Chapter Eleven #2
There was a slight pause before he replied, “Okay, I’m on my way, but even if I leave now, you’re going to be late.”
“I know, but I have to pick up Thunderbird.”
“Yeah, okay. I’m on my way.”
“Gracias, Marcello.”
“Be there in ten.” He hung up so I sat down on the curb in front of the house to wait.
It took him nearly twenty minutes to arrive and while I waited, I called my boss, letting him know I was going to be about an hour late.
He sounded angry but I explained that it couldn’t be helped and hung up, ending the call quickly.
I didn’t want to argue with him. Facing him once I got there would be bad enough.
As soon as I got into the car, Marcello smiled.
“Listen, I’m sorry I woke you up this morning. I was just anxious to talk to you after everything that happened last night.”
I shook my head. “Thank you for the ride, Marcello, but I no want to talk about yesterday. If I think about, it make me sick.” I mimicked vomiting.
He chuckled. “Okay.”
I blew out a relieved breath. “Thank you.”
“No problem and I just wanted to apologize for everything that happened. I know you didn’t get paid and since I didn’t either, I think you should let me figure out something else for you to earn a little extra money… You know, to make up for that mess.”
That sounded really good, but I felt guilty asking my friend to go out of his way. I shrugged. “If you find work and need someone extra for helping, then you call me but it’s no necesario, Marcello.”
“I’ll call around. Maybe find something for both of us.”
I smiled at him and reached out, patting him on the shoulder. “Mi amigo.”
We spent the rest of the drive talking about stupid things his brother and sisters did. I laughed, which felt good. I had a feeling that Marcello was deliberately trying to keep my mind off what had happened with the cartel which was very nice. He really was a good friend.
Oddly enough, there seemed to be a maturity about him that was even more pronounced than usual.
He’d always been a bread winner, helping his mamá with the finances, but this felt different to me.
He seemed to have grown into a man overnight.
He was still the light-hearted Marcello on the surface, cracking jokes that made me laugh as he drove, but there was an underlying seriousness to him that I normally gave to older, wiser people.
When the conversation turned to Rex, it felt natural.
“So, this agent, Rex. You guys talk. Sort it out?”
I couldn’t help the broad smile that crossed my face at the thought of the handsome man I was falling hard for. “Si, Rex, we talk. Misunderstanding with work. Is okay now.”
“Okay, that’s good,” he said.
I turned to look at him, noting the stoic expression that he wore for only a second before the normal, jovial Marcello was back. I couldn’t help feeling a little weird.
“How long have you known him?”
“Not long, but I really like him. He pick me up from work.”
“But what do you know about him, Cachi?”
It was a strange question. Actually, all of Marcello’s questions were strange.
We usually had light-hearted conversations about our love life, but he never probed the way he was doing now.
He wasn’t acting like he normally did when we were together, but maybe that had something to do with the situation yesterday.
He and the other valets had seen everything that had happened to the cartel guy, so he was probably feeling freaked out just like I was.
“I think he not a normal agent with the FBI. He do something else.” I suddenly remembered seeing Rex holding a rifle case yesterday. I’d seen cases like them in the movies. I think Rex—he’s a—” I couldn’t think of the word in English. Instead, I mimicked holding a rifle and looking through a scope.
Marcello’s mouth opened as he turned to me. “Oh, he’s a sniper?”
I suddenly remembered the word from the video games I’d played with Marcello’s brother, Franco, so I nodded. “Si, Rex, he is sniper.”
“So, he’s on a Tac Team with the FBI?”
I shrugged, not knowing what that was since Rex had never explained his job to me. “Maybe. He never say.”
“And you think he’s a good guy?” Marcello scoffed. “Snipers kill people, Cachi. That’s what your friend does for the FBI. He kills people.”
I was really annoyed. He didn’t know Rex.
How could he judge him solely from his job and why were there suddenly all these questions about him.
Marcello was curious by nature, but he’d never given me the third degree about guys I dated.
I did know this. I definitely didn’t want to make Rex look bad in any way.
“I don’t know.” I pointed to a freeway sign, relieved to see we were approaching Skirball Center Drive.
“I see it,” Marcello said, taking the off-ramp.
When he turned onto Roscomare Road a few minutes later, my stomach rolled.
After this, I knew I’d never come back here again.
I didn’t even want to be here now. When I spotted remnants of yellow tape tied to trees near the gated community, I felt like throwing up.
Thankfully, my car was still parked at the curb a block away.
I was worried that the FBI or LAPD would have had it towed away.
