Chapter 9

St. Amaro’s is our local church, the place where everyone is baptized, married, and sent off to the pearly gates—or those other gates, depending on who we’re talking about. Hatched, matched, or dispatched, like the old-timers say. A one-stop shop. It’s been in the neighborhood for over a hundred years. The building has seen better days, but the parish is strong and growing.

Every year, the church holds a carnival to raise money for its youth programs. There was never enough money for my brothers and me to go to Disneyland or Knott’s Berry Farm or Six Flags, so the church carnival was our theme park, our wonderland.

Regina is right when she warns me the money won’t last. Between cotton candy, darts, and rides for three kids, sixty bucks is nothing. But when I see Spider’s kids running around the booths, playing with the Chinese finger traps and slap bracelets they got as consolation prizes, I see three happy faces, and the expense feels worth it. When the littlest one knocks out after a couple hours, I watch as Regina carries him home, the other two kids following close behind. Regina looks over her shoulder at me and gives me a sad smile. “Thanks, Ghost,” she says. “This was a good idea.”

I go back to the house. I’ve got a few hours before I have to catch my bus to work. It’s a warm evening and as I walk up the driveway, I see Vanessa sitting on the front porch steps with a glass of lemonade. She’s wearing office clothes—a black dress and heels.

“Hey,” I say. “You had work today?”

“A couple meetings. Restaurant people don’t really do weekends.” She looks at me over the rim of her glass. “What trouble have you been up to?”

“Just the carnival.” I sit next to her on the porch steps and tell her about Regina and the kids. “You want to take Muñeca up there?”

Vanessa shakes her head. “Maybe tomorrow. She’ll get too excited before bedtime. Chinita’s watching her now.”

Sunset has turned her eyes a golden brown. She’s wearing that string of pearls. If I touched it, it would be warm from her skin, and the thought makes me feel raw all over. “How about you? You want to go check it out with me?”

“What?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Come with me. Let’s walk around the carnival.”

“Are you kidding?” she says. “I’m not going over there. Like some stupid teenager.”

“What would you know about being a stupid teenager?”

“Enough.”

“But we were never really stupid teenagers.”

“Of course we were.”

“When? When did that happen? You were in school all the time, chasing those As. I had to look after my brothers with my dad gone all the time. When did we have time to be stupid?”

She looks at me and cocks an eyebrow.

I laugh. “I mean, stupid in the way normal people are stupid when they’re young.” I stand up and take her hand. “Come on.” She puts the empty glass down on the step. I can’t remember the last time I held hands with anyone, but this feels comfortable and strange at the same time. Her hand is soft and small, cold from holding her drink, and when she stands up I catch that strawberry and vanilla scent of her hair.

We stroll the two short blocks to the church and walk in through the gate. Even though I was just here, the sun’s gone down and now the rides are all lit up, a hundred colors. The littlest kids are gone and now it’s adults—well, adults pretending to be stupid teenagers, anyway.

We’re surrounded by people from the neighborhood, but Vanessa doesn’t take her hand out of mine. She’s not afraid of me, and just as important, she’s not afraid to be seen with me. Damn. Part of me wants to take out a bullhorn and announce, “Everyone. Look. Vanessa Velasco is holding my hand. You thought I was a just a lowlife. You were right, I am, but now this beautiful woman is holding my hand so it doesn’t really matter what you think.”

Goofy and a little light-headed, I lead her through the crowd. Without asking her, I buy her a churro. I let go of her hand to pay the vendor. I put the churro in her right hand and immediately take her left one again. “Eat it,” I say.

“It’s full of sugar. I’m on a diet.”

“Fuck your diet. Eat the goddamn churro,” I growl. I watch her as she takes a bite through her laughter. “How is it?”

“Hot. It’s good.”

“Let me try some.”

She’s short, so she holds the churro up high. “You’re so big,” she says. “You’re like this giant bear walking around a carnival.” Before I can take a bite, she shoves it in my face. I laugh. Sugar flies down my shirt and now we’re both giggling, hands still locked together. I wipe the sugar off with my arm and look down at her. Those rosy cheeks, those beautiful dark eyes, that deep honest laughter of hers. I want to kiss her so bad I hurt—like, physically, I hurt. Everything seems to disappear around us, blurring out while Vanessa comes into sharper focus.

We exchange a look. “You okay?” she asks.

“Kind of.”

