Run the Risk Read online

  I was an incompetent guardian. Hell, maybe I should be the one to call CPS on myself. Or go turn myself in, wrists out like I’d committed some crime. I wondered if Alex would be better off.

  But I couldn’t do that.

  Dad would never stop trucking. Those roads were his sanity. If CPS gave us trouble, Alex would get spooked, and might even run away. I couldn’t let that happen.

  I had to make sure he always had a home to come to. The fact that he still came home at all was a good sign. It meant I hadn’t lost him to the Locos.

  Not yet, anyway.

  Before bed that night, I did something I never did. I opened the box.

  Mateo had always folded his notes into cool shapes. I picked up a heart-shaped one.

  Dear Grace,

  Sometimes when I look at you, I have this weird feeling that I’m seeing you for the first time. It’s like this flash—and it hits me that this beautiful, smart, amazing girl is actually my girlfriend. My Grace. I feel so damn proud.

  My hands started to tremble, and I closed up the note. Why couldn’t I throw all this stuff in the trash where it belonged?

  I picked up the silver promise ring, glittering with its tiny diamond, and I couldn’t help but think about the night we broke up.

  “You have to get out of the gang,” I’d said, closing my bedroom door. I didn’t want Alex to hear what we were talking about.

  Mateo stared at me. “Do you have any idea what Toro would do to me if I said I wanted out?”

  El Toro was the leader of the local Reyes. From what Mateo had told me, he looked and behaved like the bull he was named for.

  “If you keep doing deals for him, you’ll get locked up,” I said. “Isn’t standing up to Toro better than that?”

  “No.” A bead of sweat slid down the side of his face.

  My stomach tightened up. “I can’t handle this.” I curled up in a ball on my bed, hugging my knees to my chest. “I’m worried about you all the time. It’s making me sick.”

  My stomach problems were nothing new. The doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with me. They’d said it was probably anxiety manifesting in my gut. It made sense—the pain had started when Mom got sick. But it hadn’t ended when she’d died. The grief at her death, and now my worries about Mateo, made me downright ill.

  “I’m sorry, Grace. I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

  I raised my head from my knees and looked up at him. Was he really sorry? Or did he just wish I’d stop complaining?

  “I can’t get out,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “There’s no way out.”

  “There’s always a way.”

  He thought I lived in a fantasy world. But I couldn’t accept that he was locked into the gang forever. He had a bright future—athletics, academics. He could go in any direction he wanted. If he stayed in the gang, he didn’t have a future. How long before he was arrested or even killed by a rival gang member?

  “Tell Mig you want out,” I said. “Maybe he can talk to Toro for you.”

  His expression darkened. “You honestly think Mig would help me?”

  Okay, so maybe he had a point. His big brother wasn’t the answer. He was more likely the problem.

  “I love you, Grace.”

  I looked up, hit by the sadness in his eyes. I could tell he was scared. Maybe I should’ve just said I loved him too.

  But I didn’t. Desperation took over. “If you love me, you’ll find a way out.”

  His expression turned bleak. I knew I’d said the wrong thing. “I wish I could. But I told you, I’ve got no choice. I need you to understand that.”

  I stared at him. How could I understand it? How could I live with it?

  “I can’t.” I shook my head, staring down at my knees. “I can’t do this anymore.”

  He paused for a long moment. “You’re breaking up with me.”

  I didn’t look up to see his face. I didn’t want to see it. “I have no choice.”

  The next sound was the slam of my bedroom door. I rolled over on my bed and cried. He was angry, of course. We loved each other. We’d made promises. He probably thought I was abandoning him when he needed me. But it wasn’t my fault he’d joined Los Reyes. I couldn’t stand by and watch Mateo lose himself to a gang.

  The sharp pain of that moment jolted me back into the present. I wished I could black that night out of my memory. I hadn’t wanted things to end that way. But in the next few days, Mateo hadn’t shown up at school or returned my calls. Finally I’d gone over to his house and found him chilling on the porch with his gangbanger friends. He’d looked at me, dead-eyed, and told me to go home. I’d broken down in sobs on his lawn as his friends laughed at me.

