Untamed Hearts 1: The Viper (31 page)

He had more business than he knew what to do with.

“Okay, now I’m scared,” Chuito said when Marcos didn’t speak.

“Ballers get scared?”

“All the fucking time.”

Marcos nodded and swallowed against the lump in his throat.

“Thank you,” Marcos whispered as he turned back at the door, knowing Katie was on the other side. “That’s what I have to say to you.”

“It was your Tía Sofia’s idea,” Chuito said dismissively. “When she heard Katie wanted to move there, she—”

“I said
gracias
, motherfucker,” Marcos barked in English, because he knew Chuito didn’t know how to accept the gratitude any more than he did. “Say, ‘
de nada
.’”

Chuito was a quiet for a long time before he said, “De nada.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Chuito was silent for another few heartbeats before he asked, “Were you surprised?”

“Dios mio, yes.” Marcos laughed when the tension dispelled. “I dropped your mother’s eggs.”

“Never a good idea.” Chuito laughed with him. “How’s Katie handling my mother?”

“Fine,” Marcos assured him. “I think they’ll be fine. We’ll
all
be fine.”

“Three of the craziest people I know in one house. I am very scared about it.”

“Speaking of that,” Marcos said as he turned back to look at the door again. “I keep thinking about her going to school, teaching class with a name like Katie Foster. They’ll run all over her. I had this crazy idea—”

Chuito groaned. “Any sentence you start with that is sure to give me a headache.”

Epilogue

Miami

First Day of School

Katie stood at the front of the class as she watched the students file in, slow at first, but then more concentrated. She had a superstition that if her homeroom class was good, then it was a sign of what to expect for the rest of the year.

She saw more than one of them stop at the door when they got to her class and look at their schedules again, but they didn’t say anything as they found their seats. The ones in the middle filled up first, leaving the back row empty and the ones closest to her desk vacant as well.

Kids were kids no matter who they were. It was hard to be in the first row. It was hard to be in the back too. Coasting down the middle was what most people did in life. Two girls sat in the first row in the corner. They talked to each other, but they had their notebooks out.

Katie was quiet on purpose, taking these first few moments to study them. Then, just as the second bell rang, four boys came to the door; the first one stopped and looked at his schedule, making the others run into the back of him.

He turned around and shoved his friend. Katie saw the flash of ink on his arm. She saw the way they were forced to hold themselves, supermacho, always guarded.

Angry.

“Is there a problem?” Katie asked as she eyed them. “I believe that was the bell we all just heard.”

The first boy glanced at his schedule again and then snorted in disbelief. “Vete pa’l carajo.”

He said it casually, expecting her not to understand. His friends all laughed as they walked past him, lifting their eyebrows as they eyed her. Over half the class also stared, wide-eyed, waiting to see what she would do.

“Oh, fantastic.” She smiled broadly, because she really was pleased. “And here I thought I was going to have to clean the classroom after school all by myself. You three can help him since you think it’s so funny. Detention for all four of you.”

“¿Que?” he snapped at her. “But—”

“Yes, Mister—” She paused, looking at him, waiting for his name.

“Perez,” he said with a defiant air.

“Yes, Mr. Perez, I know what that means.” She gestured to the seats in the front. “Please sit. We saved these for you.”

His friends shoved him as they sat down, but he just stood there silently in challenge. “No way. That’s not fair.”

“This is not a democracy. This is
my
classroom, and there are rules,” Katie assured him. “Number one is no swearing. We’re polite to each other in here. Now sit down.”

He turned around, looking to his friends, who had chosen to spread out, one sitting by the girls, the other two sitting closest to the door. Then he narrowed his eyes and turned around and sat directly in the middle.

Right in front of her desk.

He stretched out in the seat like he owned it, and all the while his dark eyes were narrowed at her threateningly. She walked back to her desk and smiled at the rest of the class.

“Good morning, I’m—”

The door burst open, and she was expecting another angry teenager. Instead she got a much bigger, much bolder version. With his shades resting on the brim of his Miami Heat hat, he wore jeans and a short-sleeve T-shirt that showed off all the ink on his arms.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed at Marcos.

