No Second Chances (9 page)

S
antiago decided to take some time off. He needed to regroup and plan his next steps. The Leafy Valley Mojo was so close to taking off. Neighbors stopped him on the street to ask where they could pick up his mojo drink. The word was out. He just needed a location and money to set up his business on a more permanent basis.

He was on his way to his mother's house for dinner when his phone rang. It was Chubs. They hadn't talked since the wrestling match, so Santiago was a bit uneasy. Was his cousin
still sore about losing? He answered on the third ring.

“Hey, bro, how's it going?”

“All right,” Chubs replied. The silence that followed made Santiago nervous. Then his cousin said, “Yo, man, tickling should be grounds for disqualification.”

Santiago relaxed. “Hey, I won fair and square. It's not my fault you're super-ticklish.”

“Yeah, well, you owe me, bro.”

“Dude, Maria Elena ran me out of
la pulga
. I lost my stand. Don't you think I've paid enough?”

“Yeah, but you still owe me. El Payaso was going to give me a lot of money if I won. I would have shared, you know.”

Santiago waited expectantly for Chubs's request.

“I need you to do me a huge favor,” Chubs said.

“What is it?”

“I need your truck tonight.”

“What's wrong with the Mustang?”

Chubs hesitated. “Bro, I got in a fight with my mom. She's on my back about getting a job again. I got this opportunity that may prove very profitable, but I've got to make a delivery tonight. So what do you say?

Santiago understood his cousin's frustration. Chubs had dreams. He wanted to open a professional taxidermy shop. Like Santiago, Chubs needed money, so Santiago agreed to lend him his truck.

 

After lending his truck to Chubs, Santiago walked down the block toward his
tío
's restaurant. The sky had darkened and the streets were deserted. At night, parts of Dos Rios looked like a ghost town, especially with all the “For Sale” signs posted on building walls. The only blinking and beaming eyesore was the new Mr. Taco Man shop up ahead. Santiago was tempted to grab a late night snack, but his uncle's traditional restaurant was just across
the street. Someone from his family would definitely spot him and that would be the end of him. Suddenly, a loud commotion made him come to a complete halt.

A noisy scuffle had erupted in front of the Mr. Taco Man store. A girl started to scream. Santiago felt his heart skip. He knew that voice. It was Fabi.

Santiago ran down the street. Fabi was struggling violently. Her dark hair shook wildly around the two men who held her arms down and pulled her down the sidewalk. Santiago feared the worst until he recognized the Taco Man uniforms and relaxed a bit. Behind her, Fabi's buddy Milo was also getting thrown out of the fast-food shop. Milo struggled a bit. In his hands were a bunch of flyers that he hastily threw to the ground. Santiago ran up to Fabi's assailants. He grabbed one of the guy's wrists and twisted it off her. He raised his fist in a threatening manner to the other guy.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” Santiago cried to the Taco Man employees.

A tall young man in a business suit walked up to Santiago. He had a long straight nose and wore his hair neatly combed to the side. “Do you know this girl?” His voice was crisp and annoyed.

“Yeah, she's my
prima
. Who are you?” Santiago asked in a challenging voice.

“I'm the manager of Mr. Taco Man,” the guy answered. “This little pest here has been sneaking around my business, scaring away customers and passing out flyers.” He shoved an orange paper in Santiago's face that called for a Mr. Taco Man boycott and support for local small business. A small smile crept on Santiago's face and he glanced at his cousin.

Fabi struggled free from the taco men. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves. Do you even know what you're doing to Dos Rios? Small businesses can't compete with your
big-chain money. Look around. You're turning our community into a ghost town.”

The manager threw his hands up in the air. “Get that girl out of here right now or I'm calling the cops! You hear me?”

Fabi was on a rampage and wasn't going to be intimidated. “Oh, and I found out what's in the ‘secret' sauce, amigo! High-fructose corn syrup, MSG, and a bunch of chemical preservatives I can't even pronounce! The people won't stand for this! They won't. People will rise up and shut you down, Mr. Taco Manager!”

“No one is forcing our customers to eat anything,” the manager snapped back. He noticed the small crowd that had gathered around them and gave a nervous snort as he fixed his tie. “I'll let this go because I'm a good person. I'm just a simple businessman trying to feed my family and provide jobs in the Valley,” he said to the crowd. The crowd murmured around them.

“You're destroying our community!” Fabi spat.

