Chapter 13

Without saying anything, I put my backpack and the Styrofoam cup on the workbench. I stand by the door with my arms crossed.

Her cheeks are red. With a smile, she sits up. The sheets slide down. She’s wearing a lacy pink bra. Her brown skin glows in the sunlight from the windows. Her dark hair is loose and wavy, tossed over her shoulders. My fingers twitch, aching to touch her.

Her eyes scan my face then slide down my chest. I flex my arms. The sleeves of my T-shirt are snug against my biceps. When she swallows, I see the muscles flex in her throat. Through the lace her dark nipples get hard. My cock does the same.

“You’re late,” she says.

“I had a little breakfast.”

“Was it good?”

“Not as good as this is going to be.” She watches as I remove my shirt. My muscles are swollen and twitching from my workout. “What have you been doing while you wait for me, baby?”

Eyes on mine, she throws off the bedsheets. Her panties fall on the floor—a lacy thong. She spreads her legs for me to see. Her hands slide slowly down her torso.

“Have you been playing with yourself?” I ask.

“And thinking of you.”

Fuck. I’m on fire. It’s only been a day but I need her like I need water, food, sleep. I’m starving for her. I take off the rest of my clothes, but I don’t go to her. Instead, I take my dick in my hand and begin to stroke myself, slow and gentle, because the sight of her has already put me on the edge.

“Show me,” I whisper.

She opens her legs wider. I can see the faint bruises and hickeys I left on her thighs. A sunbeam from the window falls right on her slick pussy and I think maybe we got it wrong about the image of the gates guarded by Saint Peter. These are the real pearly gates. This is the way to heaven.

Her nails are short, no polish. I watch as their neat tips slide between the soft folds and spread the dark lips apart gently. She shows off her pink opening to me. The image burns itself into my brain.

I take a deep breath. I can smell her strawberry shampoo. I can smell the fabric softener on the pink T-shirt and shorts that are crumpled on the floor by the bed—her getaway outfit, what she’ll put on after she’s had her morning fuck. I can smell the faint sweet scent of her pussy. My cock throbs in my fist. With my other hand, I rub my abs and palm my balls and notice her eyes are locked on my dick. She licks her lips.

“Show me how you touch yourself, baby.”

At first, she puts on a show, gasping and moaning like a porn star. It’s hot, but I know she’s doing it for me, not herself. I let her keep going. She fingers herself, running the tip of her middle finger around and around her clit but never over it. After a while, she’s so turned on, she finally forgets about entertaining me. Her legs fall wide apart and her head falls back and her mouth falls open and now she’s just jacking off in silence, breathing deep and fast.

This is much hotter.

Her eyes are closed, so she flinches in surprise when I take a step forward and pull down the cups of her bra. Her beautiful brown breasts spill free. I lick one nipple while stroking the other with my fingers. She’s panting now. The garage heats up. A little sweat breaks out on her chest and forehead. I suckle her harder. The tips of her nipples harden like dark pearls. My kink shows itself—I imagine the taste of her milk on my tongue.

“We have to…we have to hurry,” she whispers. “I have to go back inside before they wake up.”

I stand up and dump my backpack on the workbench. Out of the mess, I dig out a condom, rip the package open, and roll it on. I grab her arms and pull her up. I give her one long, hungry kiss. I take one of her hands and slide her fingertips into my mouth. I take her other hand and put it to her lips.

“Taste yourself,” I whisper.

She opens her eyes and runs her tongue over the tip of her middle finger.

“What do you taste like?” I ask.

“Sweet,” she says.

Quickly, I turn her around and bend her over the narrow bed. She rests her hands on the thin mattress and arches her back. Between two perfectly smooth butt cheeks, I see the plump wet lips of her pussy and the tiny star of her ass.

I run my thumb lightly down her crack. “You know I’m a little kinky, right?”

She laughs, deep and rough. “I had a feeling.”

“You ever had it here?” I touch her asshole.

Her voice is soft. “No.”

“Want to try it?”

She looks at me over her shoulder. “Is it good?”

