After Luis said the L word, I pretended that I heard Brittany calling my name and practically ran out of his room. I ignored the fact that he said it, and he hasn’t brought it up again.
On Wednesday, I decide to go to work with him because we kind of need to talk about Sunday. I don’t want to make a big deal about it, but I don’t want to throw around the L word like Marco and I did.
Luis now works for his cousin. Enrique’s Auto Body is located on the south side of Fairfield, on the corner of Washington Street and Main Street. It’s on an intersection where gang members used to hang out. This particular part of Fairfield was famous for weekly drive-by shootings when I was in grade school. Even though there was a front-page article in the local newspaper a while back about the absence of gang activity in recent years, I get an eerie feeling just being here.
“This is it,” Luis says when we pull up to one of the three parking spaces out front.
My eyes zero in on the old, random bullet hole marks on the side of the building as Luis leads me inside.
A guy with tattoos running up and down his arms is bent over a car’s engine. He’s wearing a dirty T-shirt and pants that need a good washing. “Hey, ese,” the guy says.
Luis motions to me. “This is Nikki.”
“Encantado de conocerte, Nikki. Soy Enrique, el primo de Luis.”
“She doesn’t speak Spanish, Enrique,” Luis tells him.
Enrique laughs. “Sorry. You look Mexican.”
“Not all Mexicans speak Spanish,” I counter.
“All the Mexicans I know do,” he says. “Hell, a majority of Mexicans I know don’t even speak English.”
“My dad thought it was more important to perfect his English. We don’t speak Spanish at home.”
Enrique shakes his head, as if my dad’s theory doesn’t sit well with him. “To each his own.”
Luis walks over and looks under the hood of the car Enrique was just working on. “Got a leaky gasket?” he asks Enrique.
“Sí. It needs a tune-up and—”
Enrique freezes when a girl walks in the shop. She looks like she’s in her twenties, and she obviously knows Luis, because she runs up and gives him a big hug the second she sees him.
“You look like a man, Luis,” she says, then rubs the stubble on his face. “The last time I saw you, this was peach fuzz.”
Luis brushes her hand away. “Thanks for embarrassin’ me in front of mi novia, Isa.”
“Alex didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend,” she says. She looks surprised to see me standing a few feet away from him. “Oh, I didn’t see you there. I’m Isabel, an old friend of Luis’s brother.”
I smile back. “Nice to meet you.”
Enrique, who’s been silent since Isa walked in, wipes his hands on his pants. I see him swallowing a few times, as if he’s nervous. “Hi, Isa,” he says with a big grin on his face. “I’m glad you’re here. Really. I hardly ever see you.”
“I’ve been busy working,” she tells him.
“I know. I wish you came by more.”
Isa bites her lip nervously. “My car has been revving when I press on the gas, as if it doesn’t want to go. I thought you could check it out.”
“Absolutely,” Enrique says enthusiastically. “Give me your keys. I’ll take a look at it right now. Luis, head out to the back lot. I lined up cars that need oil changes.”
Luis tells me to wait for him while he changes into his work coveralls. I chat with Isabel for a few minutes, until Luis comes back.
“That’s definitely a fashion statement,” I joke, taking in his oversized blue coveralls covering him from neck to ankle.
He points his thumb toward the back room. “You want to wear one? If you like ’em so much, I’ve got a spare in the back.”
“No, thanks.”
He pulls a toolbox off one of the shelves and motions for me to follow him. The sun is shining bright in the sky, and today it’s warm, although with the fall Chicago weather, you never know what each day will be like. I sit on the ground in front of the car Luis is working on and lift my face to the sun.
“Is Enrique in a gang?” I ask so only he can hear. “I saw his tattoos.”
“He’s an OG—an Original Gangster … not too active anymore.”
“What does that mean?”
He shrugs. “It means he’s an old-timer, not a foot soldier. OGs like Enrique only get called on when there’s somethin’ big goin’ down. He stays pretty much to himself, but … you know … loyalty runs deep.”
“He likes Isabel,” I tell him.
“I know.” He sits on one of those rolling dollies and pulls out tools from the toolbox. “But he said she’s turned him down every time he asks her out. She’s kind of hopelessly pining for the guy she was in love with in high school.”
A pang of regret that I spent so much time hopelessly mourning my doomed relationship with Marco settles inside me. It was a waste, and I can never get that time back. “Was it a bad breakup?”
