Click here for Chapter 13
After much confusion, a helicopter ride, and some shoving and pulling Veronica is lead to a cushioned chair and pushed down aggressively to take a seat. Still blind folded, Veronica hears whispers and strains to hear what is being said.
“Boss…touched her.”
“Take care of it…the boyfriend...she knows.”
“You sure?...messy…cops.”
“I don’t…leave…”
A long pause fills the room as her heart begins to race. The sound of her own blood pulsing through veins is the only sound she hears. A shift of movement shuffles around her. She senses they are preparing to finish her off.
“If you are going to kill me, can you do me the courtesy of taking off my blindfold? I’d like to see the face of my executer. Grant me the dignity of that, please.”
Just then Veronica feels someone gently untying her blindfold. Her heart races faster. This is it. I am going to die. As the blindfold is pulled away Veronica takes in the room. Windowless but ornately decorated. Veronica sits at the head of a long mahogany table. Beautiful tapestries cover the walls and an antique cabinet displays the most beautiful china. A man in his mid-sixties walks from behind her and sits adjacent to her. His salt and pepper hair contrast with his dark piercing eyes. He looks at Veronica as he shifts his weight in his seat and rests his elbow on the arm rest.
“Are you hungry?” the man asks with out emotion. Veronica is having a hard time reading him. His eyes, his body language, his tone—all are void of feeling.
“Where is Garret?”
“I am Vazquez,” he introduces, ignoring Veronica’s question. He leans over and presses the intercom on the table. “Victor, bring us some coffee and those Italian cookies.” A man walks in almost immediately and sets down a plate of exotic cookies and pours them each a cup of coffee.
“How do you take it?” asks Vazquez.
“To go.”
At this Vazquez reveals a smile. He takes in a sip of his coffee.
“Listen Vasquez, sir. I am very overwhelmed by all of this. Drugs, guns, helicopter flights—all of this is not my life.”
“Well, Veronica. This has very much become mine. And I have made myself a small fortune.”
“But at the cost of what? People’s lives?" Veronica swallows back tears, "Sir, where is Garret?”
“You like this boy. Why? He has exposed you to a lot of danger. A man that can not protect you does not deserve you. Remember I said that.”
“I’ll sow it onto a pillow so I’ll never forget.” Veronica is surprised by her own words. She knows she is playing with fire. A man like Vazquez is feared; not mocked.
“If you’re anything like your grandmother, your needle point is amazing.” Vazquez’s eyes dig into Veronica for a reaction.
“What do you know about my grandmother?” probes Veronica with a lump in her throat. She can handle herself but no one can touch her family.
“She makes the best tamales. Your mother could never get them right.” Vazquez looks down and examines his coffee. His face expresses that he is mulling over a memory. “Veronica, allow me to reintroduce myself. My name is Vazquez and I am your father.”
Friday, June 12, 2009
Friday, May 29, 2009
The Court Chronicles (A Blog Novella) - Part II, Chapter 12
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.”
Friday, May 15, 2009
The Court Chronicles (A Blog Novella) - Part II, Chapter 10
Chapters: 7, 8, 9
“Go head and answer it,” Garret nods to the phone in Jay’s hand.
Jay feels nauseous with guilt as he flips open his phone and forces out a, “hello?”
“Jay?”
“Veronica…”
“OK. Let’s not play dumb here. We both know what happened last night. Please be a man and spare me the bullshit,” Veronica demands.
“Oh uh…” Jay searches Garret’s face while he mouths what is she saying?
“Jay… I am so sorry. You have to believe me when I say that I never-- in a million years-- thought this would ever happen to me on a first date let alone ever in my life! Everything was going so well. We exchanged embarrassing stories, went to go eat at a local taco shop, and then bam!--I find thousands of dollars worth of premium mota in my trunk. Who am I? Sad Girl? Mi Vida Loca and shit? Please Jay, tell me-- is Garret mad at me? He has got to be pissed,” Veronica takes in a deep breath.
Jay lets a long pause play out as Garret shoves his shoulder. “Say something, stupid,” whispers Garret.
“Sorry Veronica, I am still in shock over everything. Um…uh…when Garret called me this morning to pick him up from the police station I thought I had accidently taken one of Nicole’s xanax again,” Jay jokes nervously.
“Again? She’s on xanax?”
Jay closes his eyes tight and doesn’t know where to take this conversation. He doesn’t want to be too cool with it and tip her off that he’s involved, but he doesn’t want to be angry and alienate her. He looks over at Garret who is waving his hands in the air in an unidentifiable motion. What does that mean?
“You know, maybe you should call him and try to explain things yourself.” Jay looks at Garret who is agreeing with large nods of his head. “Garret is a pretty cool character. You’d be surprised what he can tolerate.”
Veronica scoffs at the fact that she is now being “tolerated”. That doesn’t sound good. He has got to be livid. She agrees that talking to Garret would be the best thing. Her phone clicks and she realizes that Arturo is calling her. She rushes off the phone with Jay and picks up the other line.
“Arturo.”
“Hey cousin! What’s new?”
“I found the weed and had to call the cops.”
“I know. My boss knows too. What did you tell them? I know you are a rat. I could always smell it on you and your side of the family. Fuckin' putas, all of you!”
“Hey stupid, you are the one that hid that shit in my trunk without telling me,” interrupts Veronica plainly. “You are not exaclty a fucking criminal mastermind. Now listen up because I have something to tell you. I had noticed some of the drugs you put in there when I had stopped to get gas in Yuma; before my date at the golf course. You know? The stuff you hid where my spare was supposed to be?”
“Yeah.”
“I still have it. I got a plan-- one where everybody wins. When can you pick it up?”
“ Tomorrow.”
“OK, call me when you hit the state line,” she instructs. “Oh and hey! I am going to need a $500,000 storage fee for this mess you got me into.”
“Oh, so what—now you think you are all Billy-bad-ass or something? Listen bitch…”
Veronica hangs up on him. What she has is worth millions of dollars. He can afford 500 grand. She then calls Sergeant Howell.
“Sergeant Howell, speaking.”
“Hello Sergeant, its Veronica. Listen, I have been trying to reach my cousin for two hours and I haven’t gotten a hold of him. Could he have gotten word that I was busted?”
“Impossible. Only you and Garret came into the station and he isn’t involved.”
“Right.”
“You and your cousin hadn’t made any definitive plans to meet yet, right?”
“No we hadn’t,” Veronica replies to throw off the Sergeant. As much as she can’t stand her cousin; she knows they’d go after her mom if she sets him up. Besides, she had it all figured out and was confident she could pull this off.
When she had found the first stash—a kilo of coke and the 4 bags of ecstasy-- in her trunk she drove it straight to her ex-boyfriend, Octavio’s, storage unit. He was out of town so often he hadn’t had time to get his keys back from her. In fact, she was positive he didn’t remember she had them. She knew it would be a safe place, since the storage unit wasn’t in her name and they weren’t together long enough for anyone to remember she even existed in his life. Octavio was a part time lover--never there and only good for one thing, and even that wasn’t all that great. Veronica chuckled to herself as she remembered the time she faked a headache until he left her apartment, only to reach for her vibrator.