  I placed the ring back in the box and shoved it to the back of my closet, promising myself to never open it again.

  THROWBACK

  THE NEXT NIGHT, LUKE SPENT most of his time standing near the entrance, smiling and shaking hands. But he wasn’t happy. Our numbers were down.

  Word of the fight must’ve spread through the neighborhood. If people started associating Cinema 1 with gang fights, we were done. Over.

  Luke wouldn’t let that happen—and it started with manning the door. Mateo stood at the door too, and even frisked some guys as they came in. Mateo was an impressive-looking security guard; his scarred face definitely had a don’t mess with me quality.

  Still, seeing Mateo by the glass doors made me chew my lip nervously. What if one of the Locos or Brothers-in-Arms wanted to do a drive-by?

  But the night passed without incident, thank God. And despite Luke’s mood, the party at his place was still on.

  Good.

  Saturday nights we always went to Luke’s after work. I looked forward to it all week long. It was the one night that I could blow off steam—let go of all my worries and responsibilities and just have fun. There was always plenty of takeout and drinks there, though I could never let him see me drinking. I really needed to party tonight. I’d spent my entire Saturday working on a sociology paper for my online course. I’d already redone my twelfth-grade politics and English online in the fall, and this was my last course to finish. I had to get accepted into Miami-Dade again. I had to get my life back on track after Alex’s drama had steered it off course.

  As I sold pretzels, I couldn’t help looking over at the front doors. Would Mateo come tonight?

  Doubted it. He’d never been a partier anyway. In fact, whenever he’d agreed to go to a party with me, he’d ended up pulling me into a room so we could make out.

  Heat poured over me at the memory. Did he think about those times too?

  He’d always respected my boundaries. Never pushed me further than I wanted to go. But damn, I wondered if he was still so passionate.

  Must. Not. Think. About. It.

  I thought about Feenix’s idea to use him. Could I do something like that? Should I lure him into Luke’s bedroom tonight, use him, then toss him out?

  I wished.

  After my shift was done, I hung around with Nina and Nyla Anderson at the burrito bar while Eddie, the assistant manager, collected and counted the tills. Nina and Nyla were twins who looked nothing alike. Nina was a tall, thin redhead with porcelain skin. Nyla was short and square-shaped with frizzy black hair and black eyes. It was to the point that everyone, even the twins themselves, speculated about whether they had different fathers. Apparently, it was medically possible. But it didn’t say a lot about their mom.

  Once Eddie was ready, we walked over to Luke’s place. Feenix had already left, since she and Kenny were celebrating their anniversary tonight. I looked over my shoulder to see that Mateo was still manning the doors. I guess he’d be the last to leave.

  I told myself not to worry. Mateo knew how to take care of himself.

  Luke lived in a swanky building. Although the doorman was a little white-haired man who couldn’t knock over a feather, he had the power to buzz us in. We rode the elevator up to the penthouse, and Eddie let us into the a
partment.

  Luke had the ultimate bachelor pad, worthy of a spread in GQ magazine. Everything was sleek and white except for a few splashes of art on the walls. His kitchen was all stainless steel and futuristic—there didn’t even seem to be handles on the drawers. As usual, the place was spotless.

  The apartment had floor-to-ceiling windows, and the view of Miami at night was breathtaking. While everybody dove into the liquor cabinet and Eddie called for takeout, I drank in the view.

  What a sweet life it must be. Luke was twenty-seven and had truly made it. He had all the money he needed and didn’t have to worry about anyone but himself. All I did was worry— about Alex, about college, about the next bill.

  “You spaced out or what?” I heard from behind me.

  Some guys would ask what I was thinking as I stared into the night. Eddie asked if I was spaced out. It was typical Eddie—he had a gift for saying odd things and for ranting about stuff nobody was interested in. He was twenty-five, skinny, with glasses and a soul patch. I’d heard that he’d quit college just shy of a degree because he was too lazy to take his last two classes.

  “Not spaced, no. What’d you order? I’m starving.”

  “Chinese tonight. From a good place, too.”

  “Luke’s feeling generous.”

