Chapter Text
Part I
“Claro, Jefe. I’ll make sure we find him and he gets the van back to her. I got it handled. Enjoy your day,” Mick’s gruff voice tells me as I pull into Rhea’s driveway and cut off the engine.
It’s one of those Fall afternoons when the sun’s got the leaves all blazin red and orange and brown and maroon. I’m ready to enjoy the day with my favorite person.
I just wanna turn my mind off from all this bullshit going on in my kingdom.
“Aight, Mick. Cool.” I hang up. Me and Mick don’t say good byes. No need to. We just always both know what it is.
I’m feeling aggravation that Mick gotta spend his day off doing this shit, but the Soccer Mama Bandits fucked up their first assignment on my payroll. They let Eddie hold em at gunpoint and steal one of their cars. Elizabeth’s van.
They warned me they couldn’t handle it, but I’m disappointed they fucked it up. That’s what I get for trying new shit. I should stick to what I know.
Eddie’s been a loose cannon lately, too, though. Went and got himself shot for mouthin off to the Armenians and fucking with one of their daughters. Now word’s out he’s been driving that minivan around the North Side dropping my name to find the shooter. I gotta sit shorty down and get some straightening. Reckless and stupid don’t fly under my command.
And maybe I was wrong for thinking I saw something in this Elizabeth Boland. All she had to do was keep him tucked in her daughter’s princess bed for a couple days until my men picked him up. She could have drugged him or used that smart mouth or something like she had no problem doing with me.
The kid was weak and half delirious from a bullet goin through him and still managed to rob those three women.
Nah. Don’t seem like they are about this life at all, and this proves it even moreso.
So now Mick gotta run after Eddie, smooth shit over with all the people he’s been threatening, and get him to take the van back.
Drawing even more attention back to me. I clench my jaw, pissed at myself more than anyone else.
I’m gonna have to stop by and see her too. I need to see if she still got that fire when she don’t have that glass of bourbon to give her courage and that kitchen island to hide behind.
Maybe I’m just feeling like taking those pearls back and calling it a motherfucking day.
Yeah, sometimes it's best to just stick to what, and who, you know. "No new friends" or some shit like Eddie and the young boys in my crew say.
But today, today, I’m gonna turn my mind off to the bullshit and focus on the house in front of me. On the people I know waiting for me inside of it.
I sit in front of the small, but pretty, cottage-style house that Rhea and my son call home, feeling excitement rise from my toes to my head, smoothing down the red shirt I’m wearing just for my son. He asked me to wear red so I took a break from my usual blacks and blues.
I look in the rearview mirror, checking myself out. I gotta admit, red makes the details in my neck tattoo jump out, makes my skin look tawnier, makes my already handsome face even more pretty.
God has really blessed me, yeah? The thought makes me laugh.
I look over the yard and see Rhea’s planted some chrysanthemums and the grass is freshly cut. She’s working so much, I wonder when she’s had time to do that. I know she aint pay nobody to do it because she likes to do housework like that herself. That’s one thing about my ex-wife, she’s gonna take care of home.
Even though we didn’t work out, I know I chose a good woman to marry and have a child with. If I was a better man I woulda been a better husband to her. We’d still be together, our daughter just turned 6 years old, my son not having to be shuffled back and forth between us.
But I can’t keep beating myself up for that. I do what I do for them, even if Rhea had to leave me so I could keep doing it.
So yeah, I smooth my shirt one more time, place my gun in the hidden compartment in my console, and hop out of my G-Wagon, landing on my black Timbs.
As soon as my truck door closes, another door opens and Marcus shoots out of the house with a big smile wearing all the items I bought him special for today: red shirt, black jeans, and red and black retro Jordan 1’s. He has a black top hat tilted on his head and a huge red cape fanning out behind him. In his left hand is a magician’s wand waving in the air above him. He’s been into magic lately, so the cape and hat are part of the whole look today.
I can’t help but throw my head back and laugh. This kid brings me so much joy.
His sneakers make a thud as he jumps down the last three steps and lands hard, running to meet me.
Rhea pokes her head out, then leans against the door frame and smiles, looking genuinely happy to see me. I smile back, surprised by her outfit.