“What’s so funny?” asks Howell.
“Nothing. I can’t believe I am in this situation is all,” replies Veronica.
Focusing back on task she schemes that as soon as she gives Arturo the load of illegal drugs she’ll give Howell the run around. He’ll assume that somehow Arturo caught wind that Veronica was brought in by the police and skipped town. Everything would work out, she assured herself. Arturo will get his stuff, I’ll get some money, and mom will be safe.
“Ms. Nunez, give me a call as soon as you get a hold of him. We’ll coordinate from there. You should know you are doing a great thing. You are very brave. Women like you are rare-- beauty and guts. You are amazing.”
Veronica doesn’t know how to take that statement and she ends the phone call. Great, the last thing she needs is for Howell to take a special interest in her. Please don’t like me. I don’t want you to have a puppy love crush on me. She discounts it as her overactive imagination and prepares for her final phone call—to Garret.
Just as she is about to call she notices a text message from him.
Veronica, I know you are embarrassed. You don’t have to be. Meet me at Ace’s Bar on 4th @7pm. I can’t wait to see you.
At 6:50pm Garret walks into Ace’s to find Veronica already sitting at the bar. A tinge of jealousy bubbles in his stomach as he notices a guy leaning on the bar next to her. Tilting his head towards her, smiling obnoxiously, while shooting glances at her breast. She is beautiful, wearing a pair of hip hugging jeans, a tight v-neck sweater and her hair wept up so you could follow the soft skin of her neck to her elegant shoulders. She glances over and their eyes connect.
“Garret! We were just talking about you. Tom, this is my boyfriend Garret; Garret, this is Tom.”
Tom shifts his weight to face Garret and extends his hand as Veronica motions to Garret to get rid of him.
“Nice to meet you Tom, and thank you for taking good care of my beautiful Veronica. Now, I don’t want to sound like a prick but I have been waiting all day to see her and I really need you to get out of my way so that I can give her a kiss.”
Tom steps away from the bar and before Veronica knows it, Garret has her head in his hands and brings her in close for a kiss. Her heart pounds with intense pressure as she lets go into the moment and kisses him back. An undeniable attraction causes them forget where they are until someone in the back yells out, “Get a room!” Garret pulls back and asks with a devilish grin, “What do you say?”
They don’t say a word as they walk toward the elevator in Veronica’s complex. As the doors slide close, Veronica presses the button and Garret spins her around and kisses her passionately. Overcome, she forces him back and pins him against the wall.
“This is crazy, Garret…”
Looking past Veronica’s shoulder Garret says, “Um, I think we are at your floor.”
Veronica turns around to find the elevator doors have opened with the Wongs and their pomeranian starring back at them. Veronica moves Garret’s hand from her ass and turns around.
“Hello Shuping and Ed. Sorry we were—uh…” says Veronica as she grabs Garrets hand and leads him out of the elevator past the Wongs.
“You know this is an elevator, not a home. You do that in your home!” yells Shuping as the dog yaps in agreement.
Laughing, they run to her front door and rush inside. The second the door clicks closed, they find their way back into eachother’s arms and move quicly back towards her room peeling clothes off and kissing. Veronica sits on her bed to wrestle her shoes off, when she glances up to see Garret standing in his boxers starring at her in the darkness.
“Whats wrong?” She asks.
“You are beautiful.”
Garret walks to her slowly as Veronica inches her way back on the bed. He rests his weight on her and kisses her again. This time tenderly and slowly. He can feel very ridge of her lips on his as he explores her body with his hands. She runs her hands down the muscles of his back and kisses his neck and shoulder. She adjusts her body under his weight and wraps her legs around his.
“Are you OK?” Garret asks.
“Yes,” Veronica whispers back as she reaches for her night stand and produces a condom.
Garret laughs, “Very slick. Gotta love a girl that is prepared”
Once ready, she pulls him back into her and whispers something Garret can’t make out. He slides himself into her and finds a rymthm that syncs with the motion in her hips. She makes it no seceret what she likes. Moaning and sighing with every motion. Veronica lets herself get lost in the moment. She needs this release and she holds him even closer to her.
Garret straightens his arms and watches Veronica’s face as she arches her back and climaxes. He wraps his arm under the small of her back and brings her body on top of his. He lays back and watches her roll her body on top of his as he places his hands on her hips to guide her movements. The sight of her drives him crazy and he brings her back down to him as he finishes.
Veronica rolls off of him and rests her head on his chest.
“Garret, I want to explain something to you.”
“Not now. Just rest…”
Just then, both of them flinch when they hear a knock at the door.
“Go head and answer it,” Garret nods to the phone in Jay’s hand.
Jay feels nauseous with guilt as he flips open his phone and forces out a, “hello?”
“Jay?”
“Veronica…”
“OK. Let’s not play dumb here. We both know what happened last night. Please be a man and spare me the bullshit,” Veronica demands.
“Oh uh…” Jay searches Garret’s face while he mouths what is she saying?
“Jay… I am so sorry. You have to believe me when I say that I never-- in a million years-- thought this would ever happen to me on a first date let alone ever in my life! Everything was going so well. We exchanged embarrassing stories, went to go eat at a local taco shop, and then bam!--I find thousands of dollars worth of premium mota in my trunk. Who am I? Sad Girl? Mi Vida Loca and shit? Please Jay, tell me-- is Garret mad at me? He has got to be pissed,” Veronica takes in a deep breath.
Jay lets a long pause play out as Garret shoves his shoulder. “Say something, stupid,” whispers Garret.
“Sorry Veronica, I am still in shock over everything. Um…uh…when Garret called me this morning to pick him up from the police station I thought I had accidently taken one of Nicole’s xanax again,” Jay jokes nervously.
“Again? She’s on xanax?”
Jay closes his eyes tight and doesn’t know where to take this conversation. He doesn’t want to be too cool with it and tip her off that he’s involved, but he doesn’t want to be angry and alienate her. He looks over at Garret who is waving his hands in the air in an unidentifiable motion. What does that mean?
“You know, maybe you should call him and try to explain things yourself.” Jay looks at Garret who is agreeing with large nods of his head. “Garret is a pretty cool character. You’d be surprised what he can tolerate.”
Veronica scoffs at the fact that she is now being “tolerated”. That doesn’t sound good. He has got to be livid. She agrees that talking to Garret would be the best thing. Her phone clicks and she realizes that Arturo is calling her. She rushes off the phone with Jay and picks up the other line.
“Arturo.”
“Hey cousin! What’s new?”
“I found the weed and had to call the cops.”
“I know. My boss knows too. What did you tell them? I know you are a rat. I could always smell it on you and your side of the family. Fuckin' putas, all of you!”
“Hey stupid, you are the one that hid that shit in my trunk without telling me,” interrupts Veronica plainly. “You are not exaclty a fucking criminal mastermind. Now listen up because I have something to tell you. I had noticed some of the drugs you put in there when I had stopped to get gas in Yuma; before my date at the golf course. You know? The stuff you hid where my spare was supposed to be?”
“Yeah.”
