CHAPTER 22
Diego pulled up to an apartment building that resembled a two-story motel.
The facade, like so much in El Paso, was adobe beige.
He supposed that made it harder to tell when the surrounding desert and relentless sunshine had done their work.
At the moment, the scene was tranquil, due to the late hour.
Just a little past two in the morning. He leaned forward to consider the upper walkway that ran in front of his grandmother’s apartment.
Only the porch light was on. They’d have to wait until morning.
His eyes moved higher, to the twinkling stars in the sky.
If only he could be as free. Diego was tempted to leave his car and wander into the wilderness, leaving everything behind.
Not just his troubles, but his identity as well. What value did any of it have now?
His head swiveled to the reclined passenger seat.
Ricky was curled up, facing him. With his glasses off and his eyes closed, he appeared angelic.
Diego felt more like the devil. They had waited until Monday to leave, when everyone was at work, so they’d be well over state lines by the time Ricky’s parents figured out that he’d skipped town.
Just in case they called the cops or something crazy.
Diego settled back while watching Ricky’s chest slowly rise and fall.
What the hell was he thinking by bringing him here?
Or by being with him at all? He had assumed that dating a dude would be easier, and in some ways it was, but he’d assumed guys weren’t as easy to hurt.
Not like all the girls he’d driven away previously.
If anything, he worried more about hurting Ricky than he had any of the others.
This trip would break his heart. Assuming that Diego got what he’d come here for.
That was going to be brutal. But what choice did he have?
Everything was so fucked up. The foundation Diego had built his life on was always cracked and broken, but now it had crumbled away entirely.
Even simple pleasures, like getting laid, had become complicated.
Diego couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened—how a knife had been pressed to his mother’s throat.
Had she trembled and wept? Or glared in silent defiance?
Diego didn’t know and never would. But he couldn’t stop imagining.
Especially when Ricky wanted to mess around, because the thought of being on top of him, or doing anything without his explicit permission every step of the way, freaked him out now. And killed the mood.
They’d finally managed again on the boring fifteen-hour drive here.
The experience had been entirely one-sided, Diego’s attention split between watching the road and the intense pleasure he felt, making it difficult to think of anything else.
Ricky smiled afterwards, like everything was okay again.
As for Diego, he had immediately reviewed what they did and felt bad for pushing down on Ricky’s head at the last second.
He knew from experience that they were both into that sort of thing, but a wave of revulsion hit him regardless.
He didn’t want to be anything like the man who had made him.
And maybe the logic was twisted, but the only way he could make things right again, was by unmaking the bastard.
Or at least by beating him within an inch of his life.
Diego hadn’t decided yet. What he discovered while here would determine that.
Either way, he’d get locked up afterward.
Considering his priors and his age, the authorities would probably try him as an adult.
That was fine. At least prison was a place to start rebuilding.
He’d be the guy who was behind bars for killing the man who raped his mother. Pretty solid, as far as identities go.
He leaned his seat back and shifted so he was facing Ricky.
Diego wanted to take his hand, but that would wake him up.
So he settled for touching the folded glasses that rested on the center console, his heart heavy, because when they woke up, everything was going to change.
One way or another, but what they’d had…
He swallowed. Nothing lasted forever. Diego rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he winced against the morning light.
Ricky was sitting up, his hair an absolute mess. “Good morning! I uh… really have to pee.”
“Me too.” Diego returned the seat to the upright position, his muscles stiff. “All right. Let’s go see the old bat.”
He liked his grandmother. A lot. They were always open with each other.
She was a no-nonsense woman. But he’d have to play this one carefully.
Oscar was her son. No matter how much a piece-of-shit he was, she probably wouldn’t want him to get hurt.
Diego worked his shoulders once standing next to the car, limbering himself up, just in case Oscar was living with her. Wouldn’t that be convenient?
He led the way up a flight of stairs to her door and knocked.
Lucinda answered, her attention on two cats who slipped out near her feet. Her eyes traveled up his body and brightened when reaching his face.
“Diego! Mi Rey! What a nice surprise!”
His grandmother always looked the same. She was a wiry woman with shoulder-length black hair and sunbaked skin.
Like the man who had raised him, she was short.
