Chapter 5 #2
Mace and I linger awkwardly in the living room, the silence stretching between us like taffy. He picks up a tacky ceramic angel from the mantel, turning it over in his hands with a smirk.
“Syd’s been nagging me to redecorate our place,” he says with a husky chuckle. “She says it looks straight outta the ’90s. I should bring her here. Show her what a real time warp looks like.”
I open my mouth to reply, but the words die before they’re ever born. The front door slides open, and Solana enters with her keys in hand and bookbag slung over her shoulder.
Her eyes are downcast, brow furrowed, lost in thought ’til she realizes she’s not alone. For once, she hasn’t come home to an empty house. She has visitors.
She stumbles to a stop, her gaze flicking up and meeting mine.
Suddenly the world’s grinding to a halt. It’s just the two of us standing a few feet apart, both thrown by the sudden appearance of the other.
Both unsure how to react or what to do or say.
In this moment, I’m struck by how much she reminds me of Rachel. Not the Rachel of today. The Rachel I’d known so many years ago, before things got twisted and jaded.
She’s got the same freckled face and round cheeks. The same wide, guileless eyes. Even the same air of innocence that seems too good for the gritty, fucked-up world we live in.
But at the same time, she’s different. There’s no denying that—she has copper skin and her hair’s done up in long, thick locs that fall down her back. Her soft, plush lips part as if she’s about to say something, then she stops herself.
I take in the oversized sweater that engulfs her frame, the chunky scarf wound around her throat, and realize why she’s dressed the way she has.
She’s hiding the evidence.
More anger simmers in my gut, threatening to unleash itself.
But I made a promise. I can’t confront her like this. Not in front of Mace and her uncle. Not after I gave her my word.
Mace breaks the silence, missing out on the subtext for why. “Sup, Solana? How’s it going?”
She blinks, tearing her gaze away from mine, and pastes on a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, you know,” she says, her tone forcibly light. “Living the dream. Classes are kicking my butt, but what else is new?”
“That’s the way it should be,” he chuckles, folding his arms. “Keep hitting those books. Make something of yourself.”
She nods, her smile faltering as her eyes dart back to me. There’s a question burning in their dark brown depths.
Some sorta plea for... something. Understanding? Confirmation I’ve kept her secret?
I open my mouth as if to ask myself. As if I’m about to pull her aside so we can talk about whatever happened Saturday night.
But then Eddie comes stomping back into the room, his piece tucked into the waistband of his jeans.
“Alright, let’s roll,” he says, clapping his hands together. His gaze lands on Solana and he grins, even more oblivious than Mace. “Hey, kid. Didn’t see you come in.”
“Hey, Unc,” she says, hitching her bookbag higher on her shoulder. “Um… heading out?”
“Club business. Might be a late one. Don’t wait up.”
I watch her face fall before she catches it and smooths her features back into a mask of neutrality. She nods, her fingers tight on the strap of her bag. Probably figuring it’s better if he is preoccupied with club business considering what she’s got going on.
Eddie’s already out the door, Mace hot on his heels.
I pause at the threshold, casting her one last look over my shoulder. The corner of her lip twitches like she’s about to say goodbye, though neither of us do. We just exchange one last parting look, the air loud and silent with what we know and the others don’t.
It’s going to stay that way. I made a promise. And I’m a man of my word.
Even if it kills me…
The truck stop right outside the Portales town border is neutral ground. It’s nobody’s territory, right in the middle between where we’re located and the area the Penas call their stomping grounds.
A quick layover along the way for most people passing through, it’s the perfect place to meet to discuss business and broker deals.
The drizzle has only picked up by the time we’re pulling into the lot and getting out of the Hummer.
The Penas are already waiting on us, their pressed suits serving as a direct contrast to our torn denim and cracked leather. Then again, this whole arrangement has been an exercise in strange bedfellows from the start.
Manuel Pena stands front and center, flanked by the twins, Juan and Javier, each of them as big and mean looking as a junkyard dog.
I meet Manuel halfway, the gravel crunching under my boots. One of the few sounds in the otherwise tense silence.
He’s a dead ringer for his old man, right down to the bald head and meticulously groomed goatee. Shrewd calculation lives in his eyes, demonstrating Enrique taught his son well.
But these days Enrique leaves it up to Manuel to handle the operations. The infamous cartel kingpin is satisfied to remain untouchable in his mansion with his small militia down south.
“Silver,” Manuel says, his voice smooth as top-shelf tequila. “So good of you to call this meeting. I trust you’re enjoying the fine Texas weather we’re having?”
