Check out Chapter 11 here.
Garret’s eyes blink into focus until he can make out the details of the popcorn ceiling with gold glitter peeking out of its textured surface. Yup, I am in Mexico. He shifts his weight to roll over, when he is forced back down by a sharp pain in his shoulder. He looks down at the source of the ache and finds his shoulder bandaged up along with further evidence of his wound on the night stand next to his bed: tequila, bandages, a bloody bullet, and a poking rod. So much for it just being a flesh wound.
Garrett carefully straightens up in his bed and looks around the room. He is in nothing but a pair of boxers that are not his own. The walls are painted an obnoxious powder blue and each corner is adorned with some form of declaration to religious devotion. The room is saturated with the scent of laundry detergent mixed with burnt tortillas. Smells like abuelita’s house. He swings his legs over the side of the bed, finds the cold linoleum flooring under his feet, and places the palms of his hands on his forehead. His mind reels with the events of the last 72 hours. Has it been 72 hours? How long have I been out? His stomach churns as the gravity of the situation settles into his conscious. He knows Veronica is in danger.
There is no telling how long those goons had been following Jay. They might have already been on Jay’s trail when he went to pick up Garrett at Veronica’s place. Fuck. How did he ever convince himself that involving an outsider would be OK? Veronica was only supposed to be a mule—never in any real risk. The plan: they go on a blind date. While Garret charms her; Jay gets the stash, then solidify the deal in Long Beach. He didn’t think he’d be falling in love with her. He also didn’t think that she would be put in danger, but hindsight had now shed light on how completely naive that thought had been.
Garret sighs and lets his chin fall to his chest. His shoulder throbbing and his spirit defeated. How is he going to fix this? Garrett picks up the tequila bottle on the night stand, anchors it between his thighs, and wiggles the cork out with his good arm. He raises the bottle to his lips and takes a giant swig. The burning sensation rinses the acidic taste in his mouth but not the sense of dread he was hoping it would. Garret sets the bottle back down and looks around for his clothes when the bedroom door opens.
“Good, you’re up,” announces Jay as he steps in with a plate of chile con carne and fresh tortillas. “Eat something. You lost a lot of blood.”
“How long have I been out?” The dry raspy sound of his own voice startles Garret as he follows Jay with his eyes to the other side of the room.
“What do you remember?”
“Nothing really. After we crossed the border it all pretty much fades to black.”
Jay sets the plate down on a desk adjacent to the bed. “Eat over here. My tia has already given me a lot of shit for the blood on her sheets. She wants you to eat here at the desk.”
Garret sways his upper body back and the momentum carries him to his feet. He walks to the desk and winces, “Shit. You never realize how much you use your shoulder until you have a bullet removed from it. Damn it hurts.” Garret sits down and takes a in a few small bites. Jay leans against the wall, crosses his arms and clears his throat, “Garret. Boss. There is something you need to know.” Jay swallows hard. “They got Veronica.”
“Fuck.” Garret jerks up from his chair only to be rudely reminded of his wound. He spins around and collapses on the bed. Jay turns the desk chair around to face the bed as Garret tries to breathe through the pain.
“God Damn, why does it hurt now more then when I got shot?” cries Garret, pressing his forearm around his waist and rolling on his back.
Jay gets up and rushes out of the room and returns with his Tia Louisa. Garret had met her before at a Jay’s niece’s bautismo. A short, frail woman with long salt and pepper hair always tucked into a neat bun and simple, unassuming clothes; Louisa had the mouth of a sailor, the past of a truck stop hooker and the only relative that knew what Jay was involved in.
“Que chingados? You can’t handle the pain. Pinche hijo de puta,” belts out Louisa as she kneels on the bed next to Garrets shoulder and begins to peel back the bandages. Garret can’t help but smile at the ridiculous combination of Louisa’s looks and the words spilling out of her mouth.
“Garret, there is more I have to tell you.” Jay says sitting back down, resting his elbows on his upper thighs.
“Tell me. How can this get any….Arghh!” Garret looks over to see Louisa pouring more tequila over the suture. “It had to be cleaned. No te mueves. Hold still,” commands Louisa as she wraps clean bandages around the wound
“Garret, Veronica’s involved. She has gotten herself in deep. They tell me she was playing both sides. Working with the cops and trying to get a cut of the deal.”