The sun is hitting her in the doorway, accentuating her slim curves in a red sweater, black jeans, and black boots. We’re all three dressed the same. Her hair is blown out in some face framing pixie cut, and she’s wearing red lipstick to match her sweater, all of it coming together to remind me how stunning she is.
I realize that my son told both of us to wear red and black like him, but didn’t tell the other he was doing it.
He’s so much like me it’s scary.
Rhea figures it out too, shaking her head as her smile grows, the amusement written all over her face.
I walk up to the steps, Marcus slamming into me and wrapping his arms around my legs, looking up at me with a huge grin. I won’t even front, my heart is thumping in anticipation of the day we’re all about to have.
I scoop him up by his arms, reminding him he’s still my little boy, bouncing him in the air in front of me.
He giggles and bops me on the nose with his wand as I kiss him on his forehead.
“Alright Pop, you ready?!”
“Yeah! This is gonna be the best day ever, dad!”
It sure fucking is.
Cause today is Marcus’s birthday.
*
The day goes just like he said it would.
Most of my family is already in Rhea’s large backyard, sitting around tables and chairs drinking cervezas. My Tio Angel is grilling carne asada, already leaning towards more drunk than sober. Rhea’s family and my family brought food too, so there’s a large spread, covered and being kept warm, buffet style. Rhea spent a grip on this party. I'm gonna have to hit up her job's HR department. Get my contact there to alert her she's earned another performance based bonus and transfer at least eight G's into her account. White lie, but it's the only way I can give her money.
Nick is missing. His kids are here but he’d texted me earlier to let me know he had some city council shit to handle. I’m fine with that. We good over here without my cousin.
After all the cheek pinches, hugs, and chastises that I’m getting too skinny from my family are done, (‘Necesitas comer mas! Que flaco!’ Yeah, I been running myself kinda hard, not having much of an appetite-for food-lately) I let my tias fill up my plate with too many meat and cheese stuffed, lard fried foods. I make my way over to the area of the yard where most of Rhea’s friends and family are sitting. They all have plates of food and are talking in their quiet, polite Spanish amongst each other.
My family is a little too loud and rowdy for them, and we always have been. Rhea was the bridge.
My abuela is sitting with Rhea’s parents, and so are a few of my cousins.
After hugging and kissing my abuela, I do the same to Rhea’s mom, Maria, and her dad, Pedro, whose backs are both stiff and who use formal Spanish when they greet me. They address me as someone they have respect for, but as a stranger, not family. I speak to her cousins, aunt, uncle, and friends, too, who just wave coldly or give me a nod.
Rhea’s people give me the chilly, yet polite, reception they always do. The one that says, “You hurt her and you aint shit but we tolerate you because we have to.”
I get it. I respect it. My abuela and cousins see it, too, and they understand; we’re all family, we’re all here for Marcus, so we make it work.
Soon after the family has settled in and started eating, Marcus’s school friends and some of their parents show up. They live in the suburbs and I know this isn’t the type of party they’re used to, but they’re polite and seem to love the food.
Plus, I think Rhea’s famous sangria gets everyone feeling good with a quickness. I don’t know everything she puts in it, but after drinking one glass, the worst of enemies can squash their beef. Been plenty of times when I’ve wanted to step outside with Nick at a family function for some slick mouth shit he’d said but we ended the night at an impasse. Rhea’s sangria definitely played a part.
The party is themed in honor of my son’s recent obsession with all things magic. Rhea had told me she wanted to plan everything and didn’t want me to pay for anything. I relented and just showed up in red and black.
I forgot to mention to her that I commissioned Lupe’s bakery to make Marcus a birthday cake though. So there is now one traditional cake from la panaderia and one made extra special for Marcus in a magic theme. Rhea didn’t even get angry when Lupe’s staff showed up with the ridiculously large box and set it on the kitchen table a few minutes after I arrived.
“Just couldn’t leave it alone, could you?” Rhea says with an eyeroll and a smile.
I shrug and smile back before I stuff one of my Tia Lucy’s tamales in my mouth, “He’s only gonna turn 8 once. You couldn’t expect me not to do something.”
She doesn’t argue, just smiles and shoots off a quick “Thanks for the cake, Christopher,” before she strides off back to the party, looking right in those jeans. No mama jeans for Rhea. She hasn’t changed much physically since the day I met her. She was 26. Nine years later her hips are a little wider and her hair is much shorter but nothing about her looks like the suburban soccer mamas I’ve met recently.