He stills. “They didn’t actually break up. He died.”
“That’s so awful.”
Luis doesn’t look at me. “He was Alex’s best friend.”
“How did he die?”
“He got shot.”
Questions start swirling through my head. “By a rival gang?”
“No. By his own gang.” He looks sad as he sits on the wooden dolly and stares at the ground.
“I don’t get it, Luis. Why would someone even join a gang?”
“Some people don’t have a choice,” he says before lying down on the dolly and rolling his upper body under the car.
I tap his leg.
He slides back out and looks up at me.
“There’s always a choice. You didn’t join a gang even though your brothers did.” I lean down and kiss him. “You didn’t take the easy way out. I love you for that.”
He raises an eyebrow when the L word escapes from my lips.
Oops. That was not supposed to happen.
“I didn’t mean love as in the ‘I love you’ kind of way,” I’m quick to point out, then slap my hand over my face to hide my embarrassment.
He sits up and gently nudges my hand down. “Don’t worry, mi chava,” he says, then winks at me. “I know what you meant. Listen, you don’t know what my brothers went through. They did what they needed to do. Don’t judge them. You don’t know what it’s like to be us … to be poor and live in the middle of a street war. You never had to live with drive-bys and watchin’ your best friend die in your arms. It sucks.”
“You’re right, I can’t imagine what it’s like. I’m just glad you’re not a part of it.”
He nods, then spends the rest of the time working while I watch.
“Can I help you?” I ask. “I feel bad just sitting here while you’re working.”
His hand appears from under one of the cars. “Hand me the oil filter wrench.”
I look at the tools laid out. Umm … they all look the same to me. I look back at his waiting hand. “You stumped me.”
I hear him laugh. “Sorry. It’s the thing that looks like a claw with red rubber handles.”
Considering there’s only one thing with red rubber handles, I have a pretty good idea which one it is. I pick it up and place it in his waiting hand.
When he’s finished, he slides back out. “You remind me of my sister-in-law. She knows shit about cars, except how to put the key in the ignition.”
I raise my hand. “I know how to do that.”
“Please tell me your dad at least taught you how to change a tire.”
“I don’t have to know how to change a tire.” I reach into my purse and pull out the handy card I always carry with me for those types of emergencies. “My dad got me a Triple-A membership for that.”
He rolls his eyes. “You should know how to change a tire. Remind me to teach you one day.”
We spend the rest of the time talking. It’s scary. The more I know about Luis, the more I like him. We’re so totally different, but I get him. We never run out of stuff to talk about, and even when there’s a lull in the conversation it’s not awkward.
“Would you ever consider applyin’ to Purdue?” he asks me when he’s underneath the fourth car in line for an oil change.
He already told me that’s his first choice of schools. “I don’t know. It wasn’t on my top ten list. Why?”
“I thought maybe, you know, if you and I were still …” His voice drops off. “Forget it, Nik. I think I’ve breathed in too many oil fumes.”
If we’re still together by the end of the year, it would be great if we could go to the same college. I feel so close to Luis right now, and we’re growing closer every day. I have to remind myself not to get sucked in.
I need to tell him how I feel.
I tap on his knee. “I think we’re getting too serious.”
“You’re a pessimist,” he says, rolling out from under the car again. “Have some faith.” He pulls me down to him and caresses my back. I can feel the warmth of his hands penetrate through my shirt. “I have dirty hands,” he says. “Your shirt is probably ruined.”
The sound of footsteps coming toward us makes us part.
“What’s up, man,” Marco says. He’s standing with a huge scary-looking guy.
I clutch Luis’s bicep tightly.
“You gonna introduce me to your friend?” the scary guys asks.
I can feel Luis’s bicep flex. “Nikki, this is Chuy. He’s a buddy of mine.”
Chuy puts his cigar in the side of his mouth and stares at me long and hard. It makes me feel like he’s assessing my value. “You go to Fairfield High?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve never seen you around before.”
“She lives on the other side of town,” Marco chimes in. “Right, Nik?”
I nod.
“Listen, guys,” Luis says. I sense that he’s deliberately taking the focus off of me. “If you’re lookin’ for Enrique, last I saw he was in the garage.”
“I’m not lookin’ for Enrique,” Chuy says. “I was lookin’ for you, Fuentes. I’ve got a task for you.”
I feel my heart stop beating as I realize what’s happening.
Luis has been recruited into the LB.