ONE SMALL VICTORY (18 page)

She purposely let the sentence fade and he
finally spoke. “I just hate the way things are at home.”

Jenny touched his face, forcing him to look
at her. “I don’t like it either. But you’re going to have to trust
me on this. It’s important.”

“But you don’t trust me enough to tell me
what’s going on. And I know something is.”

“That wasn’t my decision to make. Believe
me.”

A shadow of doubt clouded his eyes for a
moment, then he sighed. “Two weeks?”

“I hope.”

“Not a day longer.”

“I hope not.”

~*~

Chico leaned against the passenger door of
Frank’s Lexus, fingering the cool steel of the 38 Police Special in
his jacket pocket. In a little while he was supposed to take that
gun out and shoot a man. Could he do it?

Despite all the macho talk and swagger he put
on with the best of them, at heart Chico squirmed if he thought too
hard about where his steak originated. But somehow he had the
feeling that the answer to his mental question better come up
‘yes.’ Frank must’ve told him a hundred times how the Boss was
counting on him. How important it was to the Boss to show this
Johnny, and anyone else who was tempted to fuck with him, what the
consequences were. Translation: if Chico fucked this up he could
kiss his ass goodbye.

The night grew darker as they left the
busiest section of Denton behind and entered that section of
Interstate 35 that didn’t host a gas station and fast-food joint
every hundred feet. The access road bordered a stand of trees that
cast vague gray shadow against the black sky.

Some of those trees could have been there
since the first settlers pushed down from the northern plains and
claimed this little section of North Texas. And it was into those
trees that Frank turned after exiting the freeway.

“Johnny thinks we’re bringing him some stuff.
So I’ll get a bag out of the trunk. We’ll both take it to him, and
that’s when you pop him.”

Chico remained quiet as Frank nosed the car
down a narrow, rutted, dirt road. It ended near a clearing where an
old shed stood on three listing posts, scraps of wood and tin
clinging precariously to rotting timbers. Their headlights
shimmered on a sleek, dark Miata that stood in sharp contrast to
the aging building.

Frank let his car roll to stop, then killed
the engine. A door opened on the Miata and Johnny stepped into the
glow of the headlights. Chico fumbled with the handle of the door
and tried not to think about what he had to do. Frank was already
out and heading toward the trunk.

Johnny stayed by his car, and Frank called
out to him. “The Boss says you should beef up your sales. We got
some extra for you.”

“New breed of students this year.” Johnny
said. “Most of them are just saying ‘no.’”

Chico tried to let the feeble joke relax him
as he stepped out and waited for Frank to come around from the rear
of the car, but it didn’t work. A trickle of cold sweat crawled
down his spine, and his hand trembled on the butt of the gun in his
jacket pocket.

“Come on,” Frank said, stepping up beside
him. “Time to rock and roll.”

Following a few steps behind, Chico swallowed
hard. As Frank handed the bag to Johnny, he glanced back. The
moment seemed to freeze in time as Chico considered the hard set of
the Frank’s face. The directive was unmistakably clear. Chico
willed his heart to stop hammering in his chest. It pounded so loud
in his head, he was sure the other men could hear it. He needed to
be calm. He needed to be clear. He needed to do the job he was
brought here to do. Yet, he didn’t move as Johnny took a step away
from Frank and reached for his car door.

“Chico.”

The word was less a question than a command
and knowing the consequences if he didn’t, Chico tried to obey. But
his brain seemed to have shut down. It still wouldn’t give the
command to his arm to move.

“I can’t.”

“Oh, shit.” Frank drew a Glock out of his
pocket and fired one shot. Johnny clutched his chest where the
bullet had torn through his jacket and then his body. His blood
oozed in a dark tide through his fingers. Then he slid down the
side of his car, his gurgle of death the only sound to be
heard.

For a moment Chico considered whether he
could run. And where he could hide if he did. Then Frank took one
step toward him, gun pointing slightly down.
Maybe he’ll let
me
—

The thought was cut short as Frank raised the
barrel of the gun. “I’m real sorry about this,” he said. “We never
had no trouble. But it’s my neck if I don’t. You understand that,
don’t you.”