It was time to rein Fabi in, Santiago thought. He grabbed his cousin and Milo by the arms and pulled them both across the street. Through the windows of his uncle's restaurant, Santiago recognized the entire family watching the scene unfold.

“I don't want to see that girl around here ever again!” the man yelled as his workers ushered their customers back into the eatery. “I've got her on tape, you know. I'll sue your whole family for defamation!”

Santiago pushed Fabi through the front door of the restaurant, ignoring her complaints. Once inside, the room erupted in forceful outbursts and questions. Fabi slumped into a chair, grumbling under her breath—Milo followed. Santiago grabbed a chair and twirled it backward and sat across from them. The rest of the family huddled behind him, waiting for an explanation.

“Fabi, Milo,” Santiago pressed in a serious voice. “What the hell were you two thinking?” His question set off a stream of voices behind him. Santiago glanced over his shoulder at the faces of his
tío
Leo,
tía
Magda, grandma Trini,
abuelita
Alpha, grandpa Frank, and even Alexis, all yelling on top of one another. Fabi slumped back in her chair, frowning.

“Guys,” Santiago turned to address the group behind him. “One at a time, all right?” The group settled down.

Fabi took a deep breath. “Well, you know how we were spying on Mr. Taco Man?” Her mother objected, but Abuelita Alpha told her to let Fabiola explain.

Fabi continued. “We” — she gestured at Milo — “decided to pretend to apply for positions there.” There were whispers behind him, but Santiago tuned them out and focused on what Fabi said next. “I got a look at the kitchen and their pantry. I couldn't believe all the chemicals they use in the food.”

“And that's when we decided to do something about it,” Milo cut in. Fabi shot Milo a grateful smile as he continued. “We went online and looked up what the ingredients were and we found all this stuff about what preservatives and pesticide toxins do to the body and we felt like we had to let people know.”

“You had no right to go over there and start trouble,” Fabi's father said in an angry voice. “Don't you ever think with that thick skull of yours? He threatened to sue us. We can't have that. We'll lose the restaurant for sure and then what are we all supposed to do, eat dirt?”

“She was just trying to help,” Alexis cried from the back.
Tío
Leo ignored the interruption.

“But, Dad,” Fabi interrupted, “we have to do something. They're stealing our customer base. Business has dropped since they opened a couple weeks ago. I even saw your buddies” — she looked up at Grandpa Frank — “Cherrio and Chepe eating the Mucho Macho Taco fiesta
pie. That's when I kind of lost it.” Fabi looked over her shoulder out the window, anger flashing across her face. “I couldn't believe that they would betray us like that.”

“No one is betraying anyone,”
Tío
Leo said in a tired voice. Fabi looked up at her dad in surprise. “You complain that Mr. Taco Man is unhealthy. But you also complain about our menu, too.”

Fabi flinched and her cheeks reddened.

“Mija
, I know you're trying to help. But people can eat whatever and wherever they want. That man was right about that. No one is forcing them to eat there. Four tacos for a dollar, I can't compete with that. But for some people that meal will make sure their family doesn't go to bed hungry. We all have to make a living. We all need to eat. Times are tough and there are few jobs outside of fast-food joints around town.” He sighed. “I know your frustration,
mija
. I remember when downtown was the place to be on a Saturday night.” His eyes lit up
as he remembered. He turned back to Fabi and the light had dimmed. “Do you think this is the first business that's ever opened up across the street from us?” Fabi didn't know how to answer. She glanced at Milo and then at Santiago.

“But, Dad,” Fabi tried again, “I don't want fajitas that come from some California warehouse. I want ‘Made in the Rio Grande Valley' tortillas. I want to support the people who live and struggle here. Just because things have changed doesn't mean we have to roll over and accept it. The few businesses left can stand together. We have to fight to save our community. If we do nothing, there will be no family businesses left.”

Leo leaned back in his chair. He said nothing and stared off into his kitchen. Then his big brown face relaxed into an easy smile. Leo chuckled. “I don't know when you became such an activist,
mija
.”

Fabi beamed, tears rolling down her face. “I don't know, either, Dad, but this is something
I care about.” Leo jumped up and gave his daughter a hug.

“And we can offer something Mr. Taco Man can never sell,” Santiago interrupted. Everyone turned to gaze at him. “Leafy Valley Mojo, baby. Made with the best local vegetables and fruits the Rio Grande Valley can provide.”

