ONE SMALL VICTORY (10 page)

What would Ms. Kotcher say if he asked her
that question at their next session? A bit bizarre, but that’s how
he felt and he couldn’t stem his feelings. Sure, his mother had
stayed home one night after their last big fight. And as much as he
wanted to dis her for just going through the motions to placate
him, it had felt good to just chill out, the three of them watching
a movie and eating every snack in the house. He’d even let his
guard down long enough to hope that maybe she’d stay home the next
night too. Ha. What a sap you are.

The clatter of footsteps on the metal
bleachers drew his attention and he turned to see Caitlin hurrying
toward him. She wore a light, quilted jacket and clutched an armful
of books to her chest. Just seeing her wide smile lifted the
blanket of gloom. He could’ve sworn the sun even brightened.

“Guess what?” She plopped down beside him. “I
got the coolest dress for Homecoming. Mom and I went to the mall in
Frisco last night. Lord and Taylor was having this awesome sale. So
I got like this two-hundred dollar dress for half that.”

Scott smiled at her excitement, but the
reminder of Homecoming made him wonder if his mother would remember
to make the flower thing he was supposed to give to Caitlin. She’d
said she would. She’d even seemed pleased that Scott had a date,
but that was before the fight; before he’d gotten this feeling that
he couldn’t count on his mother anymore.

“What’s wrong?”

The question startled him. He hadn’t realized
he’d gone into the black hole again.

“Sorry.” He reached out to run his fingers
through the strands of her hair that lay like an auburn shawl
across her shoulders. “So is this dress sexy?”

She ducked her head, but not before he saw a
new touch of red on her cheeks. “Wait and see.”

He pulled her close, and she seemed content
to lean against his shoulder in silence. There were times they
didn’t talk much. Partly because he didn’t know what to say, and he
was sure she felt the same way. It was like some incredible
awkwardness seized them both, but he also kept silent because he
couldn’t imagine saying some of the things that went through his
mind. She’d dump him for sure.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The moon scuttled behind a bank of clouds,
and Jenny hoped the rain would hold off until she got home again.
It wouldn’t do to catch pneumonia in the middle of her super-hero
act. She could see Chico leaning against the side of Whipple’s
Laundromat, long ago boarded up and left to deteriorate along with
this whole section on the outskirts of downtown. Small-town
slums.

He’d taken to meeting with her here since
she’d increased the amounts she bought. Maybe the Dairy Queen
parking lot was too open for the big buys. He’d also given her a
card with a cell phone number and his name. She hoped that meant he
trusted her enough for the next step in the game.

Drawing closer, she noted that he was alone.
That was odd. She’d never seen him without his shadow before. She
knew that boy’s name, too, Leon. Was he waiting in a darkened
doorway down the street? Was she walking into what fiction writers
referred to as “a drug-bust gone bad?”

“Yo, Mamma. Wassup?” A smile flashed white
against the amber tones of Chico’s face.

She controlled a shudder of panic and
returned his smile the best she could. “Where’s your friend?”

“Takin’ care of some bidness.”

Jenny didn’t want to even consider what that
bidness might be. Certainly nothing as innocent as picking up a few
groceries at Tom Thumb or paying the electric bill.

“I got a little business of my own needs
taken care of.” She handed him a ten-dollar bill, making sure he
saw her hands shaking.

“Make it look good,” Steve had said. “You’ve
got to convince him that you’re up against it.”

Tonight, she didn’t even have to pretend to
be nervous. She was never going to get used to doing this.

Chico slipped her the baggie, and she stuffed
it in her jacket pocket. Now is the time. Ask him. And remember to
sound desperate.

Remembering what that boy had looked like a
few weeks ago, Jenny mimicked his fly on speed movements and looked
up.

“Money’s getting a little tight, Chico.”
Jenny paused, glad that a sudden case of jitters put a tremor in
her voice, adding authenticity to the improv. “Maybe I could move a
little stuff for you. Help pay my way.”

He regarded her with cold, untelling eyes.
“We’re good here.”

The line in the sand was clear, but maybe it
wasn’t too deep to cross over.