“Easy, Ghost.” She pats my arm and turns toward the games. “Hey, win me something.”

She’s trying to distract me, and I let her. Because honestly, what man doesn’t like proving his masculinity with carnival games? I haven’t met one yet that doesn’t go completely stupid about these when it comes to impressing a girl. I reach into my wallet—that billfold’s getting very light—and put some money down for the attendant. He puts two softballs in front of me and gets out of the way. I pick up one of the balls.

Vanessa finishes off the churro and, because she’s a mean old thug on the inside, says, “I thought you were a catcher.”

“Just that one time,” I say. “It wasn’t so bad. I got six packages of ramen for it.”

“What flavor?”

“Spicy chicken.”

She snorts.

Salvador Rosas’s Book of Life Lessons, Volume One, Lesson One: Get yourself a girl who can joke about prison sex.

I wind up and throw the ball hard, hard enough that it makes a loud crack against the back wall. The milk bottles go flying off their little stand. Vanessa cheers. The bored-looking carny reaches up and pulls down the nearest stuffed toy, a Rastafarian penguin with sleepy eyes, a red, yellow, and green beret, and long woolly dreads.

“But I don’t want the Rastafarian penguin,” Vanessa says.

“Why not?” I ask. “It’s kind of funny.”

“I don’t want to explain weed to my kid just yet, okay?” she says.

The carny raises his eyebrows. “Which one, then?”

She points to the Hello Kitty in the far corner of the booth. The carny looks like he’s not going to do it but when I mad-dog him, he reaches for the metal hook behind the counter. With some effort, he gets Vanessa her Hello Kitty. She gives it a big hug before she takes my hand again. She’s so cute right now, twenty-two going on twelve.

“Did any of your Internet dates throw a softball hard enough to win you a Hello Kitty?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

I’ve got a few ride tickets left in my pocket so I lead her toward the Ferris wheel. We get on.

“We’re too big. It’s going to break,” she whispers, just like she did before getting on the swing set. “This thing is for little kids.”

When I sit down, something squeaks. I look at her worried face. To put her at ease, I swing the carriage back and forth. It creaks like an old pirate ship, but nothing bad happens. “See? We’ll be fine.”

The carny looks at me with a frown. “Sir, could you please stop that?”

I nod and settle down. “Oh, sorry, sorry.”

Vanessa shakes her head at me and sits down. The carny places the safety bar across our laps. Vanessa secures the Hello Kitty against the side of the carriage. I’m squished into my corner. I pull my arm free, lay it across Vanessa’s shoulders, and pull her in close. Now we’re comfortable. She cuddles against me, and now I know why the Ferris wheel is such a beloved ride.

The ride starts with a burst of music like a jack-in-the-box. We glide backward and over a couple of times. The Ferris wheel stops to let other passengers on. At the very top, our carriage swings back and forth before it goes still.

Now I can see my neighborhood from a different viewpoint, high above. The lights of the carnival are bright and beautiful. The smells of tacos, hot dogs, and popcorn fill my nose. People pack the church parking lot. Cars line the street, and in the surrounding houses, lights in the windows show where families are talking or watching TV or having dinner.

“How are you doing?” I ask.

“I’m all right.”

She’s looking at the same things I am. I wonder if she is seeing the same details. I stroke her hair and take another risk. “So what do you think?”

“About what?”

“Starting something with me?”

She takes a deep breath but doesn’t say anything.

“What are your doubts?” I say.

“Are you kidding?” She snorts. “You’re seriously asking me that?”

I laugh a little. “Okay, well. Besides the obvious.”

“You have your own life. I have mine. You’re trying to rebuild from the ground up. I’m trying to secure my daughter’s future. We’re heading in different directions.”

She isn’t wrong. Life has disappointed her in such deep and cruel ways, I don’t blame her for protecting herself. But even as she tells me this—the truth about how we’re not right for each other—I feel how right it is to talk to her, to hold her hand, to show her who I am. “I have an idea,” I say. “Probation.”

“What?”

“I’m only around for two months, right?”

“Right.”

“Spend those two months with me.” I look into her eyes. “I want to be with you, Vanessa.”

“Sal—”

“I’ll be gone before I have a chance to disappoint you.” When the words leave my mouth, I try to ignore how pathetic they sound. “We’re adults, not dumb kids. We won’t lose our heads.” I run my fingers through her silky hair. “I swear to God, every time I look at you, I feel…” I reach for the most honest word I can find. “Thirsty.”