Tío
Leo laughed and slapped Santiago on the back. “Okay, Santiago,” he said, “we'll try out your smoothie stand up front on one condition.”

“Anything.”

“That you make sure Fabiola works on those recipes until they actually taste good.”

The room erupted into bursts of laughter. Fabi cried, “Not funny!” from the opposite side of the room. Santiago grinned. He felt relieved and happy that everything was working out. Fabi was talking with enthusiasm to Grandma Trini and her mother. She was planning a meeting with the entire neighborhood. They would hold it at the restaurant and invite local business owners, the city council members, and anyone
who cared about preserving the local economy. Santiago crossed his arms across his chest and grinned.

A pulsing vibration in his back pocket surprised him. His cousin Chubs was calling him. Santiago hoped his cousin hadn't gotten into an accident.

“Yo, what's up?” he asked, putting one hand over his ear so he could hear.

“Bro, thank God you answered,” Chubs cried in an anxious voice. “Dude, I messed up big-time. The Salinas brothers are going to kill me.”

D
ude,” Chubs cried anxiously into the phone. “I was totally robbed by this wino. He stole your truck and now I'm here with a bunch of rotting fruit on the side of the road. Pick me up, man.”

Santiago's eyes widened with fury. Then his phone beeped again. He was getting another call. It was his mom. “Hold up a second,” Santiago told his cousin as he switched the line over. “Mom. What's up?”

“You said you were coming home tonight,” his mother reminded, trying to sound patient,
but he could hear bubbling tension in her voice.

“Yeah, I was on my way, but —”

“Great, I'll see you in ten minutes. We need to talk,” she said before hanging up.

Santiago groaned, looking at the cell phone screen that blinked, indicating his cousin still on hold. He clicked to Chubs. “Bro … I … errrr. I need to stop by the house for a second and then —”

“Oh, hell naw!” his cousin complained. “You going to just leave me out here with the wild animals?”

“What animals? Where you at?”

“I'm like ten miles outside of the Laguna Ovalle Reserve. You remember where that is?”

Santiago remembered vividly the wildlife refuge where they used to go as kids to explore the clay dunes, watch falcons, and try to catch the endangered ocelots. “What are you doing all the way out there at this time of night? You told me you were going to make a
delivery, that's it. I should call your mom to go get you.”

“No!” Chubs cried. “Santiago, I know I messed up. I'm sorry, man. But nobody can know where I'm at. My mom would kill me double if she found out I was working for the Salinas brothers.” Santiago nodded. Although Chubs was nineteen, he still lived with his mother and feared her more than the Salinas brothers.

“Fine. Hang tight. I'll be there as soon as I can,” Santiago said, releasing his breath. “But I need to find a car first.”

“Well, hurry up, man. It's cold out here.”

Santiago was about to tell him off, but held his tongue. His cousin was hopeless. Now, he'd gotten the truck stolen! Santiago wanted to hit something. His family was buzzing with excitement around him, but Santiago was a hundred miles away. He hung up the phone and asked his grandmother for a ride to his mother's house. On the way, he wondered about the trouble Chubs was dragging him into. Dread
filled every inch of his body. The Salinas brothers hadn't bothered Santiago, ever since he promised Juan “El Payaso” Diamante to stay out of any illegal activities. He wondered if El Payaso had told the brothers something. But now his cousin was in trouble and his own truck was in the middle of it!

An unfamiliar car was parked in his mother's driveway when he arrived. Santiago hurried up to the house and let himself in.

“Hey, Mom,” he called out from the door. “I'm home.”

“In the kitchen,” his mother replied. He smelled something good cooking. Did they have company?

Santiago found his mother serving his father a bowl of spaghetti with meatballs. The scene made his stomach turn. What was he doing here?

“Hey, Mom, I have to go now,” Santiago said, ignoring his father. “Can I borrow your car?”

“Santiago.” His mother's face dropped. “I
was hoping we could all sit and talk about your future. What's wrong with your truck?”

“Mom, I can't talk about it now. Chubs took my truck and now he needs my help.”

“Help? Did he run out of gas?” his father volunteered.

Santiago's eyes widened. “No, it's cool. I got this. Mom? Your car?” He extended his hand.

“Oh, c'mon, don't be like that,” his father said in a playful voice. “If he's in a jam, you might need me — plus I have a full tank of gas.”

Santiago frowned at his mother. Why wasn't she saying anything? He bit his lip, glancing from his mother to his father. But this was not a game. Chubs was in way over his head and the Salinas brothers didn't give second chances.

