BLUE
I promised myself I’d never come back to this place, but thanks to my completely warranted paranoia, here I am.
All through practice, I kept wondering what would’ve happened if Ricky had been just a little later. Would my sister be another missing southside girl? By the time we were let out and I changed, my mind was completely made up. I can’t just sit around waiting for the worst to happen. I need to be ready.
For anything.
At one point, visiting Louisiana felt like a burden. It was the fear of having to fake my way through the holiday to avoid bringing West down. But all things considered, I can’t wait to get the hell out of here. At least in Dupont Bayou, there’s no Pandora, no danger, and no Vin. Only safety—which I miss more than anything these days.
A car whizzes by and I rush to hide behind the cover of a large oak tree. I wait to make sure the person doesn’t brake, then step out onto the sidewalk again.
Based on X’s last post about Mr. Holiday losing one of his dealerships, it’s clear whoever this imposter is, they’re out for blood. Who knew a hostile Pandora takeover could be so brutal? Considering who I’m certain is behind those posts, the last thing I need is for him to know my next move, so I took extra precautions tonight. Like leaving my car at home and choosing to walk instead. It’ll be easier to duck and hide from prying eyes on foot than in my big, blue hooptie. But now that I’ve reached my destination, instinct tells me there’s more to fear than a photo of me going viral.
Still, despite the pit in my gut, I knock. Like before, the ferocious dog goes nuts on the other side of the threshold. And like before, the door opens and Tommy’s staring back at me.
“Back so soon, Lil’ Ruiz?”
I don’t bother correcting him this time.
“I need to finish what we started,” I say in a rush, glancing over my shoulder. While it’d be best to do this indoors, I won’t make the mistake of asking again. He’s made it clear he does business a certain way and won’t deviate from his usual practice just for me.
“Told you you’d be back. Hang on a sec. I set something aside already.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes and instead just stand shivering in the cold while I wait, thinking of all the reasons coming here was a shit idea, but also knowing I don’t have much choice.
The Navarro family was once synonymous with the Ruizes, but at some point, Tommy’s father and uncles chose to go their own way. They branched off into similar yet separate areas of business, but the separation created a serious rift between the two families. One that’s left them just short of being enemies. However, blood ties have been made along the way—marriages and shared descendants—keeping both in their own lane, despite the mutual dislike between them. If it weren’t for the fact that I attended South Cypress High with members of both families, I wouldn’t likely know any of this, because for the most part, both sides keep the falling-out private.
Still, I was a firsthand witness to Tommy and Ricky’s friendship sliding off track.
It feels like an hour’s passed by the time I hear Tommy’s footsteps on the other side of the threshold, bringing me hope that I’ll be able to leave here soon. The door swings open and my gaze lowers to the moderately sized box he’s holding.
“Thank you,” I rush to say, reaching for the security door, only to find that it’s locked.
“Slow down, Lil’ Ruiz. Didn’t your momma ever teach you any manners?” he asks with a grin. “We need to talk money.”
That word makes my throat feel tight and my stomach rolls. He seems to notice and narrows his eyes toward me.
“How much you got on you?”
I swallow hard before speaking. “I have fifty I was supposed to use on groceries, but I can get you more by the weekend.”
He’s laughing before I can even finish speaking. “Now I see why you were trying that little snatch-and-grab move. You know that’s not even in the ballpark of what a piece like this costs, right?”
He shakes his head and attempts to close the door, causing my desperation level to creep just a bit higher.
“Name the price?”
He pauses, which means I have his attention again. “You really need this thing, don’t you?”
A frustrated sigh leaves me, but I’m more than aware that he’s calling the shots here. It’s his game and I asked to play it.
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
His head cocks to the side and I hate feeling like an insect caught in his web, but there’s no other way to describe it.
“I’m curious. What’s so bad that a girl like you needs a gun?”
He asked this very question the last time I showed up on his doorstep and I sidestepped it. Something tells me he won’t be so passive this time.
“Just for protection,” I answer.