Lucinda didn’t come across as elderly. She always had plenty of energy, such as the way she grabbed Diego’s hand and tried to pull him inside. That is, until she noticed Ricky.
“Is he with you?”
Ricky was chasing the cats down the walkway, as if wanting to catch them.
“Yup,” Diego confirmed.
“Leave them!” Lucinda called. “They’ll come back when they get hungry.”
“Oh!” Ricky said when turning around. “I wasn’t sure if they were allowed outside.”
“Who’s the little guy?” Lucinda murmured as they watched him approach.
“Ricky. He’s my boyfriend.”
His grandmother looked at him sharply. “Is this a joke?”
“Nah.”
“You’re one of those gay boys I’ve seen on my talk shows?”
Diego shook his head. “I don’t do talk shows.”
That’s all the explanation he offered. Lucinda shrugged and introduced herself to Ricky. Then she ushered them inside. Cats scattered in all directions. She always had way too many. The place stunk of them, but it was a smell he adjusted to quickly. Ricky seemed delighted.
“I hope you aren’t allergic,” he murmured.
Ricky shook his head. “I love cats!”
“Then you are very welcome here,” Lucinda said in approval. “Have you eaten?”
That was how she showed her love to the world. His grandmother fed strays, wild animals, and just about anyone who showed up at her door. A few visits back, he’d shared a meal with the guy who’d come to switch out her cable box.
“Not yet,” Diego said, pointing across a small living room. “Bathroom is that way.”
Ricky rushed off in the indicated direction. Diego followed his grandma into a kitchen that always was a chaotic mess. The counters were cluttered, the sink perpetually full, and yet that never seemed to slow her down. Lucinda grabbed a frying pan and took out a carton of eggs.
“What are you doing here?” she asked while busying herself. “Spring break?”
“Yeah. Can we crash here tonight?”
“Of course! Where are you headed? Down to Mexico?”
“No. I wanted to see you.”
She shot him a smile of approval. “And you wanted me to meet your special friend? You’ve never brought someone with you before. I would have expected a girl. Is that what you came to tell me?”
“I like girls,” he assured her. “And I like Ricky.”
She studied him, her hands seeming to run on autopilot. “I don’t understand young people today,” she concluded.
His grandmother had long ago mastered English, only the hint of an accent, but she still spoke in a rapid-fire cadence that was common in Mexico.
Ricky was quickly besieged when returning from the restroom, Lucinda full of questions.
Diego abandoned him to make use of the facilities.
When he returned, Ricky was trying to clear the small table enough to make room for them all.
“Just put it on the floor,” Diego advised, grabbing a stack of junk mail and old TV guides.
He’d help throw it all out later, just like he always did.
His grandmother would usually sit on the couch while pointing at things for him to put into trash bags, as if delighting in having a servant.
She was more than physically capable of doing the work herself, and maybe she would, if not overwhelmed by the number of pets she kept and her active social life.
Three plates of huevos rancheros—corn tortillas topped with refried beans, eggs, and salsa—were set on the table. Diego’s mouth watered. Ricky seemed a little uncertain until taking his first bite.
“Are you Chinese?” Lucinda asked. “What do they eat there for breakfast?”
“I’m American,” Ricky said with good humor. “But I have Japanese ancestry on both sides of my family. And I don’t know. I like French toast.”
“I’ll make that for you tomorrow,” Lucinda replied. She turned her attention to Diego. “How’s your mother? And the business? You’re still in school, aren’t you?”
He was subjected to these questions and more, Diego answering them without revealing his hand. He waited until after the meal, when it was time to clean up.
“Go play with the cats,” he suggested.
Ricky perked up. “Can I?”
“Yeah.” Diego cleared the table and stood dutifully at the sink with a dish towel, to help his grandmother dry as she washed.
“I wanna know more about Oscar,” he said.
Lucinda stiffened. “How come?”
“Why do you think?”
She glanced at him. “Your mother told you?”
“That I was raised by my uncle? I found out.”
She shook her head. “Lorenzo was your father.”
He scowled at this. “Don’t play dumb.”
“Don’t be stupid!” she shot back. “Being a sperm donor doesn’t make you a parent.”