Flee (18 page)

I nodded. Of course I could be that for her. I just hated that I had to.

Blake

I sat cross-legged on Mateo's floor, staring at the box in front of me. Mateo was still in the kitchen, helping his mom wash the supper dishes. They had shooed me out of the room, and I had found myself here. I didn't want Mateo to see how hard this was for me. I knew that would cause him pain, too, so I was hoping I could open the boxes and pull an item or two out before he got here. Maybe desensitize myself to the pain. I took a deep breath and tried to brace myself. This was going to be like resetting a badly healed broken bone.

Doodles had followed me into the room and plopped himself down on the ground beside me. I grabbed a tuft of his hair and clenched it in my fingers, like someone in an old movie would bite down on a stick to have a bullet removed. Doodles flinched but didn't move. He seemed to know I needed him. He rested his chin in my lap. With my free hand, I opened the first box and reached in.

“Okay, boy, we can do this.” My hand closed on something cold and small and hard and I pulled it out.

“Oh.” I examined the small ceramic football helmet. It was lopsided and out of proportion, the face mask too large. I remembered how it sat on Dad's desk, leaning forward on the mask with the helmet dangling a half-inch in the air. I'd been so proud of that helmet. I'd worked on it two weeks in art in the third grade, trying to get it just right, using the lead on my pencil to carve my dad's football number onto the side. When Mrs. Clement had placed it on a tray with the rest of the class's creations to carry to the kiln, I must have asked her ten times to be careful and not drop it. It had been my Father's Day gift to him that year, and Dad had not disappointed me with his reaction. He had kept it on his desk in his home office ever since, even after I had grown embarrassed by its poor workmanship and had asked him to throw it away.

“Not on your life, Blakesy.”
I could almost hear his voice in my ear now, warm and loving.
“I'll love it forever just like I'll love you forever.”

“Love you too, Dad,” I whispered and then quickly wiped the tears off of my face as I heard Mateo approach.

“You started without me?” His voice was surprised, concerned. I saw his eyes fall on the object in my hand and watched him smile. I wanted to trace the dimples in his cheeks. That was good. I could still concentrate on other things, on my life in the here and now. I wasn't consumed by grief. Maybe this wasn't going to be as hard as I thought. I held up the helmet.

“As you can clearly see, I used to be quite the ceramic artist.”

“Yeah, I'm sorry you gave that up,” he replied sarcastically, but his eyes were gentle.

“May I?” He took the helmet when I nodded and looked at it for a second, and then placed it on his desk on a stack of papers, just like it had sat on Dad's. A lump rose in my throat. I ignored it and shoved my hand back in the box. Mateo sat beside me. I let go of Doodles, who whimpered and moved quickly away, and grabbed hold of Mateo. This time, my hand enclosed on what felt like a picture frame. I pulled it out without looking, handing it to Mateo. He looked at it quietly for a minute without speaking.

“I'm guessing this is your dad? Maybe in college?” I looked at it then. I knew the picture. There was nothing to be scared of there.

“Yeah, that's him in those goofy white shorts. And those are his college poker buddies.”

In the photograph, Dad sat around a poker table with four other guys. They were all laughing and holding cards, a ring of cigar smoke filling the air. I had been fascinated by this picture when I was little. Dad looked so funny in it. His hair was long and bushy, his shorts too small and too short. I had seen boxers with better coverage. The cigar hanging out of his mouth had both amused and horrified me.
My dad, smoking
? I had never seen him do that, although I knew he regularly received a box of imported cigars in the mail.

Joe was in the photo, and he looked funny also, like his hair had been permed. The other guys, Dad had once told me, were Jeff, Steve, and the one they called El Torro. You couldn't see El Torro's face. His back was to the camera and he was hunched over his cards, as if protecting them from the photographer. Dad had told me his nickname, translated, meant the bull, and as a child I had imagined him with a bullish face, complete with a ring through his nose. I had always wished, when studying the photograph, that he would turn around and give me a glimpse of that face.

“Dad remained friends with these guys all of his life. That's Joe, there,” I said pointing, and Mateo laughed. “I've met Jeff before. He lives in Dallas now. And Steve came to the funeral. El Torro used to send Dad packages of cigars in the mail from time to time.”

“El Torro, huh?”

“They were always marked with his nickname. I don't know his real name. He even sent flowers to the funeral signed
El Torro
. Dad said these guys were the best friends he ever had.” My voice was wistful now. It made me a little sad to look at the picture and imagine my dad so carefree. I was glad he hadn't known how his life would end.

