Perfect Chemistry 1 (33 page)

"I know. And it feels so good." I grab my purse. It's all I have,

unless you include the clothes on my back. I put on a huge smile and

hold my hand out to Paco. "Ready to go?"

He doesn't miss a beat as he takes my hand. "Yep." When we're in

his car he says, "You are one tough chick. I never thought you had the

fight in you." Paco drives me to the darkest part of Fairfield. He leads

me to a large warehouse on a secluded back road. As if Mother Nature

is sending us a warning, menacing dark clouds fill the sky and a chill fills

the air.

A burly guy stops us. "Who's the snow girl?" he asks.

Paco says, "She's clean."

The guy eyes me up and down suggestively before opening the door.

"She starts sniffin' around and it'll be on your head, Paco," he warns.

All I want to do is take Alex away from here, away from what feels

like danger all around. "Hey," a gravelly voice from beside me calls out.

"If you want something to pick you up, come to me, si?"

"Follow me," Paco says, grabbing my arm and pulling me straight

ahead through a corridor. Voices come from the opposite side of the

warehouse . . . Alex's voice.

"Let me go to him myself," I say.

"That's not such a hot idea. Wait until Hector's done talkin' to

him," Paco says, but I don't listen.

I walk toward Alex's voice. He's talking with two other guys.

They're obviously having a serious conversation.

One of the guys pulls out a sheet of paper and hands it to Alex.

That's when Alex notices me.

Alex says something to the guy in Spanish before folding the paper

and shoving it into his jeans pocket. His voice is hard and tough, like his

expression right now. "What the hell are you doin' here?" he asks me.

"I just--"

I can't finish my sentence because Alex grabs hold of my upper

arm. "You just are leavin' here this instant. Who the fuck brought you

here?"

I'm trying to think of a response when Paco appears out of the

darkness.

"Alex, please. Paco might have brought me here, but it was my

idea."

"You culero," Alex says, letting go of me while facing Paco.

"Isn't this your future, Alex?" Paco asks. "Why are you ashamed to

show your novia your home away from home?"

Alex throws a punch, connecting with Paco's jaw. Paco goes down. I

run to him, then give Alex a sharp, warning look. "I can't believe you

did that!" I scream. "He's your best friend, Alex."

"I don't want you seein' this place!" A trickle of blood streams

down Paco's mouth. "You shouldn't have brought her," Alex says, calmly

this time. "She doesn't belong here."

"Neither do you, bro," Paco says quietly. "Now take her away. She's

seen enough."

"Come with me," Alex orders, holding out his hand.

Instead of coming to him, I cup Paco's face with my hands and

inspect the damage. "My God, you're bleeding," I say, starting to freak

out. Blood is enough to make me sick. Blood and violence always push me

over the edge.

Paco gently pushes my hand away. "I'll be fine. Go with him."

A voice booms from the darkness, speaking Spanish to Alex and

Paco.

I shiver at the authority in the guy's voice. I wasn't scared before,

but I definitely am now. The guy had been talking to Alex earlier. He's

dressed in a dark suit with a stark white dress shirt underneath. I saw

him briefly at the wedding. His jet black hair is slicked back and his

complexion is dark. One look and I know this is someone very powerful

in the Latino Blood. Two large, mean-looking guys stand on either side

of him.

"Nada, Hector," Alex and Paco say in unison.

"Take her somewhere else, Fuentes."

Alex takes my hand and hurries me out of the warehouse. When

we're finally outside, I exhale deeply.

FORTY-EIGHT : Alex

"Let's get out of here. You and me, mi amor. !Vamos!"

I breathe a sigh of relief as I straddle Julio and Brittany hops on

behind me. She wraps her arms around my waist, holding on tight as I

speed out of the parking lot.

We fly through the streets; which eventually become a blur. I

don't even stop when rain starts pouring down.

"Can we stop now?" she yells through the deafening storm.