Chico almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity
of that, but he knew the moment was beyond that. He nodded, then
closed his eyes and said the prayers his mother always badgered him
about. Did he even dare hope that God would rest his soul?

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“And your Mom? She didn’t, like, ground you
for the rest of your life?”

Scott smiled at the incredulous expression on
Caitlin’s face. “I think she was too upset about dinner being
ruined to think of it.”

Caitlin shook her head. “I can’t believe you
did that.”

“Sometimes I can’t believe it either. It’s
just like all these weeks of frustration just...erupted.”

Scott looked over the railing separating the
Food Court from the skating rink below, watching a girl cutting
intricate figure-eights in the ice. She looked so carefree and
absorbed in the moment. Unlike his state of mind which seemed
splintered in a million directions.

“So what do you think your Mom is doing?”

“Haven’t a clue.” He continued watching the
skater for a moment, then looked at Caitlin. “But maybe I should
find out.”

“What do you mean?”

“I could follow her.”

“You mean like some kind of private
investigator?”

“You read too many mystery books.”

She reached over and punched him on the arm.
“Be serious.”

“I am. Can you think of a better way to find
out what’s going on?”

Caitlin took a sip of her Smoothie, then
sighed. “What about Alicia? You can’t drag her out late at
night.”

“You’re right.” Scott thought for a moment.
“Think maybe you could watch her?”

“I don’t know.” She twisted the wrapper from
her straw. “I have that stupid curfew on week nights.”

“That could pose a problem.”

Speaking of which... Scott glanced at the
crowd milling around the tables to make sure Caitlin’s parents
weren’t nearby. They’d all come to the mall for Christmas shopping
and split up a couple of hours ago; they could be back any time. It
wouldn’t do for them to catch the drift of this conversation;
especially if he got the nerve to ask Caitlin what he’d like
to.

But did he have a right to ask her to lie for
him?

She touched his arm. “What are you
thinking?”

“Just trying to figure a way.”

If she sensed the evasiveness of his
response, she didn’t show it. Her wide, blue eyes were full of
concern, not questions.

He took a deep breath. “Would you
consider...uh...telling them you were sleeping over with
Terry?”

“What?”

“I know. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s not like I’ve never lied to my folks.”
She offered him a sheepish grin. “But this is like, big time.”

“Forget it. It was a stupid idea.” Scott
leaned back in his chair.

Caitlin finished her drink, then set the cup
back on the table. “We’d have to figure out some logistics. Like
where I’d really spend the night.”

He glanced at her quickly. “You mean you’d
really consider it?”

She intertwined her fingers with his. “It’s
not like I’m sneaking out to do something awful.”

“So, okay. You won’t feel guilty if we pull
it off. But what about the risks?”

“Minimal if we can—”

“Figure out the morning thing.”

“Yeah.” She smiled. “I can hardly come
traipsing out of your room.”

Bright spots of pink touched her cheeks, and
Scott felt the warmth of a flush cross his face as he realized that
they were both thinking the same thing. He covered his
embarrassment with a swallow of his cola, then he looked at her,
offering a small smile. “You’re right.”

Her nod seemed to acknowledge the meaning
behind his words and he felt the slight tension ease as her blush
faded. It’s not like they hadn’t explored their sexuality a bit in
the few months they’d been together, but Caitlin had let him know
right from the start just how far she was willing to go. And he was
always conscious of the heartache Michael had shared with him after
a girl had dumped him last year. Michael had said the hurt was
deeper because it was the first girl he’d had sex with.

Scott could still hear the rest of his
brother’s words as if he were sitting here right now. “Don’t let
the other kids fool you. There’s more to sex than just a good
time.”

At the time, Scott had told him he sounded
like Mom, and Michael had said, “Maybe Mom’s right about this
one.”

Even now, Scott had to stifle the urge to
laugh. Up to that point there hadn’t been much they’d ever thought
their mother was right about; especially Michael. He’d argue with
her about anything, and sometimes Scott had thought his brother
would knock himself out to prove the sky wasn’t really blue if she
commented on what a pretty shade it was.