“I still have it. I got a plan-- one where everybody wins. When can you pick it up?”
“ Tomorrow.”
“OK, call me when you hit the state line,” she instructs. “Oh and hey! I am going to need a $500,000 storage fee for this mess you got me into.”
“Oh, so what—now you think you are all Billy-bad-ass or something? Listen bitch…”
Veronica hangs up on him. What she has is worth millions of dollars. He can afford 500 grand. She then calls Sergeant Howell.
“Sergeant Howell, speaking.”
“Hello Sergeant, its Veronica. Listen, I have been trying to reach my cousin for two hours and I haven’t gotten a hold of him. Could he have gotten word that I was busted?”
“Impossible. Only you and Garret came into the station and he isn’t involved.”
“Right.”
“You and your cousin hadn’t made any definitive plans to meet yet, right?”
“No we hadn’t,” Veronica replies to throw off the Sergeant. As much as she can’t stand her cousin; she knows they’d go after her mom if she sets him up. Besides, she had it all figured out and was confident she could pull this off.
When she had found the first stash—a kilo of coke and the 4 bags of ecstasy-- in her trunk she drove it straight to her ex-boyfriend, Octavio’s, storage unit. He was out of town so often he hadn’t had time to get his keys back from her. In fact, she was positive he didn’t remember she had them. She knew it would be a safe place, since the storage unit wasn’t in her name and they weren’t together long enough for anyone to remember she even existed in his life. Octavio was a part time lover--never there and only good for one thing, and even that wasn’t all that great. Veronica chuckled to herself as she remembered the time she faked a headache until he left her apartment, only to reach for her vibrator.
“What’s so funny?” asks Howell.
“Nothing. I can’t believe I am in this situation is all,” replies Veronica.
Focusing back on task she schemes that as soon as she gives Arturo the load of illegal drugs she’ll give Howell the run around. He’ll assume that somehow Arturo caught wind that Veronica was brought in by the police and skipped town. Everything would work out, she assured herself. Arturo will get his stuff, I’ll get some money, and mom will be safe.
“Ms. Nunez, give me a call as soon as you get a hold of him. We’ll coordinate from there. You should know you are doing a great thing. You are very brave. Women like you are rare-- beauty and guts. You are amazing.”
Veronica doesn’t know how to take that statement and she ends the phone call. Great, the last thing she needs is for Howell to take a special interest in her. Please don’t like me. I don’t want you to have a puppy love crush on me. She discounts it as her overactive imagination and prepares for her final phone call—to Garret.
Just as she is about to call she notices a text message from him.
Veronica, I know you are embarrassed. You don’t have to be. Meet me at Ace’s Bar on 4th @7pm. I can’t wait to see you.
At 6:50pm Garret walks into Ace’s to find Veronica already sitting at the bar. A tinge of jealousy bubbles in his stomach as he notices a guy leaning on the bar next to her. Tilting his head towards her, smiling obnoxiously, while shooting glances at her breast. She is beautiful, wearing a pair of hip hugging jeans, a tight v-neck sweater and her hair wept up so you could follow the soft skin of her neck to her elegant shoulders. She glances over and their eyes connect.
“Garret! We were just talking about you. Tom, this is my boyfriend Garret; Garret, this is Tom.”
Tom shifts his weight to face Garret and extends his hand as Veronica motions to Garret to get rid of him.
“Nice to meet you Tom, and thank you for taking good care of my beautiful Veronica. Now, I don’t want to sound like a prick but I have been waiting all day to see her and I really need you to get out of my way so that I can give her a kiss.”
Tom steps away from the bar and before Veronica knows it, Garret has her head in his hands and brings her in close for a kiss. Her heart pounds with intense pressure as she lets go into the moment and kisses him back. An undeniable attraction causes them forget where they are until someone in the back yells out, “Get a room!” Garret pulls back and asks with a devilish grin, “What do you say?”
They don’t say a word as they walk toward the elevator in Veronica’s complex. As the doors slide close, Veronica presses the button and Garret spins her around and kisses her passionately. Overcome, she forces him back and pins him against the wall.
“This is crazy, Garret…”
Looking past Veronica’s shoulder Garret says, “Um, I think we are at your floor.”
Veronica turns around to find the elevator doors have opened with the Wongs and their pomeranian starring back at them. Veronica moves Garret’s hand from her ass and turns around.
“Hello Shuping and Ed. Sorry we were—uh…” says Veronica as she grabs Garrets hand and leads him out of the elevator past the Wongs.
“You know this is an elevator, not a home. You do that in your home!” yells Shuping as the dog yaps in agreement.
Laughing, they run to her front door and rush inside. The second the door clicks closed, they find their way back into eachother’s arms and move quicly back towards her room peeling clothes off and kissing. Veronica sits on her bed to wrestle her shoes off, when she glances up to see Garret standing in his boxers starring at her in the darkness.
“Whats wrong?” She asks.
“You are beautiful.”
Garret walks to her slowly as Veronica inches her way back on the bed. He rests his weight on her and kisses her again. This time tenderly and slowly. He can feel very ridge of her lips on his as he explores her body with his hands. She runs her hands down the muscles of his back and kisses his neck and shoulder. She adjusts her body under his weight and wraps her legs around his.
“Are you OK?” Garret asks.
“Yes,” Veronica whispers back as she reaches for her night stand and produces a condom.
Garret laughs, “Very slick. Gotta love a girl that is prepared”
Once ready, she pulls him back into her and whispers something Garret can’t make out. He slides himself into her and finds a rymthm that syncs with the motion in her hips. She makes it no seceret what she likes. Moaning and sighing with every motion. Veronica lets herself get lost in the moment. She needs this release and she holds him even closer to her.
Garret straightens his arms and watches Veronica’s face as she arches her back and climaxes. He wraps his arm under the small of her back and brings her body on top of his. He lays back and watches her roll her body on top of his as he places his hands on her hips to guide her movements. The sight of her drives him crazy and he brings her back down to him as he finishes.
Veronica rolls off of him and rests her head on his chest.
“Garret, I want to explain something to you.”
“Not now. Just rest…”
Just then, both of them flinch when they hear a knock at the door.
Friday, May 1, 2009
The Court Chronicles (A Blog Novella) - Part II, Chapter 8
A succession of door slams echo around Jay as he squints to make out the darken figures walking towards him. Jay prepares his face for this confrontation. He knows that it well be important for him to show no fear, no desperation, or doubt. Certainly these swaying shadows moving towards him are Vasquez’s men. They’ll want to know his plan. They’ll want good news to tell their boss. Immediately, Jay recognizes El Chulo-- Vasquez’s right hand man.
El Chulo is the only one in Vasquez’s group that has a street name. Vasquez wanted his cartel to run as a legitimate operation. “We don’t live in fear,” he was once heard declaring, “We don’t hide behind the names of boys. I pride myself on running a classy operation. One where men are guaranteed a quality product, and for that I will state my name proudly and so will my men. We will never carry monikers that are only suited for Dick Tracey comic book characters.” El Chulo was the exception to this rule.