  “Yeah, well, everybody held it down last night. He’s still pissed at himself that he wasn’t there when it happened.”

  “Poor guy.”

  I went over and turned the sound system on. It had taken me months to figure the thing out. Dance music blared out of it. With his biker past, I might’ve pegged Luke for a rock guy.

  When the rest of the crew came in later, I felt myself tense up. Mateo was here. He’d taken off the security outfit, and simply wore jeans and a gray T-shirt. For a second, his shirt clung to his washboard abs.

  Holy.

  My eyes raked over him. Shoulders, face, ass, legs—he’d filled out in all the right places. Feenix would totally approve of this reverse objectification.

  My mouth went dry, and I took a sip of my cranberry juice. Vodka and cranberry, of course. Luke wouldn’t have to know.

  Over by the sound system, Eddie and Nyla were debating about music.

  “I’m telling you,” Eddie said, “there’s been no original music since the grunge movement of the early nineties.”

  Nyla frowned. “The what movement?”

  “I take it you haven’t studied music history.” He rolled his eyes. “Haven’t you heard of Pearl Jam? Nirvana? Stone Temple Pilots? They actually wrote music. Came up with new melodies. Now all you have is recycled beats and manufactured music. What we call rock now is actually pop. It’s disgusting.”

  “That’s so dumb,” Nyla said. “There’s totally been new music since then. The new Selena Gomez album—hello!”

  Eddie pretended to gag. “Come on. All those pop artists—and it’s a stretch to use the word artist—are Auto-Tuned to make their voices sound okay. Most pop songs out there are written by one of five producers.”

  “I don’t have a problem with that as long as the music’s good and it has an actual message.”

  Eddie looked like he wanted to shoot himself. “What’s the message? Girls—be strong and don’t put up with cheating douche bags, but make sure to look hot anyway? That’s no message.”

  Eddie had a point, I had to admit. As I listened to the debate, I watched Mateo out of the corner of my eye. I saw him reach for a soda instead of a beer. Interesting. He’d always been pretty anti-alcohol, considering his older brother Mig was always getting trashed and getting into trouble. I guess that hadn’t changed.

  After a while, I ended up on the couch watching a rerun of Ridiculousness. Although the music was blaring, we didn’t need to hear the TV to laugh our asses off at the videos.

  Luke sat down next to me. I scooted a bit to give him room. It felt a bit weird when he was so close. He was a good-looking guy, with his big muscles and the deep dimple in his chin, and I couldn’t help but feel a ripple of attraction.

  “I fucking love this show!” he said. Outside of work, Luke shed the role of boss like an itchy sweater. He was just a cool, sometimes even goofy guy, who loved dumb TV and girlie drinks.

  When a commercial came on, Luke looked over at me. He was sipping a pink frothy cocktail. “How are ya, Grace? Things good?”

  “Yeah.” There was no point in spilling the beans about my brother. Saturday night wasn’t the time for depressing talk.

  “The day-care gig still going well?”

  I nodded. “It’s going great. This kid named Cameron has a crush on my friend Kylie. He trails her around all day. It’s so cute.”

  At that, he smiled. “Watch out. Once the little player gets the vibe she’s not interested, you’ll be next.”

  Laughter erupted around us, and I saw a replay of a guy getting slammed in the crotch with a bowling ball. Luke went “Ow!”

  I went to the bathroom, then made my way to the kitchen for another drink. Mateo was there talking to Eddie and Jamar, a college kid who worked the ticket line. Well, Eddie was doing most of the talking—he was ranting about the salaries of high-profile athletes. I poured myself another vodka and cranberry—light on the alcohol this time—to keep my buzz.

  Before heading back to the couch, I asked Eddie, “Can I catch a ride later?” Usually I got a ride with Feenix and Kenny, but I’d gotten a ride with him a few times. The only problem was that he usually stayed really late. But a ride’s a ride and I wasn’t going to spend twenty bucks on a cab.

  Eddie said sure, and I went back into the living room. My spot on the couch was taken, so I grabbed a kitchen chair and pulled it up near the others, enjoying the sweet tang of my drink.