Her waist to hip ratio has always captivated me if we’re keepin it a buck, so as I watch her walk away from me I have the urge to flirt with her a bit, see what she’ll do. “Can never have too much cake, right, Rhea? You know I love it,” I say to her back as she’s walking away, admiring her cake. I hear her laugh in response, licking my lips and nodding my head before I take a sip of my sangria.
Yep, yep.
I’m impressed with how Rhea transformed the backyard into a carnival of sorts: a face painting station, a balloon station, a mime, a contortionist, a pony giving rides, a moon bounce, a stage for the magician that’s showing up later to put on a show. All the kids showed up dressed as a variety of carnival type characters too.
I go around to all the stations, my eye for detail recognizing Rhea all over the planning and execution of this party. She thought of everything, from the decorations to incorporating kid friendly labels in both Spanish and English to explain what each station and food is.
I watch my son interact with his friends, making sure to leave nobody out, making sure he’s kind and gracious to kids and adults alike. I watch how his peers revolve around him, unconsciously drawn to him, and not just because it’s his birthday.
My heart swells in gratitude to God and my ancestors looking out, especially today. I’ve lived long enough to enjoy this day with my son, my fucking legacy. My parents died when I wasn’t that much older than him.
Esparo que esten orgullosos… de mi.
I try to play with Marcus, but I feel bittersweet pride when he tells me he wants to go with his friends to the stations, “When I wave at you then you can come over, daddy.” He looks up at me, looking just like me at his age, making sure I’m not hurt or upset when he tells me he wants time alone with his friends. But I assure him it’s ok, and I smile and ruffle his hair as he runs off.
I fall back and let him enjoy his time, catching up with my family and some of the parents I’ve met over the years.
His tuition is the only thing Rhea lets me pay for, and I know it kills some of these parents with curiosity (and racism) how two young Hispanics can afford to send their son to the most exclusive private school in the Metro Detroit area. My son goes to school with the children of surgeons, CEO’s, professors, and judges. Some of these judges are on my payroll and they don’t even know it.
I get a kick out of showing up to PTA meetings, school plays and concerts, and parent teacher conferences with my tattoos, bracelets, rings, street clothes, and street slang.
Code switch for what?
Throughout the afternoon, I keep catching Rhea’s eyes, raising my eyebrows to ask if she needs me. She just smiles each time, giving a slight shake of her head as she floats with that long-legged stride around the backyard, checking in at all of the stations, refilling drinks for the parents, bringing plates of food to my drunk ass tios y tias, adjusting the cape on Marcus’s shoulders and the hat on this head that are a little too big for him.
A couple of hours in, all his little school friends are chasing each other around the back yard, taco and sugar drunk, while the adults are feeling right off of cervezas and Rhea’s sangria. It feels like a legit Mexican birthday party. The only thing missing is the mariachi or grupero music, Kids Bop blaring over the speakers instead.
I’m enjoying my day. My phone is on DND. Almost everyone I love is in this backyard. My son is growing up and doesn’t need me as much anymore as I can see from how he’s leading his group of friends to each station, translating the Spanish to them.
And that gives me time do something else I want to do just as much anyway.
In the backyard of the house she insists on paying the mortgage for, gardening, cleaning, all that, even as a full time nurse and full time mom, I watch Rhea charm and comfort and host. I watch her long legs and tiny waist and gorgeous face smile all afternoon, unable to keep my eyes off of her. In between checking in on our son playing with his friends and chit chat with my family and the other parents, I keep scanning the backyard for her.
Each time my eyes land on her, I find myself wondering if she’s dating anybody.
Shit, it’s prolly the sangria talking.
But damn, my ex wife is so bomb though. She always has been, I been known that, but what's making me sit up now and notice again, after 6 years?
*
Lupe and Christina come up to me, bringing lawn chairs and sitting on each side of me. I’m sitting in a chair at the edge of the yard, sipping on some water, my eyes following Rhea and my son. I’ve had enough of talking and pretending for all these people. Now, I just want to sit and let my eyes drink in the sight of Marcus and Rhea laughing in the sunshine of this backyard transformed to look like a magical carnival.
