Part 24 (1/2)
”What, you stop in a museum on the way?” Paco said. Everybody laughed. Julio laughed.
”What are you talking? I ain't so late as all that.””Forty-five minutes is too late.” Paco reached to the table and moved a bottle forward.
”Speech me,” Julio said. ”Speech me.”
”Hey, listen, you guys! Listen. Julio's cracking wise.”
”Who's cracking wise? Look, so I'm here, so what should I do?”
Danny was looking at his shoes.
Paco rubbed his face. It glistened with hot sweat and was inflamed where the light beard had caused irritations. ”Got a hot job for Julio tonight,” he said. ”Know what it is?”
”How should I know?” Julio tried hard to keep his voice steady.
”Great kidders, you English,” Paco said. ”Hey, you guys, he don't know.” He looked over at Danny Arriaga. ”You didn't tell him?”
”For Chrissakes,” Danny said.
”All right, all right, so. You still want in The Aces?”
Julio nodded.
”By which means you got to do whatever I say you got to do, no matter what, right? Okay.”
Paco drank from the bottle and pa.s.sed it to Manuel Morales, who drank and gave the bottle to the younger of his brothers, who only wet his lips and gave it back.
Julio knew he'd have to wait, because he remembered Albert's initiation, and how Paco had stalled and watched to see how scared he got. They'd sent Albert to swipe a car that was owned by the manager of Pacific Fruit who always left the key in. That wasn't so bad, even if Albert did wreck the car the same night, driving it back to the club. Swiping a car would be all right.
But from the way Danny looked, it wasn't going to be anything like that. Paco had it in for him ever since he found out about his going to church. Though there must be more to it, because Julio knew that Hernando and Juan went to church, too.
Something deep and strange, hard to figure.
But strong.
”Pretty soon it's time,” Paco said, leaning back in the chair. The others were smiling.
The boats rocked uneasily in the small currents, a short drifting.
Julio thought about Paco, about how he'd come to The Aces. It was Danny who joined first, long before, even before Julio was wearing jeans. Paco was later, a new guy on the street. Mr. Mendez was dead, and his mother worked in the Chinese grocery on Aliso Street with the dead cats in the window.
No organization to the club, then. Paco moved in and organized. He beat up Vincente Santa Cruz, who was the strongest guy in the Heights, and he introduced the guys to marijuana and showed them where to get it. He'd been booked three times at the jail and was seen with girls tagging after him, even though he wasn't good-looking, only strong and powerful. Danny admired Paco. Julio didn't, but he respected him.
”Charge up, kid.” Paco opened a pill box which contained four crude cigarettes.
”Afterwards,” Julio said.
”So okay. Afterwards.” Paco grinned and winked at the others.
There was silence again: only the water slos.h.i.+ng against the boats and the painful creak of the wicker chair straining back and forth.
The room was very small. THE ACES was whitewashed on the walls, and initials were carved in various places. Except Julio's. His were not on any of the walls. That distinction would come only when he'd finished his job.
No one seemed prepared to break the quiet.
Julio thought, Danny knows. He knew all along, but he wouldn't tell me. Danny was a full-fledged member now. He'd had to break windows out of Major Jewelry and swipe enough watches for the gang.
A tough a.s.signment, because of the cops who prowled and wandered around all the time. It took nerve.
Julio had broken into a store himself, though--a tire shop--and so he knew he could do it again, although he remembered how afraid he had been.
Why wouldn't they tell him, for Chrissakes? Why stall? If they'd only tell him now, he'd go right out, he was sure. But, any later.
”Scared?” Paco asked, lighting another cigarette and taking off his jacket.”Listen close--you'll hear me shaking,” Julio said.
Danny smiled.
Paco frowned and brought his chair forward with a loud noise.
”What are you so c.o.c.ky--I'll give you in the mouth in a minute. I asked a question.”
”No. I ain't scared.”
”That's a crock of s.h.i.+t. Who are you trying to kid, anyway? Me?”
Suddenly Julio hated this leering, posturing Paco as he had never hated a person before. He looked at his friend Danny, but Danny was looking elsewhere.
”Mackerel snapper, isn't it, Julio?” Paco scratched his leg loudly. ”What did you, go to confession today or was the priest busy in the back room?” He smiled.
Julio clenched his fists. ”Gimme to do, already,” he said; and, all at once, he thought of his father, Papa Velasquez. Papa would be working late right now, in the pharmacy, mixing sodas and prescriptions. Business was very good, with the new housing project and all the new trade.
Julio was going to be a pharmacist--everybody knew that, though no one believed it. No one but Father Laurent: he talked to Julio many times, softly, understandingly. And there were many times when Julio wanted to tell the priest what he had done--about the motorcycle or the time he helped the guys push tea--but he could never seem to get the words out.
He waited, hands tight together, listening to the breathing, and thinking: I could go right to the drugstore now, if I wanted. It was only a mile away . . .
He cleared his throat. Albert Dominguin was staring at him.
And now Danny Arriaga was getting sore, too: Julio could tell.
”You want to know, huh? Guys--think I should tell him?”
”Tell him already,” Danny snapped, rising to his feet. He looked a lot bigger than Paco, suddenly.
”Now.”
”Who asked for your mouth?” Paco said, glaring. He looked quickly away. ”All right, Julio. But first you got to see this.”
Paco reached in his pocket and took out a large bone-handled knife. Julio didn't move.
”Ever use one, kid?”