Lash Read online

  At the door, she stepped aside and stood beside Raphael. As Lash walked in, he winked at him, trying to hide his growing anxiety. Strange. In all the times, he’d gotten in trouble before, he’d never been anxious. Something was different.

  “Don’t sweat it, Raphael. I’ve got this covered,” Lash said. What’s the worst they could do to him?

  2

  Present

  Naomi Duran turned off her motorcycle and sat for a moment, watching the neighborhood kids play basketball. Three boys ran down the street while a couple of girls stood on the sidewalk, warning them of passing cars. She unbuckled the helmet strap and chuckled.

  She couldn’t believe she’d finally graduated from college.

  She’d come a long way from the scrawny girl who stood on her cousin Chuy’s shoulders and nailed the basketball hoop to the telephone pole. The scar on her knee and the smack on her bottom from her father were totally worth it, though. She’d won the bet against Lalo Cruz, Chuy’s best friend, and spent the ten dollars stocking up on Big Red soda. She couldn’t believe the hoop still hung in the same place.

  Naomi took off the helmet, and dark hair fell over her face. I need a haircut, she thought as she brushed back the tangled mass. The last time she had one was almost two years ago, when her mother lost her own hair during chemo. Without hesitation, she’d chopped off her waist-length tresses and had a wig made out of it. A year later, her hair grew back and her mother passed away. She wanted to cut her hair short again, but every time she went to the stylist, it brought back memories she didn’t want to recall.

  It was painful to think about her mother, and Naomi avoided it whenever possible. She bought the used Ninja 250R motorcycle after her mom had died. The red bike screamed, “Ride me!” and she had to have it. Thanks to Chuy’s mechanical skills, he got the bike running like new. Only while riding was she able to push back the memory of her mother withering away on her bed or her father drowning his grief in alcohol after her mother died.

  “What are you doing sitting out here?”

  Chuy emerged from the small white house, the screen door slamming shut behind him. He’d come a long way from the skinny kid with bad acne. He was all muscle, thanks to his job at the Cruz Moving Company. Lifting pounds of furniture on a daily basis filled him out nicely, though Naomi would never admit it aloud. He already had his ego stroked on a regular basis by a number of the neighborhood girls that flocked around him.

  “I’m enjoying the silence before I have to face the loud mob we call family.” She tossed her leg over the seat and locked her helmet to the bike.

  “Let me push that death trap for you.” He leaned over her motorcycle and flexed his muscled arms at her. “Check out my guns. They got bigger.”

  She rolled her eyes and pushed him away. “Ew, Chuy. You need a shower.”

  “What’s wrong? Is your nose too good for Ode de Mexicano? Some of us have to work for a living. Not all of us can be college graduates like you.” Chuy grinned.

  Naomi snorted. He teased her whenever he was trying to hide his true feelings. He was like an older brother, always looking out for her, especially after things got rough with her father. Sometimes, she was jealous of the special father-son relationship Chuy and her father had, but she couldn’t blame her father for taking Chuy under his wing after his own parents were killed when he was five. Their grandmother raised Chuy, her hawk-like eyes forever watchful that he wouldn’t fall prey to any of the neighborhood gangs. If Chuy ever had a problem, her father was there to put him in his place.

  “You could’ve had your own business by now if you hadn’t dropped out after the first semester.”

  “Can you blame me? How does learning about Socrates help to pay the bills?” Chuy popped down the kickstand.

  She eyed him carefully. It was a sore spot for him. He had wanted to stay in college, but he couldn’t afford to cover tuition and support their grandmother, too. At the time, her father was struggling to keep his own job and couldn’t help out, either. “Okay, okay. I’ll give you that. You’re really smart, you know.” She poked him in the arm. “I couldn’t have gotten through Algebra without your help.”

  “Not so loud.” Chuy looked around nervously as they reached the front steps of the house. “I got a rep to protect.”

  “Oh, the horror! I wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re intelligent.”

  Naomi heard the booming music before she saw it. The neighborhood kids stepped to the side and watched the black mustang as it turned the corner. Mirror-like rims turned slowly as the car rolled down the street. On the car’s grille, bright LED lights lined the horse logo like a bluish-white halo.