“You forgot this, cariño.” He held up a small cooler bag. “Tía Sofia packed it for you. We didn’t want you to starve.”

“I could’ve eaten at the cafeteria,” she said as Marcos walked in like the room belonged to him.

He set the lunch down on her desk, but he wasn’t looking at her. Instead he eyed the guy sitting in the front. Then his gaze darted to his friends spread out on the ends of the first row.

He did it fast, so much so Marcos probably thought she wouldn’t notice the flash of a gang sign with his hands. It was different from the ones he used with his friends. Katie didn’t recognize it, but she wasn’t going to acknowledge it either.

Certainly not in front of the class.

“Gracias.” She pushed at his shoulder and then turned to the class. “Excuse me for one moment.”

She all but shoved Marcos out the door and then closed it behind her as she whispered, “What did that mean?”

“It meant he better not fuck with you.” Marcos reached out and smacked her ass as he gave her a smile. “Have a good day, chica.”

She turned around, making sure no one was in the hallway. Then she shoved his shoulder. “Get out of here.”

“I was thinking I could close up early and take you to the beach before dinner.” Marcos put his sunglasses back on. “Call me at lunch.”

Katie couldn’t help but smile, though she knew she shouldn’t be encouraging him. Then she went back into the classroom. She looked at the students, trying to gauge if they’d noticed anything, but they didn’t seem to. They all looked normal and restless like teenagers were apt to do on the first day back to school.

“I’m sorry about that.” She walked to the chalkboard and grabbed a piece of chalk. “As you saw on your schedules, my name is”—she wrote as she spoke—“Mrs. Rivera, and this is eleventh grade World History. When I call your name, you can tell me what you like to be referred to as, and I’ll do my very best to remember.”

Katie picked up the roll sheet. She looked at the boy in the middle, and then found his name on the list. “Since we’ve already been introduced, Mr. Perez, is it Jesus, or do you prefer something else? Chuito or—”

“Chu. It’s just Chu,” he mumbled as he looked to the door. Then he met his friends’ gazes uncertainly and finally huffed in frustration. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Rivera…about before.”

He seemed to choke on the apology, but something in the silent communication with his friends must have forced it out of him.

“Apology accepted,” she said with another smile. “As long as you don’t make a habit of it, I think we’ll get along fine.”

~ * ~

Marcos Rivera’s Boricua Guide to Spanish and Street Slang

Spanish, Boricua style

Así mojada
— So wet. (Note for the
muchachos
, if they aren’t
así mojada
you’re doing it wrong.)

Ay Dios mio
—Oh my God.

Bendito
—Blessed. A Puerto Rican catchall term of affection, especially favored by women feeling maternal, but not always. Will often be used when they feel sorry for someone. Can be shortened to “
dito
” too.

Boricuas
—The sexiest motherfuckers on the face of this planet. Not that it needs to be stated after that, but Boricua is another term for Puerto Rican.

Cabrón
— Sorta lost in translation, but asshole is close enough. Usually an insult, but is sometimes used affectionately between my friends, because really, calling each other cabrón is about as affectionate as two thugs ever plan to be with each other. It’s not like we’re the fucking Italians, okay? It technically means your
chica
is cheating on you. In other words, a huge insult. Naturally, we use it to fuck with each other.

Carajo
—Crap. Shit. Hell. Actual translation is sorta lost, but you get the point.

Cariño
—An endearment. Honey. Sweetheart. Darling. Not something you toss around lightly. You better be really into the
chica
you’re calling cariño.

Chica
—Girl. I’m a big fan of the chicas.

Chico
—Boy. Almost always
pendejos.

Chúpame el bicho
—Suck my dick. Like in English this is not always literal. I’m usually cussing someone out when I say this. If I actually want a chica to suck my dick, I’ll ask nicely. I’m a thug, but my mother still raised me to respect women.

Cojones
—Balls.

Coño
—Damn. Shit. Fuck. We love this phrase. It technically translates to “cunt” but isn’t used like that. Depending on how you say it depicts the level of frustration you’re trying to express.

De nada
—It’s nothing. Is used to say, “You’re welcome.”

Dios mio
—My God.