As the story goes, he was found on the door step of the Vasquez’s family ranch. Every day Juana, the maid, would prepare the children for school. She’d hand them their lunch, lick down straying hairs and wipe the corners of their mouths. As was customary, Juana would also declare how wonderful, intelligent, and beautiful the children she cared for were.
As the children ran into the foyer from the kitchen, bellies full of arroz con leche and ready for school Juana declared, “Aye, míralos. Que lindos, inteligentes, y chu…” Juana’s daily pronouncement was interrupted by the cries of a baby just outside the front door. She moved slowly to pull the massive wooden door, and as it cracked open, sun light and louder cries filled the room. She moved to the infant and swept him up and asked him where he had come from and why he was crying. “Quizás quería que le dijeras que era chulo también. Maybe he wanted you to call him chulo, also,” offered one of the children. Juana agreed with the child and declared that the baby was the most wonderful and gorgeous child she ever laid eyes on. From that day on, Juana raised El Chulo as her own and even though she baptized him Emilio, the legend of his discovery followed him along with the name.
“Jay, I am sure you are not surprised to see me,” calls out El Chulo with his arms extended to his sides and a confident smile on his face. Jay is not surprised to see him but he wonders how El Chulo found out as fast as he did. The question must have been plain on his face because El Chulo offered a, “you know I have people everywhere.”
Jay swallows first before speaking. He decides to stall before giving up any of what he knows. “Chulo, none of this is necessary. I would have called you once I had Garret with me.”
“Now, Jay you know I like to be hands on. Phones calls are so impersonal. I’d rather look into your eyes. Now tell me, what has happened to Garret.”
“We’ve hit a slight snag. “
“Slight? I hear chotas are involved,” El Chulo gives Jay a sideways glance. His nickname suits him. He is indeed handsome. His beer-bottle-in-the-sun brown eyes sit in almond shaped perfection on his high cheek bones. “Don Vasquez wanted me to secure that you and Garret are not doing anything to jeopardize his good name. Now tell me Jay, what does she know?”
The predawn light seeps through the morning chill. Jay pinches the bridge of his nose. He looks around the other eight men surrounding him. Clones. Stone faces and Italian suits. “Chulo…”
“Find out what she knows and take care of it,” interrupts El Chulo. “Can you two handle that?”
“We can.”
“Good. Andale vamanos!”
In one sweeping arm movement El Chulo and his men return to their vehicles and drive off leaving Jay with sweaty palms and more bad news for Garret.
Veronica looks at her wrist watch. 5:15am. She hopes that Garret has been let go. For hours now she has been recycling the moments of the night in her mind. Everything that could have gone wrong on a date did. She hardly knew the guy but every time she shut her eyes, his face was all she saw. Was she starting to fall for this guy? How can that be? After a string of failed relationships, Veronica had made it a habit to look for everything that was wrong with the guy she was seeing. The lawyer that was overweight; she needed a guy who was athletic. The civil engineer with a high pitched voice; she would cringe whenever she spoke with him on the phone. The project manager with a messy bathroom; she couldn’t date someone whose house toilet she had to do the hover maneuver. Then there was Garret. What was wrong with Garret?
Howell steps into the interrogation room. He tells Veronica that they have been able to identify her cousin and judging by his priors, they don’t doubt that he would be involved in something like this.
“So can I leave?” asks Veronica drained and missing her bed.
“No.”
“Can you let go of Garret?”
“He has been let go and was picked up by Mr. Romero.”
“Jay!”
“Yes, I believe that was his first name.”
A hot flash of embarrassment comes over Veronica. Hopefully Jay will use some discretion at work and not tell everybody. He probably will never talk to her again. Neither will Garret for that matter. Why did this have to happen on a date with a nice guy?
“Ms. Nunez, you are turning red. Are you ok?”
“Yes, I am fine. When will I be able to go Sergeant?”
“Ms. Nunez, have you ever been involved in a sting operation?”
El Chulo is the only one in Vasquez’s group that has a street name. Vasquez wanted his cartel to run as a legitimate operation. “We don’t live in fear,” he was once heard declaring, “We don’t hide behind the names of boys. I pride myself on running a classy operation. One where men are guaranteed a quality product, and for that I will state my name proudly and so will my men. We will never carry monikers that are only suited for Dick Tracey comic book characters.” El Chulo was the exception to this rule.
As the story goes, he was found on the door step of the Vasquez’s family ranch. Every day Juana, the maid, would prepare the children for school. She’d hand them their lunch, lick down straying hairs and wipe the corners of their mouths. As was customary, Juana would also declare how wonderful, intelligent, and beautiful the children she cared for were.
As the children ran into the foyer from the kitchen, bellies full of arroz con leche and ready for school Juana declared, “Aye, míralos. Que lindos, inteligentes, y chu…” Juana’s daily pronouncement was interrupted by the cries of a baby just outside the front door. She moved slowly to pull the massive wooden door, and as it cracked open, sun light and louder cries filled the room. She moved to the infant and swept him up and asked him where he had come from and why he was crying. “Quizás quería que le dijeras que era chulo también. Maybe he wanted you to call him chulo, also,” offered one of the children. Juana agreed with the child and declared that the baby was the most wonderful and gorgeous child she ever laid eyes on. From that day on, Juana raised El Chulo as her own and even though she baptized him Emilio, the legend of his discovery followed him along with the name.
“Jay, I am sure you are not surprised to see me,” calls out El Chulo with his arms extended to his sides and a confident smile on his face. Jay is not surprised to see him but he wonders how El Chulo found out as fast as he did. The question must have been plain on his face because El Chulo offered a, “you know I have people everywhere.”
Jay swallows first before speaking. He decides to stall before giving up any of what he knows. “Chulo, none of this is necessary. I would have called you once I had Garret with me.”
“Now, Jay you know I like to be hands on. Phones calls are so impersonal. I’d rather look into your eyes. Now tell me, what has happened to Garret.”
“We’ve hit a slight snag. “
“Slight? I hear chotas are involved,” El Chulo gives Jay a sideways glance. His nickname suits him. He is indeed handsome. His beer-bottle-in-the-sun brown eyes sit in almond shaped perfection on his high cheek bones. “Don Vasquez wanted me to secure that you and Garret are not doing anything to jeopardize his good name. Now tell me Jay, what does she know?”
The predawn light seeps through the morning chill. Jay pinches the bridge of his nose. He looks around the other eight men surrounding him. Clones. Stone faces and Italian suits. “Chulo…”
“Find out what she knows and take care of it,” interrupts El Chulo. “Can you two handle that?”
“We can.”
“Good. Andale vamanos!”
In one sweeping arm movement El Chulo and his men return to their vehicles and drive off leaving Jay with sweaty palms and more bad news for Garret.
Veronica looks at her wrist watch. 5:15am. She hopes that Garret has been let go. For hours now she has been recycling the moments of the night in her mind. Everything that could have gone wrong on a date did. She hardly knew the guy but every time she shut her eyes, his face was all she saw. Was she starting to fall for this guy? How can that be? After a string of failed relationships, Veronica had made it a habit to look for everything that was wrong with the guy she was seeing. The lawyer that was overweight; she needed a guy who was athletic. The civil engineer with a high pitched voice; she would cringe whenever she spoke with him on the phone. The project manager with a messy bathroom; she couldn’t date someone whose house toilet she had to do the hover maneuver. Then there was Garret. What was wrong with Garret?