  Soon after, the TV went off and a few of us started dancing. Luke joined in and waved his hands in the air. I lost myself in the music. I was in that spot between sober and sloppy, where I could let my thoughts go and just feel the music. At some point I became aware that Mateo had entered the room.

  As I danced, I had the feeling he was watching me. I looked over. A wild heat burned in his eyes but disappeared instantly. I must be imagining things. Mateo only looked bored.

  If I was being honest with myself, I’d admit that I wanted to affect him the way he was affecting me. I’d admit that I wanted to stir up the same memories, the same need, the same . . . pain.

  It suddenly hit me why Mateo’s reappearance in my life had fazed me. He reminded me of everything I’d once had and lost. I’d had the most amazing mom in the world, a happy little brother, and a boyfriend I’d loved. It was a moment in time that would never happen again.

  Once I’d danced myself out, I curled up on the loveseat and half dozed. It was still warm from whoever’s butts had been sitting on it. I was done drinking, and the weight of the week was crashing over me. But I was on Eddie’s schedule, and judging by the way he was rubbing up against Nina on the dance floor, it would be a while before I could go home. Sometimes I wondered why hot girls like Nina teased guys like Eddie. There was no way in hell she’d ever go for him, so why turn him on like that? Was it a pity thing?

  But those thoughts were too deep for me right now.

  Someone tapped my shoulder.

  “I’m leaving,” Mateo said, leaning over me. “I’ll give you a ride.” He followed my eyes to Eddie. “I don’t think he’s leaving anytime soon.”

  “Thanks.” I wasn’t stupid enough to pass up this chance to get home, even if it would be weird being alone with Mateo.

  After letting Eddie know, we said good-bye to anyone who noticed and took the elevator down to the parking garage. I hated parking garages. They were crime scenes waiting to happen—or maybe I’d just watched too many violent shows. I shivered.

  He noticed. “You cold?”

  “No.”

  Mateo drove a black Mazda coupe—a sporty car, low to the ground, with no tricked-out rims or anything to draw attention to it. He pulled out of the garage and we headed down th
e I-95. No need to give him directions at least.

  He switched the radio to WKTU, and I wondered if it was because he remembered it was my favorite station. It was strange, being this close to him after so long. I caught his scent—faint sweat and aftershave—and I had a flash of when he’d bike to my house on those hot summer days. He’d be dripping with sweat, a big smile on his face. I’d throw him a towel, bitch at him for not wearing a helmet, then I’d wrap my arms around him for a welcoming kiss.

  Despite the music, the silence between us was uncomfortable. For me, anyway.

  “How’s your mom?” I asked. I hadn’t met her many times, since I’d rarely hung out at his place, but I’d heard a lot about her. Mateo adored his mom.

  He turned the music down. “Taking it day by day. I got a place of my own a couple years back, but I see her every week. Still works at Walmart. Photo lab now.” He smirked. “Sees some weird shit.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Old men underwear selfies are big now.”

  “Yuck! Your poor mom.”

  “Yeah, well. It’s better than being a cashier.” He glanced my way with a little smile. I felt a jolt of attraction and a sudden, spine-melting memory of what it felt like to have his lips on mine. Hoping he couldn’t guess the direction of my thoughts, I turned to look out the window.

  The silence was back, and even thicker this time, like a dense fog over dark roads.

  “And Mig?” I said. “Still getting into trouble?”

  “He’s locked up.”

  “Oh.” I shouldn’t be surprised that Mateo’s big brother had been locked up. Still, I felt bad for Mateo and his mom. “Sorry to hear that.”

  He shot me a glance, as if to say, Are you really?

  I’d never liked his brother. I’d hated him, in fact, for pressuring Mateo to join the gang. It felt like we’d spent months fighting for Mateo—and Mig had won.

  “How long’s he in for?”

  “Life. He has a chance of parole after twenty-five years.”

  I swore. “What’d he do?”

  “He and his buddy Yellow had a plan to rob this lady. She’d been waiting in her car to pick up her daughter from dance class.” His voice was stony, emotionless. “The lady ended up getting shot in the chest.”