“What?”
“Boss, you need to think. What did you tell her? Did you see a wire?”
“Trust me she didn’t have a wire on. I was all over that body,” Garret’s sly smile gives way to seriousness, “I doubt she knew what we were doing. Where is she? Is she OK?”
Garret’s mind fills with images of her being tortured, violated, and beaten. El Chulo was an animal. Garret had taken a big risk getting involved with them but he thought the pay out would be worth it. When he first met with El Chulo to finalize the details he had noted some dried blood under El Chulo’s fingernails. When El Chulo noticed were Garret’s line of vision was falling he smiled and said, “My manicures are expensive. Trust me, you don’t want you pay that price.” They both knew what he meant.
“Andale mocoso. All set,” declares Louisa as she finishes wrapping the wound and slaps it hard, sending a searing pain down Garret's arm.
“Louisa! Damn it!”
“That is for my sheets,” Louisa explains, slapping him again. “And that is for getting my baby mixed up in this bullshit!”
"Argh!"
"Tia, please,” Jay implores. “Thank you, but Garret and I need to talk…privately.”
Louisa looks down at Garret in disdain as she slides of the bed and exits. Jay closes the door behind her and sits back down.
“Tell me everything, Jay.”
“When we crossed the border I knew Louisa would put us up, so I headed over here. You began to slip in and out. When we got here, your shirt was soaked in blood. Louisa cut it off and we could clearly see the bullet just under the skin. Fucking disgusting. She knew what to do and I played nurse. You’ve been under for half a day.”
“Fuck.”
“After we moved you out of triage, I looked at my phone and I had ten missed calls. First one was from Veronica. The other nine were from El Chulo. I checked my messages and he…well, you should hear the voicemail.”
Jay prompts his voicemail and hands it to Garret.
*beep*
Listen here you fucking idiots. We’ve got your bitch here. You thought we wouldn’t find out? I want Garret to call me back immediately. Veronica is a very beautiful girl and my men…my men don’t get many chances to socialize with women. They are brutes. I’ll try to hold them off as long as I can. Call me.
Garrett carefully straightens up in his bed and looks around the room. He is in nothing but a pair of boxers that are not his own. The walls are painted an obnoxious powder blue and each corner is adorned with some form of declaration to religious devotion. The room is saturated with the scent of laundry detergent mixed with burnt tortillas. Smells like abuelita’s house. He swings his legs over the side of the bed, finds the cold linoleum flooring under his feet, and places the palms of his hands on his forehead. His mind reels with the events of the last 72 hours. Has it been 72 hours? How long have I been out? His stomach churns as the gravity of the situation settles into his conscious. He knows Veronica is in danger.
There is no telling how long those goons had been following Jay. They might have already been on Jay’s trail when he went to pick up Garrett at Veronica’s place. Fuck. How did he ever convince himself that involving an outsider would be OK? Veronica was only supposed to be a mule—never in any real risk. The plan: they go on a blind date. While Garret charms her; Jay gets the stash, then solidify the deal in Long Beach. He didn’t think he’d be falling in love with her. He also didn’t think that she would be put in danger, but hindsight had now shed light on how completely naive that thought had been.
Garret sighs and lets his chin fall to his chest. His shoulder throbbing and his spirit defeated. How is he going to fix this? Garrett picks up the tequila bottle on the night stand, anchors it between his thighs, and wiggles the cork out with his good arm. He raises the bottle to his lips and takes a giant swig. The burning sensation rinses the acidic taste in his mouth but not the sense of dread he was hoping it would. Garret sets the bottle back down and looks around for his clothes when the bedroom door opens.
“Good, you’re up,” announces Jay as he steps in with a plate of chile con carne and fresh tortillas. “Eat something. You lost a lot of blood.”
“How long have I been out?” The dry raspy sound of his own voice startles Garret as he follows Jay with his eyes to the other side of the room.
“What do you remember?”
“Nothing really. After we crossed the border it all pretty much fades to black.”
Jay sets the plate down on a desk adjacent to the bed. “Eat over here. My tia has already given me a lot of shit for the blood on her sheets. She wants you to eat here at the desk.”