“I know some folks in Dallas. They said
they’d like to do business with a friend.” Jenny held his gaze,
hoping the lie rang true. “Don’t push,” Steve had warned. “Just let
the request lay there.”

So she did.

Chico fished a toothpick out of the breast
pocket of his leather jacket and stuck it in the corner of his
mouth. “It ain’t like buying a fuckin’ franchise, lady.”

Jenny hesitated for just a fraction of a
second, then realized she shouldn’t back down. Steve hadn’t told
her what to do if Chico was resistant, but some instinct told her
he wouldn’t expect her to meekly accept his first response.

“You know what, Chico. I’m trying to be nice
here. Not cut you out of the picture. But you keep treating me like
I’m stupid, I’ll have to try someone else.”

She turned her head slightly, hoping he’s say
something before it became imperative that she actually leave.

Chico took what seemed like forever to
respond as he played the toothpick back and forth in his mouth.
Finally he tucked it in one corner. “I gotta talk to my man about
it.”

“Sure. I understand. I’ll—” She clamped her
lips over the torrent of words that rode her relief that he hadn’t
said no.

“I’ll get back to you.”

Jenny nodded, then turned and walked the
three blocks to where she’d parked her car. It felt a little
strange to be happy that she was now going to be a drug dealer. But
it means you’re one step closer to ending this whole mess.

That thought buoyed her spirits as she got in
the car and headed for home. Maybe she’d get lucky on two counts
and catch Scott before he shut himself in his room for the
night.

~*~

The living room was dark when Jenny walked
in. Damn! She went down the hall and stopped by Scott’s room where
the latest offering from One-Inch Nails blasted from behind his
closed door. The bass rumbled the floorboards under her feet. She
tested the doorknob. Locked. She debated the wisdom of knocking.
Not a good idea. Even if he could hear her over the squeal of
guitars being tormented, interrupting would not be a good idea.
Even in the best of circumstances Scott did not like to be
disturbed, and this could hardly be considered the best of
circumstances.

The only positive thing Jenny had seen
recently was that his grades were improving, but their relationship
was in the toilet. Homecoming had bordered on disaster. No, he did
not want to start the evening by bringing Caitlin over for dinner
first. And did she absolutely have take pictures? He could give her
one that the photographer took at the dance.

He’d finally agreed to a half-hour at home to
indulge his mother’s need for pictures, but his mood that night was
dark. Jenny saw a frown of concern cross Caitlin’s face, but Scott
had hustled her out before she could voice that concern.

Since then, he’d shown the good grace to
acknowledge Jenny’s gift of the Mum for Homecoming, but otherwise
had barely spoken to her during the past week. He didn’t need
words, however, to make his point. His resentment came across loud
and clear. Despite the icy silences, there was no way she could
miss how much he hated being left with Alicia so often.

Jenny tried to limit her demands to two or
three nights a week, but that consideration failed to register with
Scott. And in her heart of hearts, she knew it was about more than
having to watch his sister. He just hid his real feelings under his
surly attitude. She’d learned to recognize that when Michael was
fifteen and fought that same tension between the independent man
who was emerging and the child who was afraid to let go of the
security of dependence. Yet who could blame them. It was easier to
let someone else tell you what you could do and what you
shouldn’t.

Jenny could feel the pull of that same
desire. If her mother knew what was going on, she’d tell Jenny to
quit this very instant, and being a dutiful daughter, she’d have to
obey Mom, right?

Stepping away from Scott’s door, she walked
further down the hall. Alicia’s room was accessible and Jenny
slipped in, thankful that the years with two teenage brothers had
given her daughter the ability to sleep deeply in spite of
thunderous music or the clomping of heavy footsteps in the
hall.

A shaft of moonlight shone through the slats
of the blinds, casting zebra-like stripes across the bed. Alicia
lay in a tangle of blankets and stuffed animals, and Jenny watched
the light play on her daughter’s face. Two things consciously
registered; how serene Alicia looked and the realization that the
threat of rain must have moved off.