His father stared, waiting for an answer. Finally, Santiago let out a deep breath. He didn't want his father to think he had forgiven him — not by a long shot. But he also couldn't overlook his dad's past criminal experience. It might be just what they needed.

His mother walked over to him. “Santiago, I don't know what your cousin has gotten himself into, but I'd feel a lot better if your father was there.”

“Fine,” Santiago said, surrendering. He turned to leave. “Let's go.” He didn't even check to see if his father was following him. Santiago was trying to stay cool even though a small part of him was relieved that he would not be going after Chubs alone.

“Do you want to drive?” his father asked, jingling the keys in front of Santiago.

“Whatever. I don't care. I only agreed to you coming along because Chubs has my truck and I don't want my mom to worry,” Santiago spat angrily.

“Yo,” his dad said. “I just thought you might want to drive. That's all.”

It was a nice gesture, but Santiago didn't want him to think they were friends now. “Okay. Thanks.”

 

The drive to Laguna Ovalle felt like the longest ride of Santiago's life. His father kept trying to start a conversation with him. He asked about school; if he had any serious girlfriends; what he liked to do for fun. Santiago dodged his questions like they were poisonous darts. He turned on the radio to drown out any hope of a father-son bonding session. His father turned off the radio.

“Dammit, Santiago, I'm trying to talk to you,” he said. Santiago pressed down on the accelerator, frowning at the road ahead of him. “Okay, so you don't want to talk to me,” his dad continued. “I get that. But there's something I've been meaning to tell you.”

Santiago couldn't help but sigh. Why did every adult feel the need to talk to him?

“You know, your moms and I talked. I know I haven't been around much … but I'm here now. Your mom told me about you dropping out of school and I just wanted you to know that I think that's a bad decision.”

Santiago pulled off the road and slammed on the brakes. He couldn't believe his ears. This man was giving him advice! “Stop!” Santiago cried. “Stop trying to act like you care! Stop trying to wiggle your way back into our family! It's not going to happen!” Santiago looked at his father. All he could feel was pain and frustration boiling up inside him. “You know the day the cops busted you, I was glad. It meant that I didn't have to see Mom get beat up anymore. It meant I could have a normal life and I didn't have to cry myself to sleep.” Santiago felt the heat rise to his face and his eyes sting with tears, but he pushed on. “You were never there for us, even when you were around. You never came to my Little League games or took me hunting like dads are supposed to. And now you want me to forget about all that and welcome you into my life with open arms. It's never going to happen.” There was a long uncomfortable pause between them. His father slouched down in his seat.

“I appreciate you coming with me and all. But after tonight, you can just get lost!” Santiago said, putting the car into gear. They drove on for another thirty minutes in silence.

They found Chubs sitting on the ground on the side of the highway. He rushed over to the vehicle out of breath.

“Oh, man, I'm so glad to see you. I was worried you were going to leave me out here.” Chubs noticed Santiago's father. “Hey,
tío
Eddy. Is that you? No way! You look exactly the same. It's so good to see you —” He cut himself off and shot Santiago an uneasy glance.

“Just get into the car,” Santiago said, gesturing for Chubs to hurry up. “We need to find my truck.”

Chubs squeezed into the front seat, pushing Eddy right up next to Santiago. He could smell his dad's cologne. It brought back childhood images of playing dress-up in his dad's clothes. Santiago pushed those memories down
and inched away. The man's closeness made him uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” Chubs nodded, excitedly. “Let's catch that punk. Catch him before it's too late.”

“So, what's this all about?” Eddy asked, turning to Chubs.

His cousin's cheeks reddened. “
Tío
, well, you remember how I liked to do taxidermy? Well, the Salinas brothers thought it would be clever to hide some stuff inside the animals.” Chubs looked from Santiago to Eddy for a reaction. “I did it and they came out real nice. I'm supposed to deliver them tonight. I was on my way when I saw this tore-up dude selling fruit and vegetables on the side of the road. I thought it was kind of strange because we're way out in the country. But the guy was from Dos Rios. He was real wasted and he was crying about his three hungry kids at home and how he had no money. I felt bad for him. Then I thought about your business, Santiago.” His cousin's voice
brightened. “And how you could use the fruits to make that green juice. So I offered to buy everything from him. I got out to help him load the truck when that jerk jumped in and took off with all my stuffed animals.” Chubs became very quiet. “Now the Salinas brothers are going to kill me because I lost their merchandise.”