A chilled breeze sweeps through and I hold my breath, thinking he’ll pry for more details, but surprisingly, he doesn’t. He just moves on.
“So, you and the rich boy just fuck-buddies, or is it serious?”
As much as I don’t want to answer any of his questions, this one is the lesser of two evils.
“It’s serious,” is all I say.
That smug look on his face doesn’t leave when he nods.
“Either way, you were smart to get out from under Ricky. The streets are heating up more every day. Be a shame for you to lose him to prison like you did Hunter. Or, you know, worse.”
My gut twists when he says that, and I lose focus a bit.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Tommy shrugs and he’s smiling a bit now. “Nothing in particular, but you’ve at least heard the Ruizes haven’t exactly been making friends lately.”
“Your dad and Paul have been at each other’s throats for years now. That’s nothing new.”
“Damn, you miss everything being at that fancy-ass school, don’t you?” he says with a dark laugh. “Paul’s got bigger enemies than Pop. Been a lot of hotshots from out-of-state sniffing around Cypress Pointe the past few months.”
“Like who?”
The question makes his smile grow. “Thought we weren’t sharing information?”
My breathing quickens and I hate everything about this. He knows Ricky and I are close—even if he’s currently on my shit-list for being late, and I’m ignoring his texts—but of course I’d want to know if there was something happening that he needs to look out for.
“I’ll let you have this one for free since you’ve been out of the loop,” Tommy teases. “The O’Farrell family—heard of ‘em?”
I shake my head, feeling my stomach sink for reasons I don’t yet understand. “No, who are they?”
“Bad motherfuckers from Boston,” he answers. “They’ve been doing an awful lot of business in the city lately.”
“Is… that a bad thing?”
I feel so naïve asking that, especially seeing as how my gut’s already answered that question for me.
“Started out friendly enough, but some would say that ain’t the case anymore. My sources tell me the O’Farrells have been trying to do too much too soon, taking a bigger piece of the proverbial pie than what’s been offered. That’s the problem with parasites, though. Leave ‘em unchecked and they tend to kill the host,” he adds. “Guess that’s why it’s been decided not to leave that shit unchecked.”
My heart’s in my throat now, and I’m afraid to think of what this all means for Ricky—directly, indirectly.
“But enough about the family business,” Tommy continues with a smile. “You got any idea how to use this thing?”
My gaze shifts to the box he holds and, suddenly distracted by my own rampant fear, I take a few seconds to answer.
“It’s been a while.”
“Which means no,” he scoffs. “Guess you better block off a weekend and find some YouTube videos. I’m in sales, not training.”
I don’t bother explaining that, back when Mike was still on the force, he did teach Hunter and me how to load and handle a handgun. Partly, I keep this to myself because I don’t feel like sharing anything personal at the moment. But I also don’t speak up because it almost sounds like he’s letting me take the box. I’m reluctant to get my hopes up, though.
“Fifty now, because I know shit’s been tough for you since Hunter left, but I expect weekly payments until I say we’re square. Understood?”
I nod and fish the money from my pocket. “Understood.”
He hesitates as he stares at the chump-change I’m offering, and when he unlocks the security door to take it, he curses to himself through the entire exchange.
“Don’t make me come find you to get my money,” he warns. “I don’t care how far back we go; I always get what’s mine.”
I’m shivering as I step down off his porch, and it has nothing to do with it being cold as balls out here, while having everything to do with what my gut’s telling me—I’m about ninety-nine percent certain I’ve just made a huge mistake.
But like with all things, time will tell.
@QweenPandora: Looks like I’m bringing you folks a double-header tonight, and this one’s kind of juicy.
There’s been talk that the Harrisons’ marriage is on its last leg. Until now, it’s all been rumors, but this pic of Cypress Pointe’s beloved headmaster and his better half leaving a counselling session—looking rather distraught, might I add—seems to confirm that theory.
What happened? Wifey’s penchant for a fresher, younger cut of meat finally taking its toll? Or perhaps someone has some real insight into what’s going on. Got something to add? I’ll be here all night.
Later, assholes.
—X