But I always got time for my little sisters.
“Hey Chris.” Lupe kisses me on my cheek, her smile making her look more like my mom than any of us. Christina sits on the other side of me, silent, her eyebrows raised, wheels spinning in her mind, legs crossed, looking like the female version of me when I'm about to have a crucial conversation. Soli isn’t here. Taneisha, her new fiancee, just got a professorship at Berkeley, so Soli packed up her two teenagers, all their belongings, and moved with her.
Christina turns her phone screen towards me, showing Soli smirking at me from Facetime. I laugh. Something's definitely up.
“What’s up Chrissy? Make sure you kiss mi sobrino for me, ok?” She's too loud, even from the phone speaker. And she knows I hate that name. Chrissy is what Soli calls me when she’s about to start something. And judging by the mischievous look in her eyes I know it’s about to be some shit.
I look around to make sure we're not within hearing distance of any of the parents, kids, or our family.
Lupe is my baby sister. She’s 32, but still has that child like innocence. She also knows me better than anybody. Single, no kids, owns a bakery in Midtown that I helped her start. She’s my best friend.
Christina, my oldest sibling, is two years younger than me. The most like me too. She has a son at U. of Chicago that I helped her raise, Carlos. Has never been married. Intelligent, charismatic, ruthless, a head for business and the underworld. She has her own lucrative marijuana operation spanning from Canada to Michigan that I don’t interfere in unless she asks me to.
Soli is my middle sibling, sarcastic, moody, a shit talker. She was married to a man nobody has heard from for a few years. About a year after Rhea and I divorced she came to my house in the middle of the night. She had her two kids with her because he’d hit her and busted her lip during an argument. When my niece, Nevaeh, stepped in, he hit her too. My men moved Soli and my nieces out of that house into one of my properties the same night. I found out that this had been going on since their wedding night.
I tracked him down myself, hiding in Tijuana. I got satisfaction from making sure I took back every lick for my sister and my nieces before I blew his brains out. Taneisha scandalized some in the family at first, una lesbiana negra, but I fuck with her. She makes Soli and my nieces smile, she’s smart as hell, and she shares my love for cars.
I narrow my eyes and look at all three of them.
“What yall plotting on?”
Soli busts out laughing from the screen and Christina joins her. I smile too, despite my caution. It feels good to hear my sisters laugh around me. We don’t do it enough.
Lupe, true to character, shoots it to me straight in her quiet, gentle way. “We’re not plotting on you Chris. We just wanna know… did you and Rhea plan to dress alike today? Yall look super cute.” She continues to smile at me sweetly, ignoring our other two sisters.
Rolling my eyes, I lean back in my chair, stretching my legs out lazily, smirking at them.
“Marcus asked both of us to wear red shirts and black pants without telling the other what he was doing. Guess he wanted us to dress like him so the three of us look like a family.” I look between all three of my sisters, gauging their reactions.
Soli speaks up from the phone, “Ok, but Christina told me she’s seen you and Rhea all day con fijas los ojos. Is that true, Chrissy? Que onda?” Lupe and Christina both sit back and study me, waiting for me to respond.
They all look concerned, but Lupe also looks surprised and a little happy.
Lupe is very close to Rhea, calling her one of her best friends. I respect their relationship as separate from the relationship Rhea and I have. I have never discouraged it, even after we divorced.
Christina has never been close to Rhea outside of looking at her like a good wife for me, a sweet, kind, right, safe choice. Christina always has liked street smart, outgoing, kinda loud type of women (like her) for me like my first girlfriend from high school. She told me I’d hurt Rhea when I told her we were getting married. She was right. There has always been polite distance between them. The only thing they ever bonded over was me and Marcus.
Soli liked Rhea when she first met her, she just thought she was too quiet and square for our family. She said she might be a little too bougie for us, worried that she might be turned off by our loud ways and my criminal background. Coming from a strict, Catholic upbringing, speaking her quiet, polite Spanish, Soli didn’t know quite what I saw in Rhea outside of her beauty.
It made sense to everyone in my family that she left me, especially after what happened. My sisters were all in the truck that day when Rhea delivered our daughter. I was fighting for my life in another city over the Canadian border and the shock of that sent Rhea into early labor, almost killing her and losing our baby. It was my fault. I was too confident back then, thinking nothing could touch me. Then it came to my doorstep and I wasn't prepared. The lesson cost me my family.