Howell steps into the interrogation room. He tells Veronica that they have been able to identify her cousin and judging by his priors, they don’t doubt that he would be involved in something like this.
“So can I leave?” asks Veronica drained and missing her bed.
“No.”
“Can you let go of Garret?”
“He has been let go and was picked up by Mr. Romero.”
“Jay!”
“Yes, I believe that was his first name.”
A hot flash of embarrassment comes over Veronica. Hopefully Jay will use some discretion at work and not tell everybody. He probably will never talk to her again. Neither will Garret for that matter. Why did this have to happen on a date with a nice guy?
“Ms. Nunez, you are turning red. Are you ok?”
“Yes, I am fine. When will I be able to go Sergeant?”
“Ms. Nunez, have you ever been involved in a sting operation?”
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Four Steps to a Great First Kiss
I formally apologize to my followers for not writing anything outside of the chapters to The Court Chronicles that Ike and I have pin-balled back and forth. The truth, I have had writers block, but I had an unexpected surge of inspiration today and here you go. Last time I wrote about how to become friends with an ex, today I give advice to my male readers….
Not too long ago I met a nice young man named IB (initials: to protect the innocent, however no one really knows this guy outside of his other nickname). He was a nice young man. He was attentive, had a quirky sense of humor and planned fun and different dates. IB stood slightly taller than I at about 5’9”, had thick hair and held a close resemblance to Mark Wahlberg. I guarantee that my female followers just gave a collective sigh. So what was wrong? What made me not call him back and how did he become the subject of ridicule in my circle of friends? Let me back up to paint an accurate picture to my readership.
We had just finished getting his car washed. I know that an errand on a date is a huge no-no, but it was after the fires and I insisted we go get it washed so the ashes wouldn’t ruin his paint. On the ride back to his place where we were going to bar-b-que, he kept giving me lovey-dovey eyes and I knew the first kiss was coming soon. We stepped out of his car, and as I came around to the front he stopped me and brought me close to him. He looked into my eyes and whispered, “I want to kiss you. Is that ok?” I laughed. I nodded. He held my face in his hands and brought me close for what I anticipated would be a tender and memorable kiss. I was wrong. At least half wrong; it was memorable. Lord knows I tried to forget.
IB, God bless his heart, was an awful kisser. Every move he made was wrong and invasive. He started by securing his lips around mine as though he was one of those fish that cleaned the undersides of humpback whales. Next, he forced his tongue down into my mouth and wiggled that sloppy piece of flesh haphazardly; a move I would assume was to show me what he would do to me “downtown”…he never got that far. And then in a fit of aggression, he became overcome with passion, grabbed the back of my head and brought me even closer, causing our teeth to clink together. I pulled away; afraid he had chipped an incisor which he saw this as an invitation to kiss my neck. More sloppy saliva and now was he biting me? Ouch. After that debacle, I never called him again.
“Why don’t you teach him how to kiss?” a friend offered.
“At 32, if he hasn’t got kissing down by now, he is a lost cause,” I countered. I believed with strong conviction that there was no saving him. The damage done. My attraction for him—gone. A new nickname born. From that day on my friends and I called him The Bad Kisser.
Gentleman, I know it will be easy to laugh this article off and say, “Wow, that’s cold Inez, “ But please read on. You might learn something.
Steps to a great kiss:
1. Don’t ever ask if you can kiss someone. It is lame and cowardly. If you have us in kissing-range-closeness chances are we want you to kiss us.
2. Start with a peck. This important for the first kiss. It shows that you are tender and considerate. Not a saliva wielding monster.
3. Part the lips slightly and gently nibble her bottom lip. Make sure to part the lips slightly, as to not get her chin as well. Try to stay on our lips. I know every woman cringes when we get spit in our nostrils.
4. Tongue. OK tongue is tricky. Women don’t mind tongue done in moderation. Introduce it slowly and gently. Please do not park your tongue in our mouths. Develop a rhythm, in and out, round and round, and every once in a while repeat step three. Really is all about the attention to the lips.
Note: DO NOT kiss like they do in porn. Not good. I could go on about what they get wrong in porn but for right now I advise to never make a pointy tongue and wiggle it in front of your girl’s tongue. Not sexy.
Not too long ago I met a nice young man named IB (initials: to protect the innocent, however no one really knows this guy outside of his other nickname). He was a nice young man. He was attentive, had a quirky sense of humor and planned fun and different dates. IB stood slightly taller than I at about 5’9”, had thick hair and held a close resemblance to Mark Wahlberg. I guarantee that my female followers just gave a collective sigh. So what was wrong? What made me not call him back and how did he become the subject of ridicule in my circle of friends? Let me back up to paint an accurate picture to my readership.
We had just finished getting his car washed. I know that an errand on a date is a huge no-no, but it was after the fires and I insisted we go get it washed so the ashes wouldn’t ruin his paint. On the ride back to his place where we were going to bar-b-que, he kept giving me lovey-dovey eyes and I knew the first kiss was coming soon. We stepped out of his car, and as I came around to the front he stopped me and brought me close to him. He looked into my eyes and whispered, “I want to kiss you. Is that ok?” I laughed. I nodded. He held my face in his hands and brought me close for what I anticipated would be a tender and memorable kiss. I was wrong. At least half wrong; it was memorable. Lord knows I tried to forget.
IB, God bless his heart, was an awful kisser. Every move he made was wrong and invasive. He started by securing his lips around mine as though he was one of those fish that cleaned the undersides of humpback whales. Next, he forced his tongue down into my mouth and wiggled that sloppy piece of flesh haphazardly; a move I would assume was to show me what he would do to me “downtown”…he never got that far. And then in a fit of aggression, he became overcome with passion, grabbed the back of my head and brought me even closer, causing our teeth to clink together. I pulled away; afraid he had chipped an incisor which he saw this as an invitation to kiss my neck. More sloppy saliva and now was he biting me? Ouch. After that debacle, I never called him again.
“Why don’t you teach him how to kiss?” a friend offered.
“At 32, if he hasn’t got kissing down by now, he is a lost cause,” I countered. I believed with strong conviction that there was no saving him. The damage done. My attraction for him—gone. A new nickname born. From that day on my friends and I called him The Bad Kisser.
Gentleman, I know it will be easy to laugh this article off and say, “Wow, that’s cold Inez, “ But please read on. You might learn something.
Steps to a great kiss:
1. Don’t ever ask if you can kiss someone. It is lame and cowardly. If you have us in kissing-range-closeness chances are we want you to kiss us.
2. Start with a peck. This important for the first kiss. It shows that you are tender and considerate. Not a saliva wielding monster.
3. Part the lips slightly and gently nibble her bottom lip. Make sure to part the lips slightly, as to not get her chin as well. Try to stay on our lips. I know every woman cringes when we get spit in our nostrils.