  “Really, Dad. Depeche Mode?” Naomi asked when her father, Javier Duran, stopped the car in front of her.

  “You know you like it. You used to dance to it all the time when you were little.” Javier took her in his arms and gave her a hug. “Congratulations, Mijita. You looked beautiful this morning in your cap and gown.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” Naomi loved it when he used the Spanish term of endearment.

  “Did you hear us? We clapped for you.” Javier opened the trunk of the car and took out a grocery bag.

  “Yeah, Dad. I think everyone heard Chuy’s air horn.”

  “Hey, I had to stir things up a bit in there,” Chuy said as he grabbed the remaining bags from the trunk. “It was so boring we were falling asleep.”

  “Mission accomplished. The chancellor almost had a heart attack.” Naomi walked to the front of the car and traced the light around running horse. “You finished installing the lights. Looks good.”

  Javier beamed and patted the hood of the car. “You should see it at night. It looks like the horse is coming right at you.”

  She laughed. It had been a long time since she’d last seen her father so happy. “Dad, you sound like a teenager.”

  “Life’s hard, Mijita. You have to enjoy it when you can.”

  “Yeah, we can’t all be serious bookworms like you, Naomi,” Chuy said. “Besides, you’re twenty-two not eighty-two. Live a little.”

  If only she could. There was a time when she was able to act her age. During the first couple of years in college, she went to a slew of fraternity parties. It all changed during her junior year when her mother was diagnosed. Unlike other girls her age, she had no interest in dating, even when her mother prodded her. She had a feeling that her mother was hoping she’d find someone that she could lean on once she was gone.

  After she died, Naomi didn’t have time to grieve because she was busy taking care of her distraught father. In fact, she wanted to drop out of college. If she hadn’t promised her mother that she’d graduate, she would have.

  Naomi smiled while Javier and Chuy talked excitedly about the car as they walked toward the back yard. It seemed like things were looking up for all of them. A few weeks ago, Javier started AA meetings and stopped drinking, placing all his energy into fixing up the mustang with Chuy. Naomi had a new job as a caseworker for Child Protective Services that started in a couple of weeks. With more money coming in, she might even be able to afford to help Chuy with their grandmother’s mortgage payments.

  “Mijita! You’re here. What took you so long?” Naomi’s grandmother rushed down the porch stairs and wrapped a pair of thin brown arms around her.

  “Ow, Welita. You’re squishing me,” Naomi said.

  Her grandmother—or Welita, as everyone lovingly called her—was tiny but strong. She wore her inky-black hair short, saying it was too hot to have it any other length. Years of hard work, raising her son, and then Chuy, had left her with little time to pamper herself, especially when it came to clothes. If anyone opened bedroom her closet, they would think they had been transported back in time to the seventies. Naomi had tried to convince her grandmother to upgrade from polyester to cotton and even offered to buy her a new wardroom, but Welita refused, saying that her clothes were perfectly fine and that someday they would be in fashion again.

  “
Ay, Dios mío. You’re still driving that thing. I told you, you could have my Buick.” Welita marched past her and gave the bike her best evil eye. “Chuy, can you put it for sale on that thing…on the computer?”

  “What thing?” Chuy looked confused.

  “Cómo se dice?” Welita muttered then snapped her fingers. “I remember. Put it on ebaze.”

  “You mean eBay. Yeah, I can do that.” Chuy glanced at Naomi with an evil grin. “Or maybe I’ll keep it for myself.”

  “No way! You’re not putting my bike on eBay.” Naomi slapped his arm. “I love my bike.”

  “So much like Stacey,” Javier muttered.

  “What?” Naomi eyed the beer that he carried and wondered if he had slipped. She didn’t want alcohol at her graduation party, she never cared for the stuff, but Chuy insisted, saying it wouldn’t be a party without it. Naomi was skeptical at first, but Chuy promised to keep an eye on Javier.

  “Your mother. You’re as stubborn as she was. Once she set her mind on something, there was no stopping her.” Tears glistened in his eyes, and he swallowed. “She would’ve been so proud of you today.”