I park under an old abandoned bridge by the lake. Heavy rain

pounds the cement surrounding us, but we have our own secluded place.

Brittany hops to the ground. "You're a stupid jerk," she says. "You

can't deal drugs. It's dangerous and stupid, and you promised me.

You'll risk going to jail. Jail, Alex. You may not care, but I do. I won't

let you ruin your life."

"What do you want to hear?"

"Nothing. Everything. Say something so I don't stand here feeling

like a complete idiot."

"The truth is . . . Brittany, look at me."

"I can't," she says as she stares at the pouring rain. "I'm so tired

of thinking of every scary scenario."

I pull her against me. "Don't think, muneca. Everything will work

itself out."

"But--"

"No buts. Trust me." My mouth closes over hers. The smell of rain

and cookies eases my nerves.

My hand braces the small of her back. Her hands grip my soaked

shoulders, urging me on. My hands slide under her shirt, and my fingers

trace her belly button.

"Come to me," I say, then lift her until she's straddling me over my

bike.

I can't stop kissing her. I whisper how good she feels to me, mixing

Spanish and English with every sentence. I move my lips down her neck

and linger there until she leans back and lets me take her shirt off. I

can make her forget about the bad stuff. When we're together like

this, hell, I can't think of anything else but her.

"I'm losing control," she admits, biting her lower lip. I love those

lips.

"Mamacita, I've already lost it," I say, grinding against her so she

knows exactly how much control I've lost.

She moves her hips in a slow rhythm against me, an invitation I

don't deserve. My fingertips graze her mouth.

She kisses them before I slowly slide my hand down her chin to her

neck and in between her breasts.

She catches my hand. "I don't want to stop, Alex."

I cover her body with mine.

I can easily take her. Hell, she's asking for it. But God help me if I

don't grow a conscience.

It's that loco bet I made with Lucky. And what my mom said about

how easy it is to get a girl pregnant.

When I made the bet, I had no feelings for this complex white girl.

But now . . . shit, I don't want to think about my feelings. I hate

feelings; they're only good for screwing up someone's life. And may

God strike me down right now because I want to make love to Brittany,

not fuck her on my motorcycle like some cheap whore.

I move my hands away from her cuerpo perfecto, the first sane

thing I've done tonight. "I can't take you like this. Not here," I say, my

voice hoarse from emotion overload. This girl was going to gift me with

her body, even though she knows who I am and what I'm about to do.

The reality is hard to swallow.

I expect her to be embarrassed, maybe even mad. But she curls

into my chest and hugs me. ‘Don't do this to me,’ I want to say. Instead

I wrap my arms around her and hold on tight.

"I love you," I hear her say so softly it might have been her

thoughts.

Don't, I'm tempted to say. ;No! ;No!

My gut twists and I hold her tighter. Dios mio, if things were

different I'd never give her up. I burrow my face in her hair and

fantasize about stealing her away from Fairfield.

We stay that way for a long time, long after the rain stops and

reality sets in. I help her off the motorcycle so she can put her shirt

back on.

Brittany looks up at me, a hopeful look on her face. "Are you going

to do this drug deal?"

I get off Julio and walk over to the end of the tunnel. Sticking my

hand in the water still dripping down the sides, I let the cold water fall

through my fingers.

"I've got to," I say, my back to her.

She steps beside me. "Why? Why do you have to do something that

might end up with you in jail?"

I put her soft, pale cheek in my palm and give her a wistful smile.

"Didn't you know gang members deal drugs? It's part of the job."

"So quit. Surely there's some way. . . ."

"You want to quit, they give you a challenge. Sometimes it's

torture, sometimes a beating. If you live, you get out. Let me tell you,

preciosa, only once have I seen anyone come out of a challenge alive.

The guy still wishes he was dead, he got beat up so bad. God, you'll

never understand, my family needs this."

"For the money?"

My hand leaves her. "No, not for the money." I throw my head back

and wince in frustration. "Can we please change the subject?"