On another level, there was a subtle
emotional shift that Jenny was barely conscious of until resolve
replaced doubt. One of the reports she’d read during her crash
course in drug dealing indicated that consumers were getting
younger and younger. How soon before the sales pitch was given to
Alicia and her friends?

Jenny was willing to do whatever it took to
ward off that threat to safety and sanity.

~*~

Chico pulled off Highway 720 into the gravel
drive. It led to the house that sat on a bluff a good half-mile
from the road. Hell it wasn’t a house. It was a mansion. Chico
couldn’t wait until he could afford something worth even a fraction
of what this place cost. He could have a family. Retire from the
business. Be respectable. Maybe even join the church. With little
tsks of admonition his mother continually warned him about the
consequence of abandoning the faith. “You do not want to burn in
the fires of damnation.”

A chuckle erupted. Hell? Sometime he felt
like he was already there. The Boss was crazy and was getting
crazier by the day. Frank had speculated that the Boss was dipping
into the goods, but Chico figured the crazy came from another kind
of dipping. He’d seen his uncle go loco after too many trips to
town to visit certain senoritas at the tavern. The place had not
been a fine example of good sanitation, and God knows what else the
girls had shared besides lice. The Cuban was known to run pretty
hot with the ladies and hadn’t always been rich enough to afford
the quality he bought now.

Whatever the reason, the Boss’s unpredictable
behavior had everyone on edge. Chico would rather have dealt with
the woman without running it by him, but Frank didn’t want to make
an independent decision. When he thought about it, Chico couldn’t
blame Frank. People had died for independent thinking.

Pulling his little black Kia behind the
classic Rolls White Cloud, Chico stilled the engine. Maybe in his
future life he could afford decent wheels, too.

Before he’d had a chance to step out of the
car, two men appeared on the wide wrap-around porch that had
pillars supporting an upper balcony. The men wore dark suits, shoes
shined to a blinding luster, and Ray-Ban shades. Despite the
wardrobe nod to respectability, there was nothing respectable about
these two. Chico was well acquainted with their Havana reputation,
which boiled down to “don’t fuck with us.”

He didn’t even bother to greet them as they
flanked him up the steps and across the porch to the door. The
courtesy would have been wasted. Instead, he followed them silently
as they opened the double, sculpted wood doors.

Inside, they continued to guide him through
the large entry where their leather heels clicked across the
Terrazzo floor in a staccato rhythm. Original Picasso’s and Monet’s
graced the walls with the same abundance that some people hang
posters. The men paused at the doorway to a room that opened on the
left and motioned for Chico to enter.

Even though he’d seen it before, the sheer
magnitude and opulence of the room still filled him with amazement.
His family home in Mexico could have fit in there with space left
over. Windows filled one entire wall with lace curtains that swayed
in a light breeze. Ornate vases and sculptures sat on pedestals
placed precisely around the room like museum displays.

A large teak table dominated the center of a
Persian rug that seemed to stretch for miles. The table was empty.
The Boss sat at a smaller table in front of a wall of bookcases. He
appeared to be contemplating a move on a marble chess set. Lazano,
a rotund man in his early thirties, occupied the chair on the other
side. Chico remembered meeting the man once before. He was on the
same level as Frank and ran the Denton area. It was also rumored
that Lazano thought a shared heritage gave him an advantage with
the Boss and guaranteed his swift ascent up the corporate
ladder.

Solly, who filled a role Chico had never
quite been able to put a name to, stood to one side of the table.
Hands clasped behind his back, Solly balanced his large frame with
his feet slightly apart, his pale, almost Albino-white face
impassive. But Chico knew the man was anything but impassive. The
bulk inside the finely tailored suit was not fat and the ice-blue
eyes missed nothing. Anybody who made the wrong move toward the
Cuban might never move again.

Chico kept that in mind as he took a few
steps forward. “You wanted to see me, Boss.”

The man didn’t take his eyes from the board.
“First I take this guy out. Then we talk.”

Solly gave the other muscle the briefest of
nods, and they retreated to the doorway where they assumed
statue-like stances. Chico stayed where he was and watched the men
at the table. The Boss moved his knight and flashed a triumphant
smile at his opponent. “Check.”