“You left the keys in the ignition!” Santiago cried, trying to see over his dad. “You deserve whatever you get for being so stupid.”

Chubs lowered his head. “I know. I know.” He sighed, feeling the weight of the situation on his shoulders.

“Wait a second,” Eddy cut in. “Maybe we can find this guy before the Salinas brothers notice their stuff is missing.” Santiago turned to his father in surprise.

“Really,
tío
?” Chubs asked, wide-eyed.

“But I want the two of you to make me a promise,” Eddy said, growing serious.

“Yes!” Chubs exclaimed before Santiago could object.

“I want you boys to go back to school — you have to finish high school.”

Santiago felt like the frame of the car was coming down on him. Why did everything have to go back to school? Was this his mother's meddling?

“We'll do it!” Chubs answered for both of them.

“I'll think about it,” Santiago muttered.

Eddy smiled brightly. “All right, that's good enough for me. The way I see it, there are only two possibilities. The wino is either going to try and sell the truck to score some booze or he's out for a joyride.”

Chubs frowned. “He could be anywhere by now. He has a three-hour head start. Man, he could be deep in Mexico for all I know.”

Eddy pulled his cell phone from his shirt pocket. “It's a good thing I have a lot of friends,” he said, before making a few calls. Santiago turned on the car and headed back to Dos Rios. A small smile crept over Santiago's lips. His
father's quick thinking and resourcefulness were impressive.

 

It took them most of the night to track down Santiago's truck. The car thief had tried to sell it at two used-car lots and even to a wrecking company outside the town of Zapata.

Twenty miles east of the wrecking company they spotted a man with scraggly hair and stained jeans pushing a black truck with a blue tarp spread out over the back. Santiago pulled over to the shoulder and got out.

“Need some help there?” his father asked the man, surprising Santiago. He hadn't even heard his dad get out of the car.

The car thief glanced over his shoulder and smiled sheepishly. He was missing his two front teeth. “Yeah, I guess I ran out of gas,” the man said. “You mind giving me a lift to a gas station?”

“That's a fine looking truck you have there,” Eddy said, coming up beside him.

“You like it? I'll sell it to you for a real good price.” The man noticed Santiago. “Is that your son? I have a son, too. He's a good boy, but he grows so fast. See this —” He pulled out a pair of red Converse from inside the truck. “Don't fit him no more. That's why I need to sell the truck. To buy him some new shoes.” He looked at Santiago. “You want to buy some shoes? They're almost like new. Hey, you guys got any beer?”

Santiago recognized the red Converse. Those were Angel's shoes. How did this wino get Angel's shoes? Then it all clicked into place. This was Angel's dad! A memory flashed before his eyes. He remembered waiting for his dad on the first day of school. He turned down a ride from his kindergarten teacher, because he knew his dad wouldn't forget him. His dad never came. And there were countless other times Santiago made excuses for his dad's absence. His dad, like Angel's dad, didn't deserve to be called “father.” A flare of anger ignited in his chest.

Santiago tackled the man to the ground. He grabbed the man by his soiled collar and shook him violently. Tears streamed down Santiago's face and he socked the man in the mouth with all his strength. He couldn't stop himself. He couldn't think. Strong arms pulled him away. Santiago kicked and screamed: “What's wrong with you? Why can't you be a dad?”

Angel's dad stared at Santiago from behind a busted lip and a bloody nose. He curled into a ball and cried: “
¡Mi hijo!”

Chubs leaned over Santiago and asked, “Bro, are you all right?”

Santiago nodded. His pulse was thumping out of control. Eddy stood off to the side watching the scene. He lit a cigarette.

Chubs released Santiago and rushed over to grab the keys from the truck. Then he waved them at Santiago triumphantly. The man on the ground tried to protest. But Chubs growled at him to stay down. Chubs looked under the blue tarp, checking to make sure his cargo was
still there. Santiago noticed his cousin relax. Then his cousin raised one of his crazy stuffed owls with antlers over his head. Chubs ripped off the head of the owl and looked inside.
Idiot
, Santiago thought, shaking his head. Maybe they should go back to school! They were certainly no good at smuggling or wrestling. Maybe he could study business? Santiago liked the sound of that. He was about to tell his cousin about his new idea when he heard the sound of police sirens coming in their direction. His blood turned cold.