the way, I’d really like a rose, here on my ankle.”
She stretched a leg out in front of him.
“I don’t have any superpowers!”
“Okay, okay.”
Another uncomfortable silence fell. Rosalie wished Tío would say something, but he seemed far away, deep in thought.
“Where did you learn to speak Spanish?” she asked, just to talk about something normal for a moment. “Because your accent makes you sound like you grew up around here.”
Jay gave her a surprised look. “I don’t speak Spanish.”
Tío and the girls exchanged puzzled looks.
“” Tío said, switching to Spanish. “”
“” Jay told him, “”
His voice trailed off and he put a hand to his mouth, his eyes widening in surprise.
“Jesus,” he said softly. “What’s happening to me?”
Tío got up. Crossing to where Jay stood, he laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“It’s okay,” he said. “You didn’t remember you could speak Spanish, but some part of you did, and it just kicked in automatically.”
“I guess . . .”
He squeezed Jay’s shoulder, then steered him back to a chair.
“I can’t explain the tattoo,” Tío said, “But as for these other things that your grandmother told you . . . I mean no insult by t
his, Jay, but you could have been brainwashed. It’s what happens here with the bandas. The young men and women are taught the lies of gang life by our culture and from seeing the gangbangers every day on the street and in their schools. They have money and girls and cars. They party and everyone walks carefully around them. What child—unsure of his future, perhaps unhappy in his home—would not yearn for that kind of acceptance?
“I know this because I was one of the boys brainwashed by the music and what I saw on the street—the high life that the gangbangers seemed to live.
“But what you don’t see until it’s too late is the reality of the violence. The beatings and killings. How, even in this so-called family, there are the haves and the have-nots. You do what the lieutenants tell you, or you will suffer. You’ll steal for them. You’ll fight your rivals and kill them if need be. You’ll do jail time and find that the gangs are even stronger inside than they are out on the street.
“But you will do what you’re told, because if you don’t, the next victim will be you. You will be the boy found dead in some gully, or shot down in a drive-by.”
Rosalie shivered. Tío rarely talked so personally about the bandas. She knew he’d been a gangbanger. She knew he’d been to jail. But now it seemed to have been only yesterday, not years ago. Her heart went out to him.
“But why?” Jay said. “Why would Paupau fill my head with lies?”
“I can’t answer that. Only she can.”
Jay gave a slow nod. He lifted his head and met Tío’s gaze.
“It would be easier to believe that,” he said. “Horrible, but easier, because it would mean that the world could make sense again and I wouldn’t be a freak. But what if they’re not lies? Neither she nor my family has anything to gain by putting a huge tattoo on my back and then filling my head with weird stories and training me for six years.”
“As I said,” Tío told him, “I don’t have the answer for that.”
“I know one way to find out,” Jay said. “I can go see the tiger and find out what he wants with me.”
“No!” both Rosalie and her uncle said at the same time.
“You can’t simply have a conversation with a man such as El Tigre,” Tío went on. “He has no moral compass. He could kill you with less thought than we would have before stepping on a bug.”