A sudden wave of sadness overrode his
amusement, and he felt the sting of tears in his eyes. Damn. When
is that going to stop happening?

He noticed a look of concern cross Caitlin’s
face, and he wondered, not for the first time, if she had some
ability to read him. “It’ll be okay,” she said. “Give me a couple
of days to figure something out.”

Scott started to respond, and Caitlin held up
a hand. “Shhh. Here’s Mom.”

He looked over to see Mrs. Bradshaw
approaching, shopping bags in each hand. Mr. Bradshaw was behind
her, parcels balanced precariously in his arms.

He set his burden down, then pulled two
chairs to the corner of the table. Caitlin’s mother sank into one
of the chairs with a deep sigh. “I’m exhausted. How about you two?
Finish your shopping?”

With a jab of guilt, Scott realized that
they’d spent most of their time sitting here after picking up a
couple of things at the Disney store for Caitlin’s little brother.
He glanced at Caitlin and saw her give her mother a smile.

“We sort of lost track of time,” Caitlin
said. “Guess you’ll just have to bring me back.”

Mrs. Bradshaw turned to her husband. “Kids.
Can’t count on them for anything.”

Scott squirmed in the silence that followed
that remark. It had sounded like teasing, delivered in that same
exaggerated sarcastic tone his mother used to use; back when their
life was normal. But at his house, laughter had always followed the
comment. There was never any doubt about intention.

Caitlin’s smile withered and her father
averted his eyes, but Scott couldn’t read the expression on her
mother’s face. He shook his head. Here all this time he’d thought
Caitlin was exaggerating about her mother cutting her down. He’d
even considered it a bit silly when she’d show up at school
fighting off tears. But there was no mistake here today, and it
wasn’t fair. Whether Mrs. Bradshaw meant it or not, it was rotten
to dig at someone that way.

With a sudden clarity, he realized that his
mother had never done that. Not once. Sure she pissed him off
plenty; especially lately. But she’d never cut him off at the
knees.

Thinking about her that way softened a bit of
the anger he’d been clinging to for the past few weeks. Maybe he
should quit hassling her about all this shit. Give her a break.

Caitlin touched his arm, drawing his
attention. “We lost you there for a minute.”

“Sorry.”

“You ready to go?” Mrs. Bradshaw asked.
“We’ve got to pick Joey up from his friend’s house.”

“Sure.”

Amid the shuffle of gathering packages and
tossing empty drink cups, Caitlin sidled up to him and slipped her
arm around his waist. The gesture was warm and comforting.

~*~

“It’s ruined.” Alicia slapped the knife down,
splattering white frosting across the counter.

“No it’s not, Honey.” Jenny pushed the top
half of the cake back up. “Get some toothpicks.”

Alicia grabbed the little glass vase full of
toothpicks and brought it over. “Can you fix it?”

“Sure.” Jenny used several slivers of wood to
secure the broken section of cake to the bottom layer, then
carefully filled in the crack with frosting. “There. Good as
new.”

“No it’s not.” Alicia tried to press a glob
of frosting back onto the side of the cake. It fell off again,
taking a hunk of cake with it and scattering chocolate crumbs off
the plate. “It’s awful.”

Alicia’s chin quivered, and Jenny thought her
heart would break. “You did splendid for your first time. It was
ages before I could do sides at all.”

“But I wanted it to be perfect for
Michael.”

A wave of tears poured out of Alicia’s eyes,
and Jenny pulled her into an embrace. “It doesn’t have to be
perfect. It’s enough that you did it.”

“For real?”

The words were barely intelligible amidst the
hiccups of sobs, but the inherent hope didn’t escape Jenny. “Yeah.
For real.” She blinked back the threat of tears. “Michael’s
probably up there saying, ‘Way to go, Alicia.’”

The girl pulled back and looked up. “You
think?”

Jenny nodded and touched the tear that
crawled down her daughter’s cheek. “Now go get Scott so we can
party.”

After Alicia bounded out, Jenny set plates
and silverware on the table. She was getting the glasses for soda
when she saw Scott step into the doorway, jacket on and hands
thrust deep in the pockets. “I’m supposed to meet Caitlin,” he
said. “We’re going shopping again.”