Mateo continued to study the picture, and I put my hand back in the box. I was feeling a little bold now. This wasn't so horrible. Of course the items in Dad's office were not the most personal and potentially painful ones I had to face. They were a good place to start. This time my hand enclosed on a wooden box. I pulled it out, knowing already what it was.

“This is a cigar box from El Torro.”

I remembered the day it had arrived, barely over a year ago. Usually cigars from The Bull Man, as I thought of him, arrived in disposable packaging. But this intricately decorated box had intrigued Dad. He'd turned it over and over, finally disappearing into his office and shutting the door. After his death, I found it in his locked safe. Half of the cigars were still in it. I had grabbed it and thrown it into the box impulsively. “It came about this time last year, near Halloween.”

Mateo took the box, a curious look on his face. Like Dad, he turned it over and over. “I've seen something like this before,” he said. “They sell boxes like this back home. They look like cigar boxes and do hold cigars.” He lifted the lid, examining the contents. “But they also have a hidden drawer.”

He flipped the box over, tugging on first one end and then the other. From the right side of the box, a small drawer pulled open. Mateo reached in and pulled out a small, tightly folded piece of paper. I gasped. This had to be important. Why else had the cigar box been in Dad's safe? It wasn't exactly a humidor in there. Mateo carefully unfolded the paper, studying the words for several minutes.

“Bingo,” he quietly whispered, his voice low and shocked.

“What is it?” I was afraid to look, wondering what horrible secret might be contained on it. I knew it was bad, though. It had led to the deaths of my parents.

“I need to know everything you know about El Torro,” Mateo suddenly said. He was already pulling his cell phone from his pocket. He started to dial and then stopped when he saw the expression on my face. He placed the phone on his desk and took me in his arms.

I was trembling, completely freaked out again.

“I'm sorry, Blake. I'm getting ahead of myself.” He patted my back softly with one hand. He still had the paper clenched in his other. “I need to study it further, but this seems to be a map for an elaborate drug route, along with directions to storage facilities along the route, secret passages, safe contacts, and some upcoming dates. I've seen something like this before, unfortunately. That's how I recognize it. What I need to find out is who is El Torro, why did he send this information to your dad, and what did your dad do with it? I'm guessing it's Las Lunas information since that's who killed your parents, but right now I have more questions than answers. I'm hoping Hector and Thomas can help us fill in some gaps. Are you okay with going and talking to Hector?”

I nodded yes and numbly let him pull me from the room.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Hector and Foster immediately got to work with the new information. Mateo even called Thomas and got him investigating things on that end. I told them everything I knew about El Torro, which wasn't much. His packages had never even had a return address. At ten o'clock, yawning and weary, I clutched the picture to my chest in Mateo's truck as he drove me back to the Williamses'. I knew Mary and the kids would be asleep, but we were hoping Joe would still be awake so we could ask him about the photograph.

****

Joe sat in the dark in the living room, watching a recording of the last game of the season, played just two nights ago. It had been a close one, and if we'd won we would have played in the first round of the play-offs this week. A 4-4 season was not what Joe had hoped for, but respectable for a rebuilding year. Still, I knew he was having a hard time accepting that loss. He hated the end of football season. He paused the replay when we walked in.

“Hey, kids. How are ya?”

“Good, Joe. How was your day?” I had left for Mateo's early that morning. Mary and Joe were used to my absences on the weekends. I wanted to give them time alone as a family, and I also just preferred being with Mateo.

“It was good. I took Benji to see that new animated movie while Grace and Mary took a nap. I think I enjoyed it as much as he did. It's nice to have some more time to spend with the family.” Unlike Joe, Mary rejoiced when football season was over. She got her husband and father of her children back.

“What did you two do?”

“Just hung out at Mateo's, nothing much. I did get the guts to pull a few things out of one of my boxes.”

Joe and Mary knew I had taken the boxes to Mateo's. I had told them I couldn't stand to look at them anymore and they hadn't asked any questions.

“I wanted to ask you about this.” I handed him the picture frame.

He studied it and chuckled. “Holy crap, look at my hair. If only I still had enough now to perm. I can't believe I ever did that to myself. But big hair was in, and I wasn't one to be left out. Good thing I didn't meet Mary back then. She would have never gone out with me.” He continued to study the picture, smiling at old memories.

“Your dad was almost religious about his poker night. Did you know that? It's funny I'm even in this picture. This was the only time I was ever allowed to participate. I'm a terrible poker player, but they needed a last minute sub that night. I'd always been irritated that I had been excluded, but that night I lost so much money, and then went home and puked from inhaling all of that foul smoke, that I was happy to never be asked again.”

“Dad always said the guys in this picture were the best friends he would ever have. Did you know those other guys well?” I tried to sound casual. I didn't want Joe to know I was fishing for information.