It wasn’t close enough for me to see bloodstains on the ground and I knew I would’ve lost it if I’d been forced to see signs of the shooting all over again.
Marcello pulled up behind my car, and I dug my keys out of my pocket, thankful I still had them because they’d been in the pocket of my Dickies when everything happened.
I turned to my friend who was watching me with a serious expression on his face. “Thank you, Marcello.” I offered him a smile which he didn’t immediately return. Instead, he seemed to want to say something to me. He reached out and put a hand on my knee.
“You know I’ll always be your friend, Cachi.” He didn’t smile.
“Of course, and you always be my friend, Marcello.”
“And you know, if you’re ever in trouble, you can call me.”
I frowned, wondering if he was trying to say something that I just was too stupid to understand. “Si, I know, Marcello. You are good friend.”
He nodded, seeming satisfied with my answer. I stared at him. He still looked torn, like he really wanted to say something more, but since he didn’t, I checked my watch. “I sorry, Marcello, but I need to work. I late.”
“Sure.”
“We talk later, mi amigo.”
He nodded one last time. “See you around, Cachi.” His hand slid off my knee.
“Si.” I turned and opened the door before looking back. “See you around.”
He finally smiled and then nodded slightly as I got out of the car. I stood there until he’d pulled away, wondering where my funny, light-hearted friend had gone.
Thirty minutes later, I wound my way through the busy club to the back hallway, anxious to get to work since I was almost an hour late.
Though I had high hopes of avoiding Larry, Dance Hall Boys’ manager, he was hanging around in the hallway right outside the dressing room.
I wasn’t a fan of the older man. He frequently hung around the dressing rooms, strolling in whenever he wanted, staring at the go-go boys when we changed clothes.
I hated being leered at, especially by someone who repulsed me, so it was very unfortunate that he was right here as soon as I got to work.
He looked up from the paperwork in his hands when he saw me and frowned, pointedly glancing at his watch and then looking up again. “You were supposed to be here an hour ago, Cachi.”
“Si, Larry, and I tell you I am late. Sorry.” I reached out to punch the keypad to unlock the dressing room door, but he grabbed my shoulder, yanking me around to face him.
“All of you guys think you can get away with whatever you want,” he shouted.
I took a step back from him. I didn’t like being yelled at and after everything that had happened in the last couple of days starting with being assaulted in the parking lot at this very club, I was filled with anxiety.
“I never late, Larry. This is only first time,” I said, hating how my English was always worse when I was stressed out.
“I should fire you, Cachi.” He cocked his head and openly leered at me. My stomach did a slow roll as he reached for my face, running fingers down my cheek to my lips. “But you can keep your job if you’re nice to me.”
I instinctively ducked, pulling my face away from his hand, hating the way goose bumps had risen all over my skin at the unwelcome touch. He made me feel like I needed a shower. I shook my head. “I no interested, Larry. I only working.”
Larry dropped the paperwork he was holding and forcefully pushed me.
My back hit the far wall, startling an oomph out of me before he was suddenly right there in front of me, pressing his big belly against my middle as he frantically looked side to side, checking the corridor.
He turned back to me and reached up, curling one fist into my hair and grabbing my chin with the other.
“You’d better be nice to me, Cachi, or you’ll lose this job.
” I opened my mouth to shout but his mouth was suddenly there, pressing against mine, forcing my lips open, trying to push his tongue inside.
I instinctively bit down on his lip and at the same time, kneed him in the groin as hard as I could.
Larry let out an inhuman cry of pain as he suddenly let go.
In an instant his weight was gone, and he’d doubled over in front of me.
I took those precious seconds to turn and run back the way I’d come.
I didn’t look back, charging through the club, dodging patrons and servers as I ran all the way to the door.
Slamming through the door, I was suddenly outside in the fresh air.
I charged across the parking lot to my car, feeling like I was being chased by hellhounds.
I unlocked it with shaking hands and climbed in, locking the door behind me.
Sliding my key into the ignition, I started the Thunderbird with a roar.
I started to back out of my parking spot but slammed on the brake when I realized someone was walking right behind the car.
I got several curses for that but ignored them, throwing the car into gear, and tearing out of the lot as fast as I could.
It was only when I was out on Santa Monica that I felt tears streaming down my face.
I’d assaulted the club’s manager after arriving over an hour late to work and now, I knew there was no way I could go back.
If, by some miracle, Larry decided not to call the police to tell them what I’d done, there was no way he’d let me keep the job that paid so well.
Mamá and I would be in dire straits without that income, and I’d just flushed it all down the drain in one stupid move.
I didn’t know what to do, but I did know this, I was screwed.
Big time.