4. Tongue. OK tongue is tricky. Women don’t mind tongue done in moderation. Introduce it slowly and gently. Please do not park your tongue in our mouths. Develop a rhythm, in and out, round and round, and every once in a while repeat step three. Really is all about the attention to the lips.
Note: DO NOT kiss like they do in porn. Not good. I could go on about what they get wrong in porn but for right now I advise to never make a pointy tongue and wiggle it in front of your girl’s tongue. Not sexy.
Friday, April 17, 2009
The Court Chronicles (A Blog Novella) - Part II, Chapter 6
Click here to read Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.
Sergeant Howell drums his pen on the stainless steel table in front of him. He looks over the file in front of him and looks up and examines Veronica’s face. He tries to read her sincerity as she says, “Officer Howell…”
“It’s Sergeant Ms. Nunez.”
“Right, sorry. Sergeant Howell, Garret had nothing to do with any of this and I’ll take the full brunt of the consequences. Please let him go.”
“Ms. Nunez, why don’t you let me focus on the police work? I’ll decide who stays, who goes, and when any of that is going to happen.”
Sergeant Howell gets a text message on his phone and excuses himself from the interrogation room. He tells Veronica that he’ll be right back and that she should do herself a favor and be honest with him when he gets back. She nods solemnly. The door slams aggressively as she tries to collect her thoughts.
How could this night have gone so bad? I hope Garret is ok. He didn’t have to stay with me as we waited for the cops. A lesser man would have left me curb side. He has won me over and now I doubt he’ll want anything to do with me after this night.
Veronica looks down at her hands and reflects on how blue her hands look under the glow of the fluorescent lights. A minor observation to distract her from the reality of the situation. She is now going to have to decide how much of the truth she is actually going to tell Sergeant Howell. She knows how this works. Veronica is in real danger once the police are involved.
The door clicks open and Howell walks in and sits down with purpose. He looks at her intensely for an awkward amount of time. He looks back down at the file and opens it slowly, sighing, and making a wide range of moaning sounds as he goes over the arriving officer’s initial report. God, spare me the intimidation dramatics please, thinks Veronica.
“Alrighty, Ms. Nunez lets get to the bottom of this.” Howell clicks his pen several times before he continues, “Can you please explain to me why a young lady, such as yourself, with no priors, would have five kilos of marijuana and 100 pills of ecstasy in the trunk of your car?”
“Well offic…um sir…Sergeant, can I be frank?”
“I would prefer it.”
“I want to be honest with you. I really do. I want nothing more then to explain everything away to you, but I am afraid. These guys know where my family lives and I just can’t put them in danger.”
“Ms. Nunez, prison is not a good place for a pretty girl like you. Help us out and we’ll help you out. Plain and simple.”
Veronica begins biting on her lip and twirling her hair. “OK. I’ll tell you everything I know, if you promise me that I can call my mom. I’ll also need permission to go to Arizona to bring her back over here.”
“We’ll see what we can do.”
“You are going to have to do better then that Sergeant. My mother needs to be safe. I care less if I am in prison if my mother is not safe.”
Veronica locks eyes with Howell. He can tell by the forcefulness of her gaze that she will not back down from this request. He needs this break. He hasn’t solved a case in a month and his performance review is coming up. He smoothes down the corners of his well groomed mustache. “OK. I will personally drive you to Arizona. You have my word,” caves Howell.
Pleased with his word, she begins, “What do you want to know?”
“Start from the beginning,” Howell clicks his pen.
“I don’t know where the drugs came from, but I know who put them in my car. About 2 weeks ago I went back to Arizona to visit my family and my mother confessed to me that my cousin Arturo had been bullying her to use her car. My mother takes care of my grandmother and needs to take her to dialysis regularly and had turned him down repeatedly. I called him up to set him straight and he agreed to leave my mother alone if I would let him use my car. I did for the sake of my mother. Now, it is no secret what Arturo is involved in. I knew what he was going to use my car for but I just wanted my mother to have some peace.”
“So you admit that you knew he was going to transport illegal drugs with your car?” Howell questions as he scribbles a note in her file.
“No. I knew what he might use my car for. He never mentioned specifically what he would do. He borrowed my car one afternoon for two hours. I got it back just as I had given it to him, or so i thought. I didn’t think anything of it. In fact, I had forgotten all about it until tonight.”
“Says here in the report, Mr. Galles and you were on a date. Night golfing?” He smiles mockingly.
“Garret’s last name is Galles? Yes, it was our first date. I opened my trunk to get my golf clubs when I discovered what Arturo used my car for. It seems like my cousin decided to cram as much drugs as he could in the side compartments of my trunk. The small door buckled under the pressure and the packages tumbled into my trunk.”
“How do you know your cousin had anything to do with this? How can I trust what you say is true?”
“Sergeant, I called the police as soon as I opened my trunk. Why would I do that if they were my drugs? Besides, my cousin called me and left a message saying he wanted to come visit me next weekend. I think my cousin set me up as a mule, sir.”
“Can Mr. Galles cooperate that story?”
Veronica rolls her eyes at the absurdity of the question. “No sir, the man has only known me for a few hours. We nave been sitting here at the station in separate interrogation rooms for twice as long as our actually date was.”
“OK. I’ll be right back.” Howell closes his file and walks out.
Sergeant Howell drums his pen on the stainless steel table in front of him. He looks over the file in front of him and looks up and examines Veronica’s face. He tries to read her sincerity as she says, “Officer Howell…”
“It’s Sergeant Ms. Nunez.”
“Right, sorry. Sergeant Howell, Garret had nothing to do with any of this and I’ll take the full brunt of the consequences. Please let him go.”
“Ms. Nunez, why don’t you let me focus on the police work? I’ll decide who stays, who goes, and when any of that is going to happen.”
Sergeant Howell gets a text message on his phone and excuses himself from the interrogation room. He tells Veronica that he’ll be right back and that she should do herself a favor and be honest with him when he gets back. She nods solemnly. The door slams aggressively as she tries to collect her thoughts.
How could this night have gone so bad? I hope Garret is ok. He didn’t have to stay with me as we waited for the cops. A lesser man would have left me curb side. He has won me over and now I doubt he’ll want anything to do with me after this night.
Veronica looks down at her hands and reflects on how blue her hands look under the glow of the fluorescent lights. A minor observation to distract her from the reality of the situation. She is now going to have to decide how much of the truth she is actually going to tell Sergeant Howell. She knows how this works. Veronica is in real danger once the police are involved.
The door clicks open and Howell walks in and sits down with purpose. He looks at her intensely for an awkward amount of time. He looks back down at the file and opens it slowly, sighing, and making a wide range of moaning sounds as he goes over the arriving officer’s initial report. God, spare me the intimidation dramatics please, thinks Veronica.
“Alrighty, Ms. Nunez lets get to the bottom of this.” Howell clicks his pen several times before he continues, “Can you please explain to me why a young lady, such as yourself, with no priors, would have five kilos of marijuana and 100 pills of ecstasy in the trunk of your car?”
“Well offic…um sir…Sergeant, can I be frank?”
“I would prefer it.”