El Vibora
—The Viper. A sexy, badass motherfucker. Part-time underground fighter and full-time thug. The primary concern when fighting El Vibora isn’t winning…it’s not dying.

Eres bella
—You’re beautiful.

Estás del carajo
—You’re fucked up.

Gracias
—Thank you. (Some of these seem fucking obvious, but after going to Garnet, I’m inclined to include them. Those pendejos don’t know a lick of Spanish.)

Gringa
—White girl. Didn’t used to be my thing, but Katie changed my mind. (Highly recommended)

Gringo
—White guy. Probably a pendejo.

Gringos
—White people.

Hazlo de Nuevo. Deja escucharte
—Do it again. Let’s hear it. (Note for the muchachos, if you’re not making sure your chica is getting off more than once, and you’re not able to hear it when she does, then you’re doing it wrong. Very wrong.)

Hijos de puta
— Son of a bitch. Literally translates into son of a whore. (Important note, if you live in a house with your cousins, and you call one of them this while your
tía
is around, she will take it out of your ass. I have tested this for you. Many times. Not a recommended insult if said bitch is within a five-mile radius.)

Hijo de la gran puta
— Same as hijos de puta but on a much larger scale.

Hola
—Hello.

Los Corredores
—I Googled it, because Katie said something, and I was fucking curious. This is one of the descriptions I found online: Extremely dangerous Latino gang based out of Miami, with roots that trace back to Puerto Rico. Famous UFC fighter, Jesus “The Slayer” Garcia is a rumored former member of this gang. His PR people claim his tattoos are nothing more than a sign of respect to his Puerto Rican ancestry that coincidently bear a striking resemblance to Los Corredores markings. His tattoos are noticeably different than incarcerated gang members who have been photographed. They are completed works of ancestral art, not a scoreboard for crimes committed. (Note from the Slayer’s cousin, can you believe this shit? Who buys this? I haven’t met any other Boricuas with a completed work of Los Corredores art on their forearm, but if I did, I would probably be really fucking nice to him. Just saying. Even my ink isn’t completed and if you knew the shit I’ve done to earn my ink, a completed work of art would scare the ever loving fuck out of you.)

Maldita sea la madre que te parió
—Damn the motherfucking bitch who gave birth to you. (Note, as mentioned above with other mother-based insults, do not say this to your cousin if your tía can hear you! You thought hijo de la gran puta was bad. Just wait.)

Mami
—Mommy (This term can be used several different ways besides the obvious. I’m not inclined to call my girl mami, namely because the woman I used to call mami isn’t here anymore, but others do it. Also, parents will call their children mami and
papi
. Hard to explain in English, because English is a very cut and dry language, but we just do it. Get over it. It’s always an endearment, regardless of how it’s used. Also, see papi.)

Me cago en ná
—Damn. Shit. Screw everything. It expresses frustration or anger. Used rampantly among Puerto Ricans. Milder than other vulgar phrases and popular because of it.

Mi casa es tu casa
—My home is your home.

Mierda
—Shit.

Muchacho
—Man, usually a ballsy one who tends to strut. Likely an enormous
pendejo.

Muy bien
—Very good.

Nieta
—Granddaughter, will likely be sweet and need protection from someone else’s
nieto
when she gets older. (Recommended)

Nieto
—Grandson, will probably be a pendejo who will grow up and try to take advantage of someone else’s nieta. (Not recommended)

Nietos
—Grandchildren (If you can live long enough to pull this off, go for it.)

Papá
—Father.

Papi
—Daddy. Though Puerto Rican women will use it the way gringas sometimes use daddy. If a pretty Latina yells, “Ay, papi, so good!” during sex, don’t freak. It’s a compliment. You’re doing it right.

Patrón
—Expensive Mexican booze that will fuck you up. My cousin loves this shit. Whatever.

Pendejo
—Dumbass. Asshole.

Plátanos
—Popular Caribbean fruit that’s in the banana family and is often cooked in a pan until golden brown. It’s usually a side dish with dinner more often than not.

Puta
—Whore. It’s not nice. We have all used it at one time or another. What can I say? We have twice as many words to put down men if that makes you feel better.