Vanessa says nothing but shivers under my touch.

I hear a distant car alarm, a barking dog, and kids laughing. Dull orange streetlights shine on the trees in the park. I can see the inky black lake through their branches. Next to me, Vanessa is warm and alive. She’s letting me hold her and I can feel her breathing. I take a deep breath and think, This is home. For better or worse, this is my home, it is me and I am it.

“It’s nice up here, ain’t it?” I whisper.

She nods. “Yeah.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking you’re crazy.”

“That’s because I am.”

Those dark eyes burn into me, full of challenge. “Tell me something.”

“Anything.”

“Are you sleeping around? Am I just another ride in your carnival? Ferris wheel, bumper cars, carousel?”

I smile. “Say yes to this, and you’ll be the only one I’ll ride.”

She snorts. “Jackass.”

“What else do you want to know?”

“Prisons are filthy. Have you been tested?”

She’s right to ask. “Once when I got out. Once last May.”

“Last May? Why?”

“The last woman I slept with had some kind of scare and asked me to get tested a week after we were together, so I did. All clear. I haven’t touched anyone since.” Not true—I touch myself, but I leave that part out.

“You haven’t had sex in three months? Why not?” She looks at me skeptically.

I shrug. “No time. Extra shifts, more work. I need that money.” I brush my thumb against her jaw. “You?”

Her smile fades a little. “It’s embarrassing.”

Vanessa Velasco, embarrassed? In front of me? “The things I’ve done versus the things you’ve done?” I say. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

She rests her cheek against my shoulder and closes her eyes. “I’m ashamed to say it out loud.”

“Say it, and see how you feel afterward.”

She takes a deep breath. “Five years.”

I blink. What? How could a fine-ass woman in the prime of her life, who looks like a walking wet dream only hotter, live celibate as a nun for five years? I’m speechless. Then I realize—it’s Sleepy. She’s been faithful to her husband. A sudden ache in my heart surprises me, and I say the first word that pops into my mind: “Fuck.”

“I’ve had lots of opportunities,” she says softly, “but none of them felt right.”

I can understand that. “How about me? Do I feel right?”

When she looks up at me, the lights of the Ferris wheel sparkle in her dark eyes like stars. Her voice is so soft the wind almost takes it away. “Two months?”

I reach forward and cup her cheek in my hand. Her skin is soft. I trace the tip of my thumb across her cheekbone, back and forth. “Two months.” Her skin is delicate, smooth and brown—even darker than mine.

“My kid can’t know there’s anything going on between us.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t play with me. Don’t lie to me. When it’s done it’s done.”

“Okay.”

She takes my hand. “Two months.”

We’re quiet for a long time. The lights flash pink and green.

“I’m going to make my move now,” I whisper.

“Now?”

“Now.”

I close my eyes and hold my breath. When we kiss at last, I’m surprised that what we share is quiet, shy, and polite. Vanessa’s mouth is small but her lips are full and firm. She tastes like cinnamon and sugar. I can feel the grit of a grain of sugar on the corner of her lips and quickly, I lick it away with the tip of my tongue.

When I do this, a sound like a sigh comes from her throat. I put my hand on the back of her neck and pin her gently against me. I’m hot—hot all over. She’s trembling. I can feel her hands rise up and rest on my chest. She’s rubbing me through the cotton of my T-shirt. I flex a little into her palms, gratified when I hear her make that same sound again. She likes touching me. Good.

When Vanessa opens her mouth just a tiny crack, I swear invisible sunlight washes over me, bathing me with her heat. I’m under her spell. The kiss is so good, we don’t stop. We keep going even when the Ferris wheel begins spinning again. The ride picks up speed and a cool wind blows over us. The metal carriages creak and groan, the tin-can jack-in-the-box song repeats itself. My eyes are still closed, so I seem to feel, hear, and taste everything at a higher level. Whether I’m dizzy because of the ride or because of Vanessa, I don’t know. I don’t care.

All of a sudden the carnival is a wonderland again, and I’m lost in it, lost in its pleasures.

That first kiss is followed by another, and another. Vanessa lets me kiss her when we get off the Ferris wheel. We stroll along the crowded walkway next to the line of carnival rides. We hold hands and don’t care who sees us, which is strange to me, because everyone here knows us. I think back to what she said about being told who she is—a nerd, a whore, a failure—and I see the truth. She really doesn’t care what people call her or think of her. I wonder if I’ll ever be in that position and what it will take to get me there.