Garret sways his upper body back and the momentum carries him to his feet. He walks to the desk and winces, “Shit. You never realize how much you use your shoulder until you have a bullet removed from it. Damn it hurts.” Garret sits down and takes a in a few small bites. Jay leans against the wall, crosses his arms and clears his throat, “Garret. Boss. There is something you need to know.” Jay swallows hard. “They got Veronica.”
“Fuck.” Garret jerks up from his chair only to be rudely reminded of his wound. He spins around and collapses on the bed. Jay turns the desk chair around to face the bed as Garret tries to breathe through the pain.
“God Damn, why does it hurt now more then when I got shot?” cries Garret, pressing his forearm around his waist and rolling on his back.
Jay gets up and rushes out of the room and returns with his Tia Louisa. Garret had met her before at a Jay’s niece’s bautismo. A short, frail woman with long salt and pepper hair always tucked into a neat bun and simple, unassuming clothes; Louisa had the mouth of a sailor, the past of a truck stop hooker and the only relative that knew what Jay was involved in.
“Que chingados? You can’t handle the pain. Pinche hijo de puta,” belts out Louisa as she kneels on the bed next to Garrets shoulder and begins to peel back the bandages. Garret can’t help but smile at the ridiculous combination of Louisa’s looks and the words spilling out of her mouth.
“Garret, there is more I have to tell you.” Jay says sitting back down, resting his elbows on his upper thighs.
“Tell me. How can this get any….Arghh!” Garret looks over to see Louisa pouring more tequila over the suture. “It had to be cleaned. No te mueves. Hold still,” commands Louisa as she wraps clean bandages around the wound
“Garret, Veronica’s involved. She has gotten herself in deep. They tell me she was playing both sides. Working with the cops and trying to get a cut of the deal.”
“What?”
“Boss, you need to think. What did you tell her? Did you see a wire?”
“Trust me she didn’t have a wire on. I was all over that body,” Garret’s sly smile gives way to seriousness, “I doubt she knew what we were doing. Where is she? Is she OK?”
Garret’s mind fills with images of her being tortured, violated, and beaten. El Chulo was an animal. Garret had taken a big risk getting involved with them but he thought the pay out would be worth it. When he first met with El Chulo to finalize the details he had noted some dried blood under El Chulo’s fingernails. When El Chulo noticed were Garret’s line of vision was falling he smiled and said, “My manicures are expensive. Trust me, you don’t want you pay that price.” They both knew what he meant.
“Andale mocoso. All set,” declares Louisa as she finishes wrapping the wound and slaps it hard, sending a searing pain down Garret's arm.
“Louisa! Damn it!”
“That is for my sheets,” Louisa explains, slapping him again. “And that is for getting my baby mixed up in this bullshit!”
"Argh!"
"Tia, please,” Jay implores. “Thank you, but Garret and I need to talk…privately.”
Louisa looks down at Garret in disdain as she slides of the bed and exits. Jay closes the door behind her and sits back down.
“Tell me everything, Jay.”
“When we crossed the border I knew Louisa would put us up, so I headed over here. You began to slip in and out. When we got here, your shirt was soaked in blood. Louisa cut it off and we could clearly see the bullet just under the skin. Fucking disgusting. She knew what to do and I played nurse. You’ve been under for half a day.”
“Fuck.”
“After we moved you out of triage, I looked at my phone and I had ten missed calls. First one was from Veronica. The other nine were from El Chulo. I checked my messages and he…well, you should hear the voicemail.”
Jay prompts his voicemail and hands it to Garret.
*beep*
Listen here you fucking idiots. We’ve got your bitch here. You thought we wouldn’t find out? I want Garret to call me back immediately. Veronica is a very beautiful girl and my men…my men don’t get many chances to socialize with women. They are brutes. I’ll try to hold them off as long as I can. Call me.
The message ends and Garret’s heart sinks.
“Did you call him?”
“Like a million times, bro. Every time he answers saying that he’ll only speak to you.”
Garret looks at the phone and flips it open. He needs to do something. He is overcome with a sense of responsibility and a need to protect her. He dials and the phone rings.
El Chulo answers, “I’ll only speak to Garret.”
“It’s Garret. I got something you want. Something we never discussed. Meet me at Los Cruces Gorge and bring Veronica.”