Mateo remained quiet and still beside me, but I could tell he was tense, waiting for information that would somehow help.

“Sure. Jeff and Steve were on the football team with us. Jeff was a back-up receiver to your dad. They practiced a lot together and were pretty close. Steve was on the O-line. You can see why. Bear of a man. And a real hoot. He always had us laughing about something.” Joe paused while we waited, practically holding our breath, for him to continue.

“I'm trying to remember what this guy went by,” he said, tapping the glass over El Torro. “He wasn't on the team. I only met him that one night, although your dad talked about him a lot. They met in a business class or something. I don't think I ever knew what his real name was. Your dad always called him by some crazy Spanish nickname he'd given him. He was from Mexico. I got the impression that night we played that he was some wonder child from a moneyed family. He was a shrewd one. Wiped me clean of all I had in my shallow pockets. But a true gentleman. At the end of the night he quietly handed me an envelope containing all of my losses. I guess he could tell I needed that money. I never saw him again, but I know he and your dad kept up. He used to mail your dad some of the best cigars I ever had.” Joe was getting emotional. I knew he had loved Dad like a brother. He cleared his throat and looked the other way.

“How ‘bout that game, sir.” Mateo had noticed Joe's emotion also. He pointed to the TV screen in an effort to distract him. “That was a hard loss to swallow.”

“I still can't swallow it,” Joe returned, his face now animated as he began to recount what went wrong. He was getting into what Mary called
the football zone,
and I knew I was too tired to go there with him. I squeezed Mateo's hand and whispered goodnight, leaving him to listen. He winked at me, and I walked to my room, comforted to know he would be close by as I fell asleep.

Blake

Callie lay across my bed on her back, patiently enduring the clumsy wrap job I was giving her.

“This has got to be one of the dumbest ideas you've ever had,” I grumbled. “Seriously, out of all the costumes in the world, you have to be a mummy. How're you going to move, let alone dance?”

I was irritated. Come to think of it, I had been irritated off and on all day. Currently that irritation was directed at Cal. We were on the twenty-sixth roll of gauze, and my hands ached from the last hour of wrapping it around every part of her body below her neck. At least she had had the sense to keep her head uncovered. Or on second thought, maybe I should cover that too. Her make-up job, which she described as
the sexy dead look
was over the top. Seriously, where did she come up with this crap?

“I'll be able to move. You aren't wrapping me that tightly. Besides, admit it, this is a cool idea. No one else will be able to pull this off. I'll be one of a kind.”

“Everyone else has more sense,” I returned. “And no one else has a friend as gullible as me, willing to spend hours wrapping your sorry butt in all this gauze.” I sighed as I came to the end of another roll, taping it securely in place and reaching for roll number twenty-seven. We had gone to three different drug stores to find enough. “What's Chad going as?”

“A grave digger.” She giggled at her own joke, and I glanced at the clock. Chad and Mateo were due to pick us up in forty-five minutes, and I had not begun to get dressed. Thank goodness, I was almost done with her mummification. She wiggled, tearing a piece of the wrapping, and I sighed.

“If you don't hold still I will remove your brain though your nostrils.”

“Sorry,” she replied. “You're almost done. I'll help you get ready. We'll make it on time.

“We better, or I guess I'll be going as sweaty, irritated teenage girl in last season's jeans.”

“Oh, the scandal,” Callie said dramatically, rolling her eyes. “You're going to be stunning, as always. You and Mateo will steal the show. In case you didn't know, you're one of the hottest couples around.”

“Hmmph.”
I could agree with her halfway. Mateo was beautiful and never failed to attract attention when we were out, which I admit wasn't often. We were both humoring Callie by going to this party. It was at Chad's house and she had begged us to attend. We agreed that we would rather stay home and hand out candy to trick-or-treaters. It was easier than coordinating a whole team of protective personnel. How did celebrities ever go anywhere? But it was important to Callie and Chad that we be there, and neither of us was willing to hurt their feelings by being no-shows.

Our costumes were half-hearted at best. Mateo had refused every idea I'd thrown at him, beginning with Tarzan and Jane:
"You're seriously asking me to walk around all night in a loin cloth?"

He had laughed at my resounding "
Yes!
"

Then Edward and Bella:
"I look bad in red lipstick"
; and then Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet:
"No breeches!"
He'd finally agreed to be Johnny Cash: "
The man in black? I can pull that off. I'll just borrow from Hector's daily wardrobe,"
which left me as June Carter Cash. I had found a vintage 60s dress in a resale shop on SoCo, and Callie was going to help me rat my hair into a modified bouffant. It really wouldn't take very long, if Callie could still move her arms when I was done with her.

