High-Caliber Concealer (24 page)

“Is that Jackson’s truck?” said Jenny
pointing.

“Yeah,” said Nikki. “Although, how you can
tell one jacked-up F-150 from another is beyond me. I think that’s
why so many of them have stickers on the bumpers. It’s so they
don’t get into the wrong truck at WalMart.”

“Nikki!” said Jane again.

“What?”

“Now you’re redneck stereotyping.”

“Jane,” said Z’ev gently, “you know she does
it on purpose, right?”

“Does what?”

“She says non-PC crap just to mess with
you,” said Jenny. “Although, that is totally true about the bumper
stickers and WalMart.”

“Nikki, do you do that? And Jenny, stop
slandering citizens of rural areas.”

“Of course I do that,” said Nikki.

“Rednecks,” said Jenny. “We’re rednecks. And
we like trucks, WalMart, and beer. Get over it.”

“I don’t think,” began Jane, and then they
rounded the corner to the back of the house and stopped. The patio
of the Fernandez household was strung with party lights and held
about two hundred people. In the gathering gloom of nightfall the
looming hulks of the junkyard could be seen off to the left and the
river glittered in the distance, reflecting the last few rays of
sunset. “Oh,” said Jane. “We didn’t bring enough pie.”

“Nikki!” shouted one of the people in the
crowd.

Nikki’s head swiveled, trying to spot the
source. A tall brunette made her way off the dance floor, swaying
slightly. It was a little difficult to tell if Gloria Estefan had
been right and the rhythm had gotten her or if it was the rum and
coke in her hand.

“Hey, Jackie! Everyone, this is Donny’s
cousin, Jackie.” She embraced the dark-haired girl in the sequined
blue top.

“Donny said you were coming! I said I’d
believe it when I saw it.”

“Why wouldn’t I show up?” asked Nikki.

“Because you’re all ‘big time, I make out
with rock stars’ now.”

Next to her, she felt rather than heard Z’ev
make an annoyed grunt.

“Yeah, that was kind of a misunderstanding,”
said Nikki.

“I don’t think he misunderstood where his
hands were. That guy is super hot.”

“Jackie, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend,
Z’ev Coralles,” Nikki interjected, trying to divert the flow of
conversation.

“Ha!” Jackie laughed and tipped a little of
her drink out onto the ground. “Awesome. Donny and Jackson are over
there somewhere.” She waved in the general direction of the
bar.

“Good,” said Z’ev. “I could use a
drink.”

“I’m following him,” said Jenny.

“Ditto,” said Ellen.

“I brought pie,” said Jane, looking star
struck at Jackie.

“Jackie, this is Jane,” said Nikki.

“I like pie,” said Jackie.

“Jane’s a little bit of a lesbian,” said
Nikki.

Jane looked horrified.

“So am I!” yelled Jackie, throwing up her
hands, flinging more of her beverage around. “This will be
awesome—later we can make out. But the real question is, do you
know how to dance?”

Jane looked back as Jackie led her away, and
Nikki waved goodbye. “I think we may need to go rescue Jane later,”
said Nikki, joining the group at the bar and fishing around in one
of the ice buckets for a soda pop.

“There’s beer on tap and margaritas in the
pitcher,” said Ellen, looking up from her conversation with
Donny.

“What’d you do, send her off with Jackie?”
asked Donny. “You’re never going to see her again. There’s real
booze back here ,too. I found Z’ev some nice bourbon.”

“I want to play tag later,” said Nikki. “I
don’t want to get too drunk.”

“We’re not going to play tag,” said Donny
dismissively.

“You say that every time,” said Nikki. “And
then your dad brings out the flashlights.”

“Yeah, but we’re all too old and too drunk
for that,” said Donny.

“That’s why I’m drinking soda.”

“Tag?” asked Ellen.

“Flashlight tag or jailbreak,” said Nikki.
“Out in the car field. It’s fun. We used to do it all the time when
we were kids.”

“No, seriously, we don’t do it anymore,”
said Donny. “The little kids aren’t old enough, and the old kids
are too old and fat.” He patted his stomach, which was far from
fat.

“Oh,” said Nikki, feeling a wave of
nostalgic sadness. “I was looking forward to that.”

“If you want, you can borrow some
flashlights and walk out there though,” said Donny. “I’m sure Dad
still has them all prepped up and ready to go.”

“Maybe. It’s not the same if no one’s
chasing you.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” said Donny,
laughing.