“It can be. If you do it right.” I stroke her a little bit. The slick hole tightens. “Later. We have lots of time to explore.” I put my hands on her hips and position the pulsing head of my cock between those beautiful wet lips. I take a breath. In one movement, I yank her backward at the same time I thrust forward into her. My dick goes deep. Her pussy grips me.

We moan. I ride her slowly, watching her ass jiggle every time I thrust into her. I grab the thick muscle of her ass cheek, pinch, let it go, and give it a hard spank with my open hand. She moans again and squeezes me hard. I gasp.

“Yes. God, yes.” She grips the pink bedsheets in her fists.

“Two months,” I say. “You’re going to get two months of hard fucking, Vanessa. Is that what you want?”

“Please.”

“I’m going to make you come until you don’t know which way the ground is. Which way the sky is.” I get my balance on the concrete floor, bend my knees, and change my angle. Now I’m pounding the front wall of her pussy with the head of my dick. Vanessa groans and arches harder, wiggling her ass against my abs. “You want that?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to show you what this beautiful body can do.” I spank her again and she clenches tight. I almost shoot off but I shut my eyes and fight off the orgasm. When I have a little control again at last, I reach forward and run my fingertips over her mouth. She parts her soft lips and I slide my index and middle fingers inside. Her hot tongue brushes my skin. “This mouth was made to be fucked,” I say. When my fingers are slick, I reach down between her legs and finally give her hard little clit the attention it deserves. When I rub her hard, she bucks—bucks like a bronco—and I wrap my arm around her waist to hold her still while I thrust into her.

“This pussy was made to be fucked, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“This pussy was made to come.”

“S-Sal.” Her voice is broken.

“Come for me, hermosa.”

With a grunt, she pushes herself against my hand and explodes. As soon as I feel the tremors, I shove my dick as high inside her as it will go. Her muscles ripple up and down the length of my shaft, squeezing me until I can’t hold back anymore. In the middle of her orgasm, I catch mine. I shut my eyes and let it wash over me, hot, wet, perfect.

When I can breathe again, I reach over the workbench, grab a few tissues, clean up, and toss the condom in the trash. Vanessa gets dressed and when I turn around, she’s wearing little flannel boxer shorts with hearts on them and a pink T-shirt that says world’s best mommy.

Again, I’m kind of kinky so I find this pretty hot.

Honestly, though.

Who am I kidding?

Every damn thing she does is hot.

She looks at my chest and laughs.

“What?” I look down.

Stuck to my right pectoral is one of the Post-it notes I used to sort the junk in the garage. It says, Looks useful. I pick it off and put it with the rest of the labels on the workbench.

“Do you find that funny, Vanessa Velasco? Have I been useful to you this morning?”

She sits back down on the bed and giggles. “Very useful.”

I like to see her laugh. I pick another one off the bench and stick it on me. “How about this label?” Looks important.

“Definitely important,” she says. “A very important person. VIP.”

Her cheeks are rosy. In the sunlight from the window, her dark eyes turn the color of honey. I switch labels again. “This one is better.” Trash but I’m not sure.

She shakes her head. “No. Not true.”

“Hmm.” I take off the label and put on one more. “This one seems right.” I don’t know what this is.

She laughs again, but when she looks up into my eyes, her smile fades a little. She holds out her arms. “Come here.”

I sit next to her on the bed. She climbs into my lap. The cheap bedframe snaps and screams but holds. She wraps her arms around me and kisses my mouth. I hold her hips and fall into her kiss. She’s unbelievably beautiful. Looking at her right now—relaxed and happy and freshly fucked—is like looking straight into the sun. I have to close my eyes.

A rattle by the bed makes us both jump. We break apart, afraid to get caught. We’re still for a second, and the workbench buzzes. I let out a breath. It’s my phone. We look at each other.

“Get it,” she says quietly. The expression on her face has changed. Suspicious.

“It can wait.”

“No, here.” She pulls away from me, stands up, picks up the phone and hands it to me. I notice she glances at the screen to see who it is, but it’s an unknown number.