“I want to be honest with you. I really do. I want nothing more then to explain everything away to you, but I am afraid. These guys know where my family lives and I just can’t put them in danger.”
“Ms. Nunez, prison is not a good place for a pretty girl like you. Help us out and we’ll help you out. Plain and simple.”
Veronica begins biting on her lip and twirling her hair. “OK. I’ll tell you everything I know, if you promise me that I can call my mom. I’ll also need permission to go to Arizona to bring her back over here.”
“We’ll see what we can do.”
“You are going to have to do better then that Sergeant. My mother needs to be safe. I care less if I am in prison if my mother is not safe.”
Veronica locks eyes with Howell. He can tell by the forcefulness of her gaze that she will not back down from this request. He needs this break. He hasn’t solved a case in a month and his performance review is coming up. He smoothes down the corners of his well groomed mustache. “OK. I will personally drive you to Arizona. You have my word,” caves Howell.
Pleased with his word, she begins, “What do you want to know?”
“Start from the beginning,” Howell clicks his pen.
“I don’t know where the drugs came from, but I know who put them in my car. About 2 weeks ago I went back to Arizona to visit my family and my mother confessed to me that my cousin Arturo had been bullying her to use her car. My mother takes care of my grandmother and needs to take her to dialysis regularly and had turned him down repeatedly. I called him up to set him straight and he agreed to leave my mother alone if I would let him use my car. I did for the sake of my mother. Now, it is no secret what Arturo is involved in. I knew what he was going to use my car for but I just wanted my mother to have some peace.”
“So you admit that you knew he was going to transport illegal drugs with your car?” Howell questions as he scribbles a note in her file.
“No. I knew what he might use my car for. He never mentioned specifically what he would do. He borrowed my car one afternoon for two hours. I got it back just as I had given it to him, or so i thought. I didn’t think anything of it. In fact, I had forgotten all about it until tonight.”
“Says here in the report, Mr. Galles and you were on a date. Night golfing?” He smiles mockingly.
“Garret’s last name is Galles? Yes, it was our first date. I opened my trunk to get my golf clubs when I discovered what Arturo used my car for. It seems like my cousin decided to cram as much drugs as he could in the side compartments of my trunk. The small door buckled under the pressure and the packages tumbled into my trunk.”
“How do you know your cousin had anything to do with this? How can I trust what you say is true?”
“Sergeant, I called the police as soon as I opened my trunk. Why would I do that if they were my drugs? Besides, my cousin called me and left a message saying he wanted to come visit me next weekend. I think my cousin set me up as a mule, sir.”
“Can Mr. Galles cooperate that story?”
Veronica rolls her eyes at the absurdity of the question. “No sir, the man has only known me for a few hours. We nave been sitting here at the station in separate interrogation rooms for twice as long as our actually date was.”
“OK. I’ll be right back.” Howell closes his file and walks out.
Friday, April 3, 2009
The Court Chronicles (A Blog Novella) - Chapter 4
Hmm. I wonder if he likes seafood. I would love to split the tuna tartar with him. God, he is totally checking me out right now. Please look at your menu, Garret. You are making me blush. At least I know he is attracted to me. I think he might have been sporting a trouser tent earlier, but that could have been my imagination. He isn’t sixteen anymore, for Christ’s sake. Wait, do guys ever stop getting random erections? Mmm, that is definitely something I’ll google later. I think it is funny how “Google” is now a verb in my vernacular. If I write it, does it still need to be capitalized? Probably not, since I wouldn’t be using it as a proper noun. I’ll google that later, too. Oh my God my mind is wandering. Is this silence awkward now? Oh here comes the waitress.
“Hi, how are we doing tonight? Garrett?”
I look up from my menu. She knows him? Oh man there is some history between these two. Garrett’s brown eyes look like saucers and I think all the color has left his face. He was a golden Eric Estrada brown a minute ago, now he looks Don Johnson orange.
“Uh. Hey, how are you?” Garrett’s voice cracked. Either he is really nervous or he is going through a second puberty. That would explain the boner. “Ma… ma…”
“Marla. Don’t tell me you don’t remember me”
“No. No, or course not. How are you?”
“You already asked me that. Better now, for your information,” Marla says bitingly.
“Oh, good to hear.” Garrett looks at me to gauge how awkward this is. He continues, “Marla, I am sorry. Really I am, but right now isn’t a good time for me to get into this.”
Marla looks at me and rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Let me get you guys a different server. I want to stay professional so I am going walk away. You were always a lousy tipper anyhow.”
Garrett laughs nervously as though her last comment wasn’t a direct jab at his character. He is struggling to find something to say.
I’ll break the silence. “So how do you feel about splitting the tartar?”
“I feel I should explain…”
Oh God is he really going to open this ex-file on the first date?
“Marla and I dated a few years ago in college. She was a rebound. I was never really into her and I totally used her for the company and sex. I was fresh off a 4 year relationship with my high school sweetheart and at the time my heart was crushed.”
Wow. How do I make him stop?
“When I met Marla I was a player and a total puto. She was developing feelings, I wasn’t in the right mind set for a serious relationship and I was a dog to her. I realized I was being an idiot and I just stopped calling Marla without any explanation. I just didn’t know what to tell her. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Aside from the attitude you just witnessed, she was a pretty cool chick…”
“Garret?”
“Yeah?”
“Stop explaining please.”
“OK. Sorry.” Garret looks defeated. “This date is over isn’t it?”
“No!”
“Veronica, I think I might have ruined your first impression of me.”
“You’re embarrassed. What if I share something equally mortifying? Then can we move on with our evening?”
“It might help.” He is starting to relax and he just flashed me that cute smile of his. He has dimples. How adorable. I want to lick them. Wow on the first date, Veronica? Get a hold of yourself.
“How versed are you on feminine hygiene products?” I wince.
“I didn’t major in it but I have a basic knowledge.”
“OK.” Take a deep breath. God why am I going to tell him this story? “I am not sure if Jay told you but I am from Arizona. In Tempe there is a lake and every year they have an event called the River Rally. People make boats out of cardboard and they race them across the lake. Cardboard is a very unpredictable floating material so you can imagine the hilarity that ensues. It is tons of fun. Well, my best friend Karina got a team together in her office, and one of her co-workers had to drop out last minute. She knew I had a crush on this guy in her suite named Mike, so she asked me to fill in. I agreed but that morning I found out that Aunt Flo was in town. God, this is gross isn’t it? Why am I talking about this?”
“No, go on,” Garrett assures me. “I mean it isn’t my favorite topic before dinner, but I owe you since you were so accepting. Besides you can’t stop now. What’s that all about? You a quitter?”
“Smack talking, huh? Alright, I’ll keep going.” I take a sip of water before I continue, “Well not easily swayed from my goal of flirting with Mike, I decide to just use the appropriate feminine product and cease the day.”
“A tampon right?” interrupts Garrett as the waiter walks up.
“Uh.” He chuckles. “Hi folks. What can I get you guys to drink?”
“Are you ok with red wine, Veronica?”
“Sure.”
“We’ll have a bottle of the house merlot, please.”