Until then, I hold her hand like a balloon I don’t want to lose.

If there ever was a moment for happiness, almost pure happiness, I’m thinking this is it. I was locked up at nineteen and didn’t breathe fresh air until twenty-four. It’s like I died and came back to life, and here at the gates of the cemetery is this angel I couldn’t even dream up, she’s that perfect.

My angel is walking around in black high heels.

“Don’t your feet hurt?” I ask.

She shrugs. “I’m used to it.”

“I didn’t ask if you’re used to it, I asked if they hurt.”

“I guess so. But I’m used to it, like I said.”

She’s wearing a black dress with no sleeves and that pearl necklace. “Ain’t you cold?” I wish I had a jacket to put on her.

“I’m not cold. It’s summer. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Will you stop?”

“Stop what?”

“Fussing over me?”

“Am I fussing?” I guess I am. “I just want you to be comfortable.”

We take another lap around the parking lot and it feels too small. I want it to be big, big like a football field, big like the whole world, so that I can keep walking with Vanessa.

She says, “Hey, I want another.”

“Another what? Churro? Hello Kitty? Name it.”

“A kiss.”

“Coming right up.”

I lean down and give her a sweet one. I nip at her bottom lip and she grips me tighter.

“I want more of you,” I whisper in her ear.

“Oh yeah?”

“Take me upstairs with you. The bedroom.”

“My bedroom? Ha, no.”

I’m not going to ask her to meet me in the garage. Even I have my limits. But when? And where? My brain races. Trying to impress a lady when you have no money in your pocket is difficult at best. Then I get an idea.

“Okay.” I look at my phone for the time. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“What I do every night.” She rolls her eyes. “I study, do housework, and watch my kid.”

“Does Chinita have anything tomorrow night? Cards, bingo?”

“Sunday night? No.”

“Ask her to watch Muñeca. I want to take you with me.”

“Where?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

She frowns at me. “Where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Ah, no. Forget surprises. I don’t like surprises.”

“You’ll like this one, baby. I promise.”

I kiss her again, right on her frown, and turn her back toward the wall so that I can reach down and sneak a feel of her ass. Through the thin fabric of her skirt, I can feel the skinny straps of her thong. She steps closer to me, pressing her body against my hard-on and pinning it between us.

“Easy,” she whispers. “You’re going to get us both arrested.”

I laugh against her lips. “Not me. Just you. Arrested for looking so damn fine.”

Lights from the rides around us wash over her face—pink, blue, green, gold. “You are so cheesy,” she says.

I’m about to lean down and kiss her again when I feel a sudden tap on my shoulder. I jump backward, angry at myself that I let someone get the drop on me. It’s an old habit, keeping my head on a swivel, and here I am, not paying attention. This is deep in ESHB territory but still. Still.

Behind me is not a gangster but a small skinny man in dark green coveralls. I recognize him—Miguel, the church groundskeeper. He’s worked at the church forever. He’s in his forties but he looks much older, and he has a facial tic that causes him to blink a lot, like he’s got something in his eyes or someone is shining a bright light in his face.

“Salvador,” he says in a small voice, “I’m sorry to bother you, you and your, your lady here. Hello, miss.”

Reluctantly, I let go of Vanessa, reach over, and shake his hand. It’s like a bundle of sticks. “How are you doing, Miguel?”

“Okay, okay,” he says. “I saw you here earlier and I wanted to give you something, but you left before I had the chance.” He’s wearing a utility belt and attached is a big ring of keys. He reaches down and detaches it. “Your father—I was so sorry to hear about your father. I hope they find him. I hope he turns up.”

I nod. Even here in Wonderland, I can’t escape the truth. To be polite, I say, “Yeah, thank you. I hope so too.”

Miguel’s hands have a slight tremor. “Before I went into rehab, your father became one of my good friends. We spent some time together, and I have a lot of respect for him. A lot, Salvador. He’s a nice guy.”

Rehab? So Miguel and Dreamer used to shoot up together. “Yup. Sure.”

The keys jangle like bells as Miguel’s skinny, shaky hands pull a smaller key ring free. “I’ve been keeping this with me, just as a reminder of him. He forgot his keys at my place a few days before he disappeared. I didn’t want to get rid of them, but I didn’t know who to give them to until I saw you today. They might be important.”

