14
Miguel Avila
I hated public places, especially outside. The fucking sun beat down on me while I sat on the park bench, and it was barely ten in the morning. Filthy, screaming kids played on the wooden playset and ran through the splash park.
My head pounded.
I needed my next fix.
They had better not be fucking with me. If this person didn’t come through with real proof of Silvia’s whereabouts, I would rage. When I raged, there was no controlling me.
Two other money-hungry people met their demise because they thought I could be fooled, and they’d get away with the hundred grand reward.
No chance. I always came out on top.
I pulled my hat lower to shield my face. My being here could get me in a lot of trouble, but obviously, I didn’t care. Jefe’s territory or not, this was where the dude arranged for us to meet.
Behind my dark shades, I eyed a fellow cutting across the playground. If he gave the code words, I’d know he was the one I was waiting for.
He sat next to me.
I held my breath waiting. This had to be him. I was out of patience and would leave in five, four, three, two—
“Gotta light?”
Bingo. This was the guy.
“What do you have for me?” I asked in a low voice. There were so many people around, I worried someone might hear our conversations. As I swept my gaze around the playground, I noticed several women and children staring at me.
“Do you have the money?”
“This isn’t a drug deal, punk. I don’t have it on me. It’s in my Porsche.” What an idiot. As if a hundred grand would fit neatly in my trousers.
“But you have it, right?”
“Yes, I have it. But I need proof you’ve seen her. Indisputable proof,” I said in a firm voice.
Those women and kids were still watching me. I scratched the top of my hands and blinked my eyes. If I didn’t get my next fix, I would explode before finding my sister.
“Here.” He handed me a picture. “Took it last Friday.”
I removed my sunglasses to get a better look. I couldn’t believe she dyed her hair. “Is that Andy Garcia with her?” The image wasn’t large and the two people, one being my sister, weren’t zoomed in enough for me to be sure.
“Um, I don’t know his real name. He’s El Jefe to me.”
I turned my gaze at the dude. “Are you a King?”
“Was a prospect until he threw me out.”
“That sucks.” I smiled, feeling confident he wasn’t lying about my sister.
“Yeah, it does. Now I have nowhere to go. I need the money, man, for a fresh start.”
I bet he did. “Follow me. I’ll get the money.”
“Cool.” He snapped his fingers and stood. The idiot probably thought he hit the lottery. Pathetic bastard.
“People are so nosy around here,” I told him. “Look at them over there staring at me.”
That was Mexicans for you. They didn’t know how to mind their own damn business. They should know I was an Avila and show me the respect I deserved. Even the kids were acting like I was an I.C.E agent.
Like no kid, I’m not cuffing your mom and hauling her away. Couldn’t they tell I was Latino? Not from Mexico, but my family had immigrated from Spain. There were a few generations of my lineage in America.
Still, why wouldn’t they stop staring at me?
“Nobody’s watching you.” The dude looked at me funny.
“Yes, they are.” I pointed to help him see what I meant. “Stop staring at me!” I shouted at the onlookers.
“Hey, man. You feeling, okay? Need a doctor? Want me to call a friend?”
I glared at the punk wanna-be biker. He was such a waste of air, but not for long.
“Come on. My car is over here.”