  “I miss her, too.” Naomi couldn’t count the times that she’d wished her mother was there to share the moment with her. She didn’t realize how much she looked like her mother until that morning when she’d placed the black graduation cap on her head. She looked into the mirror and saw the same image that she had as her cell phone wallpaper. The only difference being that in the photo, auburn hair spilled out of the cap rather than Naomi’s dark hair.

  “She would’ve loved to see you like this. So grown up. If only her family were able to drive down for the ceremony,” he said.

  “I have all the family I need right here with me.” Naomi had never met her mother’s family, except through the annual postcard with a photo of the entire Hamilton clan sitting in front of a large Christmas tree. It wasn’t a secret that the Hamilton family, a well-to-do family from the Dallas area, didn’t approve of their daughter’s marriage to Javier. They must have conveniently forgotten the fact that if it weren’t for Javier’s tutoring skills, their daughter would never have passed her science courses. Naomi figured it must have been her unexpected arrival during Stacey’s senior year of college and the subsequent announcement that she was not going to graduate school that may have alienated the family from the Durans.

  Naomi placed an arm around her father’s waist as they walked into the back yard. When they rounded the corner, trumpets blared, and she jumped back with surprise. “Mariachis? You got me Mariachis?”

  “It’s Mariachi Cascabel,” Welita said proudly. “They came all the way from Laredo. They’re the best.”

  Tears pricked Naomi’s eyes as her grandmother and father beamed with pride. She knew a band like that was really expensive and there was no way they could afford it. It was only a month ago that Lalo’s father, the owner of Cruz Moving Company, had offered to hire Javier part-time to help him manage the business. As for her grandmother, the only income she had was from her social security benefits.

  “Welita, Dad, this is too much. You shouldn’t—”

  “No complaining.” Welita patted Naomi’s hand. “Don’t you worry. It didn’t cost that much. Besides, everyone in the neighborhood chipped in.”

  Naomi looked around at the neighbors sitting together, talking, eating, and drinking. Most of them she’d known since she was a little girl—like Lalo’s family, the Cruzes, who sat at one of the picnic tables talking to some of her Los Angeles relatives. The Durans also showed up in full force, traveling from as far as Laredo just to be there. College graduations were rare in her family, and it touched her that they wanted to be there with her to celebrate it. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You say thank you,” Chuy said as he placed the grocery bags on a nearby picnic table.

  “I know that.” She kissed Welita and then her father on the cheek. “Thank you so much.”

  “Chuy, over here, man. Bring the booze.”

  Naomi watched as Lalo squirted lighter fluid into the barbecue pit. He wiped a paper towel over his sweaty forehead and stuffed it into his pockets. Lalo was a big fan of 3X-sized Hawaiian shirts and fajitas. He was a sweet guy and extremely loyal. A person could trust him with anything—except flammable substances.

  “You put Lalo in charge of the barbecue? Are you crazy? He’ll burn down the entire neighborhood.” She was about to rush to him when Welita stopped her.

  “Wait a moment. I’ve got a present for you,” Welita said.

  Chuy shielded his eyes as she stuck a hand into her blouse. “Ugh, Welita. Don’t do that in front of everybody.”

  “Ay, Ama! Why do you put stuff in there?” Javier stood in front of her, looking around the yard to see if anyone was watching.

  Welita pulled out a folded envelope. “It’s the safest place I know.”

  “You’ve got that right,” Chuy said.

  “Go help Lalo, pendejo.” Welita swatted him.

  “No, Lalo!” Chuy cried as he ran to him. “One can is enough.”

  “This is for you, Mijita.” Welita placed the white packet in Naomi’s hand.

  “I can’t take this. You’ve given me so much all ready.” Naomi attempted to put the envelope back into her grandmother’s pocket.

  “No, no. You take it. It’s a gift. You can’t turn away a gift. It would be an insult.”

  Welita’s hands were on her hips, and her eyes dared Naomi to defy her. It would be like a slap on her grandmother’s face if she didn’t accept the present. It was a matter of pride that Welita managed to put together the small amount of cash.