I chuckle at the sarcasm, casting a pointed glance at the leaden sky. “Yeah, perfect beach weather.”
It’s the end of any humorous exchange as Manuel chuckles much the same way I have.
We both know this isn’t a social call. The club’s been hemorrhaging money for months, and the prices the Penas are charging for their hardware isn’t doing us any favors.
Meanwhile, they’ve been raking in the dough hand over fist, getting fat off our misfortune. Something’s gotta give.
“So what’s on your mind, amigo?” Manuel asks, his dark eyes boring into mine. “I assume you didn’t drag us all the way out here just to chat about sunshine… or lack thereof.”
I take a deep breath, hooking my thumbs into my belt loops. “It’s time we renegotiate our arrangement. The current deal isn’t working for us anymore. We need a better price on the merchandise.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” he answers coolly. His expression doesn’t change, though his dark eyes harden. “A deal is a deal, Silver. We shook on it. Are you telling me the Steel Kings don’t honor their word?”
“It ain’t about going back on our word,” I say.
I’m doing my best to keep level-headed despite the hot spike of anger that’s growing inside me.
I force it down and remind myself losing my temper won’t do anybody any good.
“This is about negotiating a better deal for both parties. Things change, Manuel. What worked a year ago—even six months ago—might not work now.”
“What worked six months ago was the price you agreed to, cabrón. The price you shook on. And now you want to change the terms? I’m starting to think the rumors are true. The Steel Kings can’t be trusted.”
I bark out a laugh with no humor in it. “You’re not the only game in town, Pena. You’d do well to remember that.”
His lip curls in a sneer. “What, you’ll go crawling back to the Barreras? Oh wait, I forgot. You burned that bridge to ash. And the Madrigals? They’re all but extinct. Face it, Silver. You need us more than we need you.”
Any restraint I’ve got on my temper fades away at the disrespect. Old habits—the man I’ve fought long and hard to grow from—emerge as he challenges me.
I take a step forward, getting right up in his face. The twins immediately do what enforcers do and tense up behind him, their hands hovering over the bulges hidden by their suit jackets.
But I don’t blink. I don’t give a fuck when it’s time I make one thing and one thing only clear.
“Is that a threat, Manuel?” I ask, eyes narrowing. “’Cuz the Steel Kings don’t take kindly to threats.”
“Take it however you want, Silver,” he answers unflinchingly. His dark eyes glitter with malice and mocking. “But I promise you this—you go back on our deal, you may not like what happens next.”
For a moment, we’re at an impasse, staring at each other with neither side backing down. Eddie and Mace are backing me up the way the twins are right behind Manuel.
Everybody present knows how bad this could go and how quickly it can happen. We’ve become coiled springs ready to unleash hell at the slightest provocation.
But the bottom line is this isn’t the time or the place. Not for bullets to go flying or blood to be spilled.
So I take a step back, a crooked grin spreading slowly across my face. “I guess we’ll just have to see about that, won’t we? You have a good day, Manuel. Something tells me you’re gonna regret your mistake today.”
I turn on my heel and stalk back to the Hummer, Eddie and Mace falling into step behind me.
The Penas remain where they are, their heated glares burning holes between my shoulder blades.
But I don’t look back. Not ’til we’re peeling out of the parking lot and I check the rearview to see they’re still watching us go.
“We never should’ve gotten into bed with those fucking snakes,” Big Eddie growls, his massive hand making the steering wheel look smaller. “They’re not the type to squash any beef they have. You remember the stories about them and the Madrigals. Mark my words. This is about to be a shitshow.”
Mace scoffs from the back, his voice dripping with bravado. “Fuck ’em. They ain’t gonna do shit. We’re one of their biggest buyers. They can’t afford to lose our business. And if they do try something? We’ll be ready—we always are.”
I’m barely listening, my mind already racing ahead to the next move. The club’s in financial trouble—big trouble—and it’s all on my shoulders to steer us through to calmer waters.
Thirty years ago, I was just a prospect, a young kid with more balls than brains, eager to prove myself. I never dreamed I’d be sitting at the head of the table one day, the fate of the whole damn club resting on me. Depending on the decisions I made.
But here I am, for better or worse. The acting prez of the club I’ve revered since I was a boy on training wheels.
I glance out the window as a rumble of thunder rolls across the sky, the clouds bruised and heavy with the promise of more rain. It feels like an omen, a warning of the storm that’s brewing on the horizon.
Trouble’s coming, that much I know for sure. I just hope like hell the club’s strong enough to weather it.