"I'm against you doing anything illegal."

"Querida, you need a saint. Or at least a minister. And I'm neither

of those."

"Aren't I important to you?"

"Yes."

"Then prove it to me."

I pull my bandanna off my head, then rake my fingers through my

hair. "Do you know how hard it's been for me? Mi madre expects me to

protect the family by being in the Blood but is in total denial, Hector

wants me to prove I'm dedicated to the Blood, and you . . the one

person who I feel like I can start a life with someday, you want me to

prove I love you by doin' somethin' that could put my family in danger.

I have to do this, you know. And nobody, not even you, is gonna change

my mind. Oluidalo."

"You'll risk what we have?"

"Dammit, don't do this. We don't have to risk anythin'."

"If you start dealing drugs, it's over. I've jeopardized everything

for you . . for us. My friends. My parents. Everything. Can't you do the

same?"

I toss my jacket to her when her teeth start chattering. "Here.

Put this on."

And that's it. This is my life. If she can't handle it, she can go

back to Colin Adams. Or whoever she can mold into her own Ken doll.

She tells me to take her to her friend Sierra's house. "I think we

should work separately on the chemistry project," Brittany says. She

hands me back my jacket when we reach the big house on the beach.

"Do you want to put the hand warmers together or would you rather

write the paper?"

"Whatever you want."

"Well, I'm a pretty good writer. . . ."

"Fine. I'll do the rest."

"Alex, it doesn't have to end like this."

I watch as tears well in her eyes. I've got to get out of here

before they start falling down her face. That will definitely be my

undoing.

"Yeah, it does," I say, then drive off.

FORTY-NINE : Brittany

After I used two boxes of tissues, Sierra gave up on trying to

cheer me up and let me cry myself to sleep. In the morning, I beg her

to keep her curtains closed and shades down. There's nothing wrong

with staying in bed all day, is there?

"Thanks for not saying I told you so," I say as I scan her closet for

something to wear after she forces me to get up.

She's standing by her dresser, putting on makeup. "I'm not saying

it, but I sure am thinking it."

"Thanks," I say dryly.

Sierra pulls a pair of jeans and a long-sleeve shirt out of her closet.

"Here, wear these. You won't look half as good in my clothes as you do

in yours, but you'll still look better than any girl at Fairfield."

"Don't say that."

"Why? It's true."

"No, it's not. My top lip is too fat."

"Guys think it's sexy. Movie stars pay big bucks for big lips."

"My nose is crooked."

"Only from a certain angle."

"My boobs are lopsided."

"They're big, Brit. Guys are obsessed with big boobs. They could

care less if they're lopsided." She pulls me in front of the mirror.

"Face it, you're model-gorgeous. Okay, so your eyes are bloodshot and

you've got bags from crying all night. But all in all, you've got it goin'

on. Look in the mirror, Brit, and say out loud I'm the bomb."

"No."

"Come on. It'll make you feel better. Look right in the mirror and

yell my boobs rock!"

"Nuh-uh."

"Can you at least admit you've got good hair?"

I look at Sierra. " You talk to yourself in front of a mirror?

"I do. Wanna see?" She pushes me aside and moves up close to the

mirror. "Not half-bad, Sierra," she tells herself. "Doug is one lucky

guy." She turns to me. "See, it's easy."

Instead of laughing, I start to cry.

"Ami that ugly?"

I shake my head.

"Is it because I don't have clothes with bling? I know your mom

kicked you out, but do you think she'll let us go over and raid your

closet? I don't know how long you'll be able to stand wearing my size-

eight clothes on your size-four body."

My mom didn't call here last night looking for me. I kind of

expected her to, but then again she rarely meets my expectations. And

my dad . . . well, he probably doesn't know I didn't sleep at home. They

can keep my clothes. I'll probably sneak in during the day to check up

on Shelley, though.

"You want my advice?" Sierra asks.

I look at her warily. "I don't know. You hated the idea of Alex and