“What are we talking about? Who’s it for
tag?” asked Jackson. “I came prepared. I wore tennis shoes instead
of boots.” He held up one foot to demonstrate.

“Are you sure you won’t lose some sort of
cowboy points for not wearing boots?” asked Nikki.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty in the bank,”
said Jackson, smirking.

“You guys, we’re not playing tag,” said
Donny.

“What?” Jackson looked at Nikki for
confirmation and Nikki shrugged.

“But I’ve been training for
American Ninja Warrior
. I was totally going to kick
your ass tonight.”

“That is literally my favorite show,” said
Jenny.

“I built a warped wall in my barn,” said
Jackson. “You can try it if you want.” Jenny’s eyes widened as if
he had offered her a stack of gold.

“Yes, but her second favorite show is
The Bachlorette
,” said Nikki.

“What? That show is terrible.”

“I like to make fun of the contestants and
throw things at the TV,” Jenny said, glaring at Nikki.

“That could make it more fun,” agreed
Jackson. “But you’d still have to watch it.”

“The three amigos!
Juntos
otra vez
!”

“Nikki, Jackson, you remember my dad. Dad
these are Nikki’s friend’s Ellen, and Jenny. Jane is somewhere with
cousin Jackie.”

“Nunca podría volver a
verla
.”

“Hola
, Mr.
Fernandez,” said Nikki as he hugged her. “
Esta es
mi novio, Z’ev Coralles
.“

“Es grande
,” he
said, shaking hands with Z’ev.

“He also
habla
espanol
,” said Z’ev.

Mr. Fernandez laughed. “That’s good.
Jackson,” he reached out to shake Jackson’s hand. “Always so good
to see you. Thank you for helping my nephew get that job in
Calgary.”

Jackson shrugged. “Any time.” Donny looked
from his father to Jackson. “Talented horse people are hard to come
by. My friend was happy to have qualified help.”

“When did you do that?” asked Donny.

Jackson shrugged again. “Couple of years
ago, when your dad called.”

“My dad called? Why does no one tell me
these things?”

“Mr. Fernandez, Donny says we’re not playing
flashlight tag,” said Jackson, ignoring Donny.

“You want to play tag? Of course, we can
play! I will get the flashlights!”

“What’d you do that for?” demanded Donny.
“Now he’s going to try and roust the whole party.”

“Good,” said Jackson. “Nikki and I want to
play.”

“That’s right,” said Nikki. “Now pick whose
team you’re going to be on.”

“Oh, come on,” whined Donny. “This is why I
hate playing with you guys. I always have to pick and then there’s
the running. I hate the running.”

“You getting tubby in your old age?” Nikki
poked him in the side.

“I think so,” said Jackson. “Tubby and soft.
He doesn’t want to lose.”

“This is ridiculous,” said Donny, batting at
their fingers. “I’m not choosing.”

“OK,” said Jackson. “We’ll pick. I get Jenny
and Ellen.”

“That’s my team! You can’t have my
team.”

“They’re my team now. You can have Donny and
Es Grande
,” said Jackson.

Nikki looked doubtfully at Donny and Z’ev.
“Fine, but I’m keeping Jane.”

“That’s cool with me because if you’ve got
Jane you’ve also got Jackie.”

“Damn it!”

“The tactical errors keep piling up. You are
going down, Red.”

“Why do I feel like we just got picked last
in gym class?” asked Donny, turning to Z’ev.

“Because we just got picked last in gym
class,” said Z’ev. “Nikki, this isn’t going to be another paintball
situation, is it?”

“No, because Jackson’s not a whiner like
those stock brokers,” said Nikki. “Come on, we need to find Jane.
And Donny, you need to help me pick out your most athletic, least
drunk relatives.”

“What happened in paintball?” asked
Donny.

“Some stock brokers got painted with extreme
prejudice,” said Z’ev.

By the time they were all gathered around
the red Buick and Mr. Fernandez had set up the judge’s lawn chair
and the judge’s margarita pitcher, the teams were fairly evenly
divided. A few younger cousins and Donny’s marathon-running uncle
had migrated to Nikki’s team, while Jackson had pulled the weight
lifting auntie and the spin-class obsessed mother of twins who
looked about as competitive as Nikki. Nikki made a mental note to
put her down for Carrie Mae outreach. There was no reason not to
have a Carrie Mae operative in Kaniksu Falls.

