Their Broken Pieces by Jessica Gomez

Chapter Fifty-One

Alex

 

 

The entire week went by without seeing Jasmine. She missed school Monday and skipped out on biology, the only class we have together for the entire week. I asked Mrs. Hubert, just out of curiosity, but she wouldn’t tell me. Purposely taking the long way around the parking lot, I tried to run into Jasmine, but her car was always gone by the time I reached the lot.

When I leave school on Friday, going home is not in the cards. Time alone causes me to think, and thinking is the last thing I want to do. I call Carlos and have him meet me at the river; there’s business to take care of and beers to drink.

Carlos says he’ll get the beer, call the rest of the guys. The only thing I have to do is drag my sorry culo there.

Two hours later, I’m five beers down and on my way to feeling better. A week has passed since the last time I saw Jasmine. Each morning, waking up without her is like reliving the first, painful and depressing.

Music is thumping through my entire body, the bass vibrating my seat, enhancing the effect of the alcohol. I’m messing with the stereo when Carlos sneaks in unnoticed, taking up residence in the passenger seat. My posture stiffens; I know what he’s going to do, so I just wait for him to bring her up. The fact of the matter is, I know I’ve been fucking up lately. I just can’t muster up enough emotion to give a shit. Without Jasmine in my life, nothing seems important. Not that being in a gang has anything important to accomplish; it’s a gang, for shit’s sake. Maybe, I’m tired of all the mierda that living this life entails.

Carlos remains silent, making an amiable companion. I appreciate him being non-opinionated and having him here without speaking is also a welcome support. He understands without words.

Carlos’s phone must vibrate, because he pulls it out of his pocket, reading a message that pops up on the lit screen. His brow wrinkles as he leans in closer to read the message. Without a word, he steps out of the car, closing it behind him.

What the hell was that about?

Seconds later, I get my answer. He rips the door back open and gestures for me to turn the radio down. “Mario has a retaliation ordered. Word is, they’re planning something, but it’s being kept on the DL. Nobody has heard any details.”

Silently, I soak up this new bit of information. Good old Mario, out causing havoc, trying to get his revenge. Back and forth, back and forth. That’s all this life is and ever will be.

“Keep an ear out for what’s coming. It’s better if we’re prepared.” I inform him, then turn the music back up.

Carlos sends out a couple of texts, then leans back and enjoys the music. There’s nothing we’re able to do about it right now, especially with no information available. As soon as I hear something, we’ll deal.

The night wears on; people disappear or pass out in the surrounding cars. Carlos and I are still in the car with the music down. We both know that we are sleeping the night off in the car because neither one of us is even close enough to being able to drive.

Reaching up, I slide the sunroof open and feel the cool night air rush in. The smell of wet dirt, water, and trees fill my sinuses. The aromas remind me of Jasmine and of the day we spent collecting plants for our biology project.

Leaning back in the chair, I get comfortable for the night. I have to say the view from here isn’t bad. The stars are out everywhere, twinkling in the sky.

Too drunk to care what I’m doing, I ask, “What do you think of her?” Without her name, Carlos knows who I’m referring to.

“Honestly?” he asks, peeking at me from the corner of his eyes.

I nod, looking straight up at the sky.

“She seems to bring the real you back.” He pauses before continuing. “She calms you. You’re better than all of this, Navarro, and you know it.” He motions with his hand to everything around us, but mainly referring to the gang. “You come alive when you see her; the look on your face when she walks into the room is pure adoration. What I think is that you’re perfect together and that you need to work on a plan to fix whatever dumb shit you did to mess it up.”

We glanced at each other at the same time. The same stupid, drunk smile plays on both of our lips. “Do you think so?” My words are slurring together at this point.

“Who do I fucking look like, Navarro… Montel? Is this the girl-talk hour?” He mocks me openly, but he knows I appreciate his words.

“Gracias, Carlos,” I say, closing my eyes and getting comfortable for the night.

“Sí” He responds, half asleep.

I roll the windows up and lock the doors before I crash out for the night. Letting my guard down now that I know there’s a retaliation order out could mean dirty business for all of us.

We spent Saturday recovering from a hangover, the first in a very long time. Come Sunday, I just mosey around the house. I had a conversation with mi madre about the retaliation Mario put out on the gang, and more than likely, me. She promised to take extra precautions and never travel alone anywhere for the next couple of weeks.

Uneasy nerves bombard me when evening rolls around. Something feels off, as if I can sense that there’s a storm brewing. My heart pounds harder than usual, and the surrounding air seems crisper, sharper somehow. Throughout dinner, the unease of the night keeps me on the edge of my seat.

Mi madre turns in early, having pulled a double shift today. My body’s exhausted, but after I shower, thinking it will help relax me, sleep eludes me.

My eyelids are heavy and ready to close when my phone buzzes next to my head on the nightstand. Snatching it up, I check the screen. The text has me flying out of bed, running down the hall and out the door with my pants still hanging halfway down my legs.

Mario has Jasmine.

I’m outside now.

Before the car door is closed, Carlos is peeling away from the curb. I finish buttoning my pants and putting my shoes on when I ask him, “How in the hell does he have Jasmine?”

“I’m not sure. I think he went and got her from her house.” He shrugs.

“Willingly?” I ask puzzled.

He gives me a look that tells me there’s nothing willing about it; he took her by force.

“Motherfucker!” is just one of the many curse words I continue to scream in both Spanish and English for the entire drive as my fist slams against the dash, over and over.

“We’ll find her.” Carlos is determined, even though he doesn’t know how we’re going to get her back. He keeps his eyes peeled on the road as he rips around the corners.

We have to find her…