He hands over the smaller ring. There are three keys there, two ordinary-looking house keys and one smaller key, maybe to a padlock. Vanessa and I look at the keys and at each other. She knows I can see his ghost in them, my father’s ghost, in these everyday objects he probably touched a thousand times and carried in his pocket like coins.

“Anyhow, that’s all I wanted to tell you.” Miguel tips the brim of his baseball cap and nods to himself. “I hope they find him, Salvador. I hope he’s okay.”

I shake Miguel’s hand again and the groundskeeper walks away, a nervous bouncy walk that jangles the remaining keys on his belt. I slip the small key ring into my pocket.

“That was weird,” I say to Vanessa. She’s cradling and petting the Hello Kitty in her arms like it’s a real cat. Her own nervous energy is coming out as she studies my face. “How are you doing?”

I shrug. The conversation leaves me with a weird, unsettled feeling in my stomach. “All right, I guess.”

We head back to the house. “Was your dad always on drugs?” Vanessa asks.

I’m not surprised by her direct question. That’s her style. “Not always. Just after my mom and sister died. On and off. I guess it got really bad when Eddie and me got our asses locked up.”

“I don’t recall a time when my mom was clean,” she says quietly. “Sleepy struggled with it even before we got together. It got him, eventually. Me, I won’t get near it. No needle, no pipe, no pills. Weed was as far as I’d go.”

“Same,” I say.

“ESHB was always here,” she says. “Abuelita told me the gang helped the community a lot back in the day. When people couldn’t trust the cops. When businesses needed protection from other gangs. When there was no one else to go to, varrio Hollenbeck had our backs.” She pauses. “But then the drugs came. And the guns.” She squeezes my hand, and I feel her pain. “I wish they hadn’t.”

I’m quiet. The cars Eddie and I stole for the gang—those were a drop in the bucket. Drug sales are ESHB’s lifeblood. The gang taps money from the streets and sends it up to the Organization. Our operation is lucrative, in the millions. But the price? Violence and an uneasy peace with our product. Ruben once said to me, “If not us, then who? Don’t fool yourself, mi’jo. Our neighborhood is safer when we have control of it.”

“Do you ever think of moving out? Leaving Hollenbeck?” I ask Vanessa.

“I thought a lot about it when my daughter was born. We could’ve sold the house and left.”

“Why didn’t you?”

She squeezes my hand again. “Because this is my home,” she says. “A lot of good people live and work here. Generations and generations have raised their families here. We’re a part of this neighborhood as much as any gang.”

I walk Vanessa up to the front porch. The empty lemonade glass is still on the front step. I pick it up and hand it to her. She pulls me in for one more kiss. Her hands are full so I take the opportunity to touch her face and her throat, to stroke the back of her neck underneath her dark hair, to run my fingertips over the warm, smooth pearls of her necklace. Her skin is hot. I slip her a little tongue and she does the same to me, and we stroke each other with the tips of our tongues, learning each other’s flavor. I’m so turned on I’m half crazy, a heartbeat away from grabbing her and carrying her off into the shadows, when I hear the little paws and storm of barks behind her.

Chancla charges and mashes his evil face against the screen door. Muñeca follows behind him and comes outside, blocking the dog from escaping and mauling me.

“Mommy!” Muñeca holds her arms out. She’s wearing her pajamas.

Vanessa hugs her. “Hello, mi’ja. Ready for your bedtime story?”

The girl’s eyes are on me as she nods.

“Did you see what Sal got for you?” Vanessa holds up the Hello Kitty. “It’s not your birthday or Christmas. It’s a special surprise gift.”

Muñeca grabs the stuffed cat and squishes it just like Vanessa did when I won it for her. Vanessa leans down and kisses the top of Muñeca’s head.

The moment feels like it should be private, and yet it’s not. Vanessa is including me in it, and I feel welcome. I feel right.

Time is passing even though I don’t want it to. “I’d better get going if I’m gonna make my bus,” I say quietly.

“What do you say to Sal?” Vanessa whispers to the little girl.

“Thank you!” Muñeca says, kissing Hello Kitty’s yellow nose.

“Thank you,” Vanessa echoes. “That’s right. Thank you, Sal.”

I walk down the porch steps and look up at Vanessa. “See you tomorrow night?”

Muñeca holds on to Vanessa’s skirt and gives me the same direct stare as her mother’s.

“Tomorrow night,” Vanessa says. “Okay.”