Looking at her, I open up the cheap phone and take the call. “Hello?”

“Ghost.”

It’s Ruben. Shit. Vanessa pretends to straighten up the bedsheets, but she’s listening. “Hey,” I say. “What’s up?”

“Oye, Spider’s going to come see you.”

“Spider?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“I’m not sure. Soon.”

I’m almost certain this has to do with the Las Palmas kids shaking up Slim, but we never talk details over the phone. I nod before I realize Ruben can’t see me.

“Are you there?” he asks.

“I’m here.”

“That’s it. That’s all I wanted to tell you.” A TV is playing in the background, some kind of game show. I hear Ruben’s wife laugh. “You doing all right?” he asks. “You need anything?”

“No, no, man. I’m good.”

“All right. Take it easy, then.”

“I will.”

Ruben hangs up. I snap the phone closed and put it in my backpack. I pull on a pair of shorts and sit back down on the bed that Vanessa has just made for me. But the happy, relaxed expression on her face is gone. Now she’s like a shut door.

To my surprise, she doesn’t ask me any questions about the phone call. Instead she says, “Two months is nothing, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Life is long. Years and years. Two months goes like that.” She snaps her fingers.

I blink at her, confused.

She stands by the bed, reaches down, and touches my face. My stubble scrapes against her skin. Her small hand is cold. “You can stay out of trouble for two months.”

Guilt hits me like a dump truck. To distract her, I take her hand and kiss it. I pull her close and wrap my arms around her. “Don’t worry about me, baby.”

I hold her and kiss her softly until finally—finally—she relaxes again.

“You okay?” I whisper.

She nods.

When she leaves, she pushes the door shut hard until the latch clicks. I lie on my side and listen to the muffled sounds of the neighborhood waking up: cars passing on the street, doors opening and shutting, Muñeca chattering and skipping down the driveway on her way to school. On the floor next to my bed is that last wrinkled Post-it note.

I stare at it for a long time until I fall asleep.

I don’t know what this is.

---

I’m waiting at the bus stop when the skin prickles on the back of my neck. I know that feeling—trouble’s coming.

I look up from the brewing textbook Alan lent me. Cars pass on the street. An ancient cowboy pulls a Radio Flyer across to the other side of the street. It’s full of cactus paddles—nopales—probably cut from his backyard. Except for me and the old man, the sidewalks are empty.

I close the book and stash it in my backpack. I put up my hoodie and shove my hands in the pockets.

Trouble’s coming. Someone’s coming.

Thirty seconds later, they turn the corner and head for me in a slow shuffle. Three homeboys in white T-shirts and khakis. They’re Hollenbeck. I don’t recognize the two younger ones. But the third one I know well.

Demon was coming up around the time I was sentenced. He’s a full-fledged member now, Ruben’s fixer. He’s short but barrel-chested, pure muscle. His ears stick out a little—a characteristic that made him a target for bullies when we were little. These days he’s a true pelón, with a clean-shaved head and facial tattoos. He walks ahead of the other two like the lead dog. They follow his every move. As he comes closer, I catch the bump on his waistband. He’s strapped.

His temper gave him his name. I once watched Demon give a kid a concussion for buying him the wrong cigarettes. Before any of us could stop him, Demon grabbed the kid and slammed his head against the stucco wall of the liquor store. The kid wasn’t even in a rival gang. He was one of us. Demon took the full force of Ruben’s anger, but in the process he seemed to earn Ruben’s respect. Ruben is a calm, logical person. He started to use Demon like a weapon.

Demon and his two minions circle me slowly, lazily. I nod at them. They nod back.

The younger ones look to Demon for their cues. He puffs out his chest a little bit and fixes his crazy eyes on me. “Ghost,” he says.

He holds out his hand. Fist bump, chest bump. The other two copy him. Demon introduces them. “These mensos. Lil Man, Ray Ray.” They look me up and down. Neither of them looks older than seventeen. They don’t smile. I recognize their hard faces—I used to wear that mask.