“OK,” said Mr. Fernandez, passing out a
flashlight and a strip of blue or red cloth to each player. “The
red Buick here is jail. If you get caught you have to go to jail.
You can escape from jail if someone on your team sneaks up, touches
the Buick and yells ‘jail break.’ In order to get caught the other
team must shine their flashlight on you, and yell your name. If you
don’t know the person’s name you can yell ‘Blue, I see you.’ Once
caught, you must be escorted back to the Buick. You must leave your
flashlight on at all times. The boundaries are the road, the green
Chevys, our property line, and the junkyard fence. The game ends in
one hour. Nikki’s team are the foxes, Jackson’s team are the
rabbits. Rabbits you get a two minute head start.” Mr. Fernandez
checked his watch.

“I don’t have the appropriate gear for
this,” said Jane. “We need radios, night vision. Maybe some
sonar.”

“Hour starts now. Run, rabbits, run!” Mr.
Fernandez threw his hand up in the air and Jackson’s team
scattered.

Nikki, turned and inspected her team. “Jane
and Jackie are going to be the jailers. They’re in charge of
patrolling to make sure no one sneaks up and releases our
prisoners. Jane, if you could figure out how to climb up into the
Buick and yell directions if you spot anyone, that would be really
helpful. Everyone else, pair up. If you catch someone, one of you
escorts the prisoner, the other keeps looking. But agree on a
meeting point before you separate. Remember, if Jane yells
directions, they will all be based off the Buick. Three o’clock
will be passenger side, six will be roof side, nine will be the
driver’s side, etc. Also, does every team have a watch or a phone?
Good. Let’s all meet back here in twenty-five minutes. We’ll assess
who we’ve caught and who’s still missing.”

“Two minutes is up!” yelled Mr. Fernandez
settling into the lawn chair, carefully balancing his margarita and
his iPhone. “Hurry up, Team Red. I’m live tweeting who gets
caught!”

“You tweet? My father tweets. This is just
great.”

“You don’t follow me?” demanded Mr.
Fernandez. “I’m @KingMoustache. I have three thousand
followers.”

“I’m following you now,” said Jane, whipping
out her phone. “I’m @BlackDeath.”

“Nikki,” Donny said, shaking his head,
“
Tío
Eli, and I are leaving now because I
cannot have this conversation. But I want you to know that I blame
you for making me run just when I was getting a good buzz on.” The
pair jogged off, Eli setting the pace, Donny following reluctantly
after.

“Ready?” asked Nikki, turning to Z’ev with a
smile.

“Honestly, no. Somehow I’m never quite ready
for when you go rogue commando on me.”

“I don’t go rogue,” said Nikki. “I just go
commando.”

“That’s true,” said Jane. “She doesn’t like
panty-lines.”

“We’re leaving now,” said Nikki, sticking
out her tongue at Jane. Jane waved, already scrutinizing the red
Buick, trying to figure out the best way to climb it.

The air was hot and smelled of dried grass
and the damp mud of the river. Nikki and Z’ev waded through the
waist-high grass, their flashlights swinging in wide arcs. The
hulking pillars of planted cars loomed around them in the darkness
and above them the stars littered the sky untainted by the
competing glow of city lights.

“It’s nice out here,” said Z’ev looking
around and taking a deep breath.

“Yeah,” said Nikki, reaching for his hand
and leaning into his shoulder. “This is one of my favorite parts of
being here.” She looked up at the stars. “When you can see all the
stars, you realize that it’s not really dark. You can’t see any
stars in LA.”

“We can see one or two,” said Z’ev.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do.” He put his arm around her and
for a moment everything was perfect.

“Two flashlights, twelve o’clock!” bellowed
from Jane behind them. Nikki took off at a sprint.

Forty minutes later, Nikki was gasping for
air. Z’ev was escorting Jenny to the Buick. Flashlights bobbed in
the field like fireflies. Still no sign of Ellen, but then she
didn’t really expect to find Ellen. She just wanted to get Jackson.
Ahead of her, Jackson monkey-climbed over a tractor, bounced off
some sort of Honda, and sprinted for the fence line. Nikki
hesitated.

The field of cars was mostly rectangular,
except for one part where the junkyard pushed out into the field.
Jackson was following the fence line along the bulge, swinging back
toward the Buick. It was clear that Jackson really had been
training. He was definitely faster than her and his vertical leap
was impressive. He’d cleared that loose cow without breaking
stride, much to the cow’s dismay.