“Tell me again why Chad is throwing this party?” I asked, wrapping gauze around her right ankle, thankful that I was almost done. I'd probably get carpal tunnel from this.

“Oh, come on!” Callie replied. “You guys aren't any fun. You hardly ever go out anywhere. Is it going to kill you to attend one party? It's Halloween, for crying out loud.”

I didn't respond. After all, what could I say?
You wouldn't go out either if it involved a whole security detail?
Besides, I didn't need to go out to have fun. I just needed to be with Mateo.

“There, you're done,” I said, securing the last piece of tape and rubbing my right wrist with my left hand. “I'm exhausted. Do I have time for a nap?”

“Don't be silly,” Cal said, jumping off the bed and flexing her arms to test the strength of the wrappings. “Perfect. They're securely in place, and I can still move without tearing them.”

I had to admit, now that she was standing and I got the full view, she did look great. The sexy dead look worked for her.

“Awesome!” Callie looked at herself in the full-length mirror on the closet door. “Now let's do you.”

We worked with the remaining time we had, and when Chad and Mateo arrived, I looked as similar to June Carter as I was ever going to get. I liked the dress I was wearing. The full, swirly skirt was fun. Why had petticoats gone out of style? The stilettos, on the other hand, were not going to last long. Those women of the 1960s were tough. I longed for my flip-flops.

Chad looked great, in tattered jeans smeared with dirt and a button-down work shirt that read
Thompson's Funeral Parlor
. His face and even his hair were dirty, but somehow he'd managed to make it look attractive. He was carrying a shovel for effect. Mateo, standing behind him, winked at me.

“Hello, I'm Johnny Cash,” he said in a low bass voice. Our costumes weren't lame after all if they made Mateo look like that. He looked good. No, he looked
great
all in black. His dark jeans and belt and shirt with the pearl snap buttons were perfect with his skin color and dark hair. He even had a guitar strapped across his back.

“That's a good look for you. You should raid Hector's closet more often.”

He rolled his eyes and stepped closer to whisper. “You're absolutely breathtaking, as usual. And I love you in heels. Very appealing.”

I looked at the offensive shoes and my opinion toward them softened. I guess my grandmother's generation had been on to something, after all. I could endure a little torture for a reaction like that.

“Which reminds me,” he continued, flipping his guitar around to the front and pulling free a perfect white rose that had been tucked underneath the strings. “For you.”

I took the rose, understanding its message. White. Purity. I should have had him dress as a knight in shining armor, and I could have been the forbidden princess with the chastity belt. I was both frustrated and awe-struck by the way he treated me.

Mateo glanced at his watch, and then at Callie and Chad who were standing on the front porch handing out candy to a tiny robot and what appeared to be a walking fruit roll-up.

“It's time to go, guys.
' I hear a train a'comin'…'
”

We all moaned and started down the front sidewalk just as Joe and Mary returned with Benji and Grace from their neighborhood trick-or-treating. Benji, dressed as a dinosaur, of course, saw Mateo and ran straight for him, leaping into his arms. Mateo feigned fear.

“Someone help me. I'm being attacked by a viscous T-Rex.” He tickled Benji, who wiggled and laughed, his candy spilling out of his plastic pumpkin.

“I'm not a t-wex! I'm a velociwapta!”

“Oh, even worse. How will I ever survive?”

They continued to wrestle, and I reached to take baby Grace, who was dressed as a tiny angel, her fat cheeks positively cherubic.

“You all look so good!” Mary said, reaching for the camera strapped to her wrist. “Benji, stop attacking Mateo and let me get a picture of everyone.”

We all gathered together, mummy and gravedigger, Johnny and June, angel and dinosaur. Mateo had Benji around his neck, and I held sweet baby Grace, breathing deeply to take in her powdery scent, hoping it would wash away my unexplained grumpiness. I snuggled into Mateo's side and turned to see him looking at me, a smirk on his face. A powerful surge of emotion swept through me. Suddenly, my man in black really was my prince and despite the bouffant hair, I was his princess. And I knew that I was standing smack dab at the beginning of my happily ever after.

Mary snapped the picture and the spell was broken. She insisted on several more, and we all posed patiently in the different combinations she requested. Chad and Callie. Mateo and me. All four of us. Mateo with Benji. Me with Grace. Me with Callie. Finally, Joe intervened.

“Come on, Mare. Let the kids get to their party. It won't look good if Chad is late to his own gig. Mateo, it's a school night. Have Blake back by eleven, or its Folsom Prison for you.” He laughed at his own joke, and we all groaned again. It was going to be a long night if that kept up.