  She bent down and kissed her cheek. “Gracias, Welita.” Somehow, Naomi vowed to herself, she was going to return it to her. It was better to do it without Welita knowing about it. She was stubborn that way.

  ***

  As the evening went on, Naomi settled back with Welita and the others, listening to the mariachis. At one point, Welita lead everyone in singing the popular ranchero song, Cielito Lindo. She was actually quite good.

  “Oh, Anita. You’re as good as the singer Lola Beltrán,” said Chela, their next-door neighbor, when Welita finished singing.

  Naomi looked at Welita, surprised. She was so used to everyone calling her Welita that she sometimes forgot her given name—Anita. She handed her grandmother a bottle of Big Red soda, taking in the twinkling eyes that crinkled when Welita laughed. Hands, weathered by the wear and tear of decades of hard work, patted Naomi’s knee as she thanked her for the drink. Naomi stared at her for a moment and caught a glimpse of the young woman Welita had once been and hoped she would be just like her when she got older.

  A couple of hours later, Welita dozed off, and people started to leave the party. Naomi looked around for her father and waved him over when she spotted him talking to Mr. Cruz.

  “Is she sleeping?” Javier asked when he neared her. He looked down at his snoring mother and chuckled. “She looks so young when she’s asleep. It’s like she hasn’t changed a bit.”

  “Mom.” He nudged her shoulder, attempting to wake her. “Mom. It’s time to go to bed.”

  “What? No, it’s a party. I can stay up a little longer,” she said, rubbing her eyes.

  “It’s almost midnight, Welita. I’m pretty tired myself.” Naomi faked a yawn and got up from her seat. “I’ll clean. You go to bed.”

  “I’ll help you.” Welita slid herself to the edge of the seat. “Help me up, Javier.”

  Javier set the bottle he was holding on the table and held out an arm. She pressed her weight against him as she pulled herself up.

  “Go to bed. I’ll help Naomi,” he said.

  Welita turned to her son and patted him on the cheek. “You’re a good boy, and you raised a fine daughter. My college graduates,” she said as she took their hands into hers. “I’m so proud of both of you.”

  Naomi glanced over at Chuy, who was still talking with a couple of his friends, as she and her fathe
r picked up the discarded cups and plates. Whenever Chuy glanced over at one of the girls, she’d bat her eyes and pretend that she was enraptured by every word that came out of his mouth. He rewarded them by flexing his biceps every time he brought the bottle of beer to his lips, or when he moved around the ice chest, which he was doing a lot.

  At one point, Chuy glanced over at Naomi and wiggled his brows when a girl named Rosie brushed against him. She was one of those girls—the type with impressive cleavage that made men drool. Rosie brushed her long wavy hair over her shoulder and gave Chuy one of her signature smiles. Naomi stuck her finger in her mouth and pretended to gag. She wasn’t impressed. Rosie had a reputation for hitting on anything that moved, and she had a couple of babies to prove it. If Welita were awake, she’d probably get her broom and shoo Rosie away.

  “Hey, Naomi, come over here,” Chuy called.

  “What’s up?” Naomi waved off an offer of beer from Lalo.

  “What’s wrong with your cousin, man? She too good to drink with us?” Mateo, one of Chuy’s friends, asked.

  “I’m right here, Mateo,” Naomi said, placing her hands on her hips. “And to answer your question, I came on my bike, so unless I want to stay on the couch for the night with Chuy’s snoring shaking the entire house, no booze for me.”

  “I don’t snore. You snore,” Chuy said.

  “Uh, huh. Yeah, right.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Come on, Chuy, rub it already,” Lalo said. “If we leave now we can get in a couple of hours at the craps table and be back before our afternoon gig.”

  “Rub what? And where are you going out this late? Don’t you have work tomorrow?” Naomi swatted Chuy’s hands as he brushed her hair off her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

  “We’re going to the Lake Charles Casino in Louisiana,” he said as he attempted to fold down the back of her shirt collar. “Come Naomi. Let me rub it for good luck.”