“You two, pay attention. This here’s a soldier. A real soldado.” I can’t tell if Demon’s being funny or not, so I don’t say anything. “Watch this guy. Five years inside. Always down for HB.”

Like the old-timers we are, Demon and I do a quick roll call of all the homeboys we know, a list of who’s who and what’s what. Some are locked up. Some left the neighborhood. Some are dead. The two youngsters just stand there waiting, bored but patient.

“So, you ready?” Demon switches topics. His smile sharpens. “Ready for what comes next?”

The only thing I know is that Spider is coming to see me. “Yeah.”

“I hear you’re working. Ruben says you got two jobs.”

I nod.

“I hear you’re a really good janitor. On your knees. Scrubbing the floor.”

He’s annoying me on purpose. I have to cut him down a little. “You must hear a lot with those ears.”

Demon doesn’t miss a beat. “Sure do. I even hear you’re staying at Chinita’s.”

There it is.

Straight to the heart of what I’m afraid of.

“For now.” My voice is calm, but inside my anger bubbles up hot and fast. I’m not surprised that Demon knows where I’m staying. He keeps tabs on everyone for Ruben. But I don’t want to hear the truth aloud. More than that, I don’t want to get Chinita or Vanessa or, God forbid, Muñeca involved. They have nothing to do with this. Every protective muscle in my body flexes, and Demon knows it.

“How’s what’s her name? Vanessa?” His eyes widen and he sucks air between his teeth. “Goddamn, that bitch is fine. You tapping that?”

Before I can make the decision to rip his face off, my bus pulls up to the curb and the door opens. The bus driver, an older black lady, knows me. She makes eye contact with me, but she looks concerned. Standing together in a group, the tatted-up homeboys and me would scare even people familiar with this neighborhood. I nod at her.

“This is me.” I step past Demon and grip the straps of my backpack to keep from taking a swing at him.

He smiles. “See you around, Ghost.”

I climb on and the driver shuts the doors behind me. I exhale.

“Good evening,” the bus driver says. “You okay?”

Those are my homeboys. This is my hood. I should be okay. I even say, “Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks.”

My hand shakes as I tap my transit card on the reader. When I take my seat in the back of the bus, I silently pinch my arm until the tendon screams with pain, until the old bruise comes back like a dark shadow rising out of my skin.

One day passes, then two, then three. I work myself hard at both my jobs. I exercise until my body has no energy left to feed my anxiety. In the mirror at Defiance, the man staring back at me with the furious eyes is bigger and leaner than anyone who’s ever mad-dogged me before. Sweat drips off my skin. My lungs burn. I let the pain wash over me. “Pain is weakness leaving the body,” as the saying goes. My physical body is strong.

But my heart? My mind?

How do I strengthen those two things?

I don’t know.

All three mornings, Vanessa sneaks into the garage to meet me. We go at it fast and hot before she has to leave for work. I sleep with her scent on my skin.

On the fourth morning, Vanessa meets me on the driveway.

I glance at the house to make sure no one is watching. I scoop her up in my arms and spin her around.

“I’ve been thinking about you all night,” I whisper. “Get in there.”

“No.” She smiles.

“No?”

“Get some sleep. It’s Saturday. I have to study.”

“Study?” I kiss her again. In my mind, she’s wearing a little Catholic schoolgirl outfit. Short plaid skirt, little blouse, knee-highs—

“When you wake up,” she says, “come into the house and give me a study break.”

My dick presses against her. It wants its morning quickie. “How am I supposed to sleep when you say shit like that?”

“How are you supposed to sleep?” She reaches down and squeezes me. I growl. “By closing your eyes and counting sheep until you run out of them. One, two, three, four. Like that.”

I put her sassy ass down and obediently go into my cave. I set my alarm for exactly six hours. At one o’clock, I stomp into the kitchen, take a shower, and come out wearing a T-shirt and shorts. Chinita and Muñeca aren’t home. Only Chancla the evil wiener dog stands guard by the front window, cussing at anyone with the cojones to walk by.

“Vanessa?” I call. “You here?”

“Come upstairs.”

Hell yeah. I take the steps two at a time.