We got to the party only five minutes before the first guest arrived. By 8:30, Chad's living room and back deck were covered by costumed students dancing and talking. The more crowded and chaotic it became, the more nervous Mateo got. He wouldn't let me out of his sight, and he didn't like that so many guys were masked and unidentifiable. I reminded him that allowed several security guards to mingle with no one being the wiser, but this didn't comfort him. At least Danny was identifiable in his clown costume. Mateo had laughed at that one. “Finally, he gets something right.”

By 9:30 I could tell Mateo had had enough. “You know where I want to go?” I practically shouted to be heard above the thumping music.

“To Jackson?” he asked, his eyes twinkling. I had to admit he was making an effort, even though I knew he was hating this.

“Ha. No, I want to go home.”

I meant his house. I didn't live there, but it was home to me. I always referred to Joe and Mary's house as Joe and Mary's.

“Sounds great,” he replied. “Only problem is, I think my truck is blocked in.” He looked around the party, noting the two incognito guards, as well as Callie and Chad, dancing in the middle of a big group of people. He also located Danny, talking to several girls in the corner of the backyard deck. “Why don't I go try to free it and you can say our goodbyes to Cal and Chad.” He nodded subtly to the closest guard, a guy I knew as Nick who was dressed as Darth Vader, and turned to go. “Stay out of trouble.”

I bristled, but he had already turned and didn't notice. It seemed, after a brief reprieve, that my irritable mood from earlier had returned. Honestly, I was way over having every move I made watched. Now that we knew the motive behind my parents' death, it seemed there was no more threat. They had been killed because my father had dangerous information. The flow of that information had been stopped. Problem solved, at least for Las Lunas. I wasn't scared my life was in danger. I was mad. No, that word didn't begin to sum it up. I was beyond infuriated, and not just at the actual hit man or the whole Las Lunas organization, but also at whomever this El Torro turned out to be. How dare he endanger my parents' lives? And why? If I ever did see his bullish face, he would be lucky if all I did was spit in it.

Turning, I began to try to fight my way through the dancers to Callie. It was slow going. Chad's deck wasn't huge, and the small area forced very close proximity. I found myself being jostled in the opposite direction of my intended goal, Nick — Darth Vader stuck way behind me. I tried to fight my way back, and the heel of my stiletto stuck between the planks of the deck. Falling, I reached out to grab whatever was closest, and my hand enclosed around someone's outstretched arm.

“Thanks,” I said, looking up. Danny looked back at me, smiling and steadying me with his other hand. Yikes. How had he gotten here so fast?

“My pleasure,” he returned. “Where's your bodyguard?”

How did he… oh, he meant Mateo.

“He keeps you on a short leash. I'm surprised to find you so far away from his side. This must be a first.”

“I'm not on a leash. I just enjoy being with him.” I said, looking around and trying to find an open space to move away. The crowd was all around us, dancing and laughing and yelling to be heard above the music. There was no break in it.

“You want out of here?” Danny asked. He took my arm when I nodded, pulling me through as he cleared a path. He was taller and bigger than me, and just more forceful than I would have been. Finally, I found myself at the back of the deck, the darkest corner out there.
Great
.
Mateo is going to freak
. Danny looked at me and smiled. He was already very popular at school, but I'd only had a few conversations in class with him. I didn't think Mateo had said one word to him since that first meeting.

“So, now that I have you out here practically in the dark all alone…” He stopped and laughed when he saw my startled expression. “Calm down. I just wanted to ask you what tall, dark and grumpy has against me? Honestly, I've gotten friendlier receptions from dumped girlfriends than I get from your boyfriend. What did I do?”

I ignored his question. “I assume there is quite a gaggle of dumped girlfriends to use as a reference?” I asked.

“You assume correctly.” He laughed. “I can't help it if I'm charming.”

“Oh, are you? I hadn't noticed.”

“That's because you prefer the taciturn, controlling type. Come on, you seem like a nice girl. And you're definitely pretty. You could do better.”

Better than Mateo? Hardly. I was beginning to get very annoyed. What was Danny trying to pull? “Are you implying that you're better?” I asked, a slight harsh edge to my voice.

“I'm implying nothing,” he responded, his voice soft and his expression suddenly serious. “I just don't like to see anyone being controlled by someone else. Be careful, okay?”

Wow. Either he was a highly skilled actor, or he really was sincere. I felt off-balance and was struggling with how to reply when he looked behind me and chuckled.

“I've guess I've gone and done it now.”

Mateo came charging his way through the crowd to us, not even noticing as he bumped into people, who shot him angry glances.