My sisters supported me because I am their brother, but I know Soli blamed me for what happened. For having a safe house with no medical equipment or doctor within 40 miles. Christina did too, but she tried to hide it, telling me to give Rhea whatever she wanted in the divorce. Telling me, “You’ve hurt her enough. Just let her go, Chris. Just let it go.”
Lupe did what she always did. Listened, withheld judgment, and just loved all of us. Only she knew how much that shit hurt. Only she knows now that there’s so much I’m not saying to my sisters when it comes to how I feel about the beautiful, kind, strong woman walking around this party in a red sweater and black jeans. Only Lupe can intuit everything I’m not saying about my feelings because I don’t even understand all of them right now.
Damn. They don’t miss nothing, huh? But we are our parents’ children, after all.
I take a sip of my water and shrug my shoulders, keeping my voice light.
“She won’t let me help with nothing so I’m just sitting here enjoying my son’s day. I can only take so much small talk and Abuelita telling me to eat more food. I’m chillin making sure she’s good, watching her to make sure she’s straight. Calmate.” I make a show of spreading my long arms and legs out, emphasizing that I’m coolin.
Soli looks like that answer didn’t suffice, because she’s shaking her head, getting ready to press me.
She mocks my deep voice and its nonchalance. “Just chillin… I’m just chillin man… sure Chris. We know something’s up, though. You don’t think we notice? We’re your sisters.”
Christina chimes in, “Right sis. Chris you've been eye fuckin Rhea all day. What's the tea, bro? You really wanna go back down this road again? Fuck things up when they're finally good? Marcus doesn't remember how bad it was then but he's older now...”
My jaw tightens, I feel myself get angry. Christina and Soli always pushing when it comes to my personal life. Trying to stick their noses in shit. I don’t like when people try to figure me out because that makes me lash out or shut down. I aint gonna lash out at my sisters but they gonna make me ice em out in this backyard if they keep playin with me.
I flick the rest of my water out of my cup angrily and sit up. I cut her off, "Why are you disrespecting me like this, right now, at my son's birthday party? YOU forreal trying to give me relationship advice, sis? You who been single since Carlos was born? Huh? That's what we doin today?" It's a low blow, but her mouth is too reckless with me sometimes.
She narrows her eyes, showing me she’s not gonna back down. I narrow mine right back, raising my chin to her. My sister is the only person in the world who can handle my eye contact. I'm leaned in and so is she, a fucked up staring contest that we can play until one of us breaks. And it won't be me. Soli lets out a long “Here they go. Uh ohhhh” from the phone screen.
Lupe jumps in and shakes her head at Christina, going for a softer approach. She pats my arm. “We’re just saying, we notice you and Rhea have been smiling and looking at each other a lot today. It’s cute that you three are dressed alike. We know it was rough between the two of you for a long time. We’re just happy.“
Christina lets Lupe’s gentle personality diffuse everything. She hops up and wraps her arms around me from the back of my chair, pressing her cheek against mine, both of us watching Rhea as she comes into our line of sight from across the yard. She whispers loud enough for only me and Lupe to hear, “I’m not trying to press you, Chris. I’m just saying you’ve both come a long way. Want to make sure you know what you’re doing, mano.” She kisses me on my cheek at the same moment that Rhea shades her eyes from the sun, looking over at the three of us, a questioning smile on her face. I smile back, locking her eyes in mine.
My fuckin heart thumps as I stare at her, an unfamiliar sensation building in me about her, and I’m feeling a little more than alive as the sun illuminates her.
I don’t lie to my sisters. I don’t tell them I’m not doing anything. Because that’s no longer true.
Lupe waves at Rhea while Christina smiles and I continue to stare.
She knows I’m staring. She knows what I’m thinking; I just know.
And before I leave this house tonight I’m gonna find out what she’s thinking about me.
But I don’t have the time to think too hard on it because my sisters and I begin laughing as we hear Soli’s tiny voice from the phone screen turned down on Christina’s chair, “You bitches forgot about me. What the fuck yall?! Yall leave me out of everything. Damn!”
My son was right. Today really is shaping up to be the best day.