“You got it. Right away.”
“Man, talk about coming into the conversation at the wrong time,” laughs Garrett.
“Sorry about that.”
“Why are you sorry? I can talk about TAMPONS!” exclaims Garrett as he looks around the room. “I am secure in my manhood.” Patrons look over at us in mild disgust. “Continue with your story, please.”
“OK but lower your voice. Geez. Where was I? Oh right, I knew I was going to need reinforcements so I brought an extra tampon in my purse. When I got there I realized I would not be able to have my purse with me all day so I grabbed one of the tampons, took it out of the applicator, and stored it in my sports bra. I rushed over to my team and off we went; out onto the water in our cardboard boat. Almost instantly we are capsized by one of our competitors and we find ourselves in the water. We get out on the shore giggling and Mike and I lock eyes, laughing about how we failed. He looks down at my chest and says, ‘Oh you got a piece of lake trash on you.’ Before I could look down, he grabs what is the string to my tampon and pulls it out of my bra. There he is, horrified, looking at my water saturated tampon dangling in his hand!”
“What did he do?”
“He freaks out and throws it back at me like menstruating is contagious. It hits me in the face. He apologizes, sort of, and walks away briskly in the other direction.”
“Ha ha ha. It hit you in the face? What did you do?”
“Picked it up. Threw it away and flirted with another cutie. A dude that can’t handle a tampon probably can’t handle much at all. I cut my losses and figured it was best that I found out what type of person he was early on. Would I have wished to have learned it in a less embarrassing manner? Of course, but life is funny that way.”
“It sure is. Hey, I know we ordered a bottle but what do you say we go somewhere else? I am seriously scared that Marla is going to spit in our food.”
“You have a very good point. She has been shooting daggers at us from the moment I started my tampon tale. If looks could kill. Let’s get out of here. What did you have in mind?”
“Hi, how are we doing tonight? Garrett?”
I look up from my menu. She knows him? Oh man there is some history between these two. Garrett’s brown eyes look like saucers and I think all the color has left his face. He was a golden Eric Estrada brown a minute ago, now he looks Don Johnson orange.
“Uh. Hey, how are you?” Garrett’s voice cracked. Either he is really nervous or he is going through a second puberty. That would explain the boner. “Ma… ma…”
“Marla. Don’t tell me you don’t remember me”
“No. No, or course not. How are you?”
“You already asked me that. Better now, for your information,” Marla says bitingly.
“Oh, good to hear.” Garrett looks at me to gauge how awkward this is. He continues, “Marla, I am sorry. Really I am, but right now isn’t a good time for me to get into this.”
Marla looks at me and rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Let me get you guys a different server. I want to stay professional so I am going walk away. You were always a lousy tipper anyhow.”
Garrett laughs nervously as though her last comment wasn’t a direct jab at his character. He is struggling to find something to say.
I’ll break the silence. “So how do you feel about splitting the tartar?”
“I feel I should explain…”
Oh God is he really going to open this ex-file on the first date?
“Marla and I dated a few years ago in college. She was a rebound. I was never really into her and I totally used her for the company and sex. I was fresh off a 4 year relationship with my high school sweetheart and at the time my heart was crushed.”
Wow. How do I make him stop?
“When I met Marla I was a player and a total puto. She was developing feelings, I wasn’t in the right mind set for a serious relationship and I was a dog to her. I realized I was being an idiot and I just stopped calling Marla without any explanation. I just didn’t know what to tell her. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Aside from the attitude you just witnessed, she was a pretty cool chick…”
“Garret?”
“Yeah?”
“Stop explaining please.”
“OK. Sorry.” Garret looks defeated. “This date is over isn’t it?”
“No!”
“Veronica, I think I might have ruined your first impression of me.”
“You’re embarrassed. What if I share something equally mortifying? Then can we move on with our evening?”
“It might help.” He is starting to relax and he just flashed me that cute smile of his. He has dimples. How adorable. I want to lick them. Wow on the first date, Veronica? Get a hold of yourself.
“How versed are you on feminine hygiene products?” I wince.
“I didn’t major in it but I have a basic knowledge.”
“OK.” Take a deep breath. God why am I going to tell him this story? “I am not sure if Jay told you but I am from Arizona. In Tempe there is a lake and every year they have an event called the River Rally. People make boats out of cardboard and they race them across the lake. Cardboard is a very unpredictable floating material so you can imagine the hilarity that ensues. It is tons of fun. Well, my best friend Karina got a team together in her office, and one of her co-workers had to drop out last minute. She knew I had a crush on this guy in her suite named Mike, so she asked me to fill in. I agreed but that morning I found out that Aunt Flo was in town. God, this is gross isn’t it? Why am I talking about this?”
“No, go on,” Garrett assures me. “I mean it isn’t my favorite topic before dinner, but I owe you since you were so accepting. Besides you can’t stop now. What’s that all about? You a quitter?”
“Smack talking, huh? Alright, I’ll keep going.” I take a sip of water before I continue, “Well not easily swayed from my goal of flirting with Mike, I decide to just use the appropriate feminine product and cease the day.”
“A tampon right?” interrupts Garrett as the waiter walks up.
“Uh.” He chuckles. “Hi folks. What can I get you guys to drink?”
“Are you ok with red wine, Veronica?”
“Sure.”
“We’ll have a bottle of the house merlot, please.”
“You got it. Right away.”
“Man, talk about coming into the conversation at the wrong time,” laughs Garrett.
“Sorry about that.”
“Why are you sorry? I can talk about TAMPONS!” exclaims Garrett as he looks around the room. “I am secure in my manhood.” Patrons look over at us in mild disgust. “Continue with your story, please.”
“OK but lower your voice. Geez. Where was I? Oh right, I knew I was going to need reinforcements so I brought an extra tampon in my purse. When I got there I realized I would not be able to have my purse with me all day so I grabbed one of the tampons, took it out of the applicator, and stored it in my sports bra. I rushed over to my team and off we went; out onto the water in our cardboard boat. Almost instantly we are capsized by one of our competitors and we find ourselves in the water. We get out on the shore giggling and Mike and I lock eyes, laughing about how we failed. He looks down at my chest and says, ‘Oh you got a piece of lake trash on you.’ Before I could look down, he grabs what is the string to my tampon and pulls it out of my bra. There he is, horrified, looking at my water saturated tampon dangling in his hand!”
“What did he do?”
“He freaks out and throws it back at me like menstruating is contagious. It hits me in the face. He apologizes, sort of, and walks away briskly in the other direction.”
“Ha ha ha. It hit you in the face? What did you do?”
“Picked it up. Threw it away and flirted with another cutie. A dude that can’t handle a tampon probably can’t handle much at all. I cut my losses and figured it was best that I found out what type of person he was early on. Would I have wished to have learned it in a less embarrassing manner? Of course, but life is funny that way.”
“It sure is. Hey, I know we ordered a bottle but what do you say we go somewhere else? I am seriously scared that Marla is going to spit in our food.”
“You have a very good point. She has been shooting daggers at us from the moment I started my tampon tale. If looks could kill. Let’s get out of here. What did you have in mind?”
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