Mace breaks the silence, missing out on the subtext for why. “Sup, Solana? How’s it going?”
She blinks, tearing her gaze away from mine, and pastes on a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, you know,” she says, her tone forcibly light. “Living the dream. Classes are kicking my butt, but what else is new?”
“That’s the way it should be,” he chuckles, folding his arms. “Keep hitting those books. Make something of yourself.”
She nods, her smile faltering as her eyes dart back to me. There’s a question burning in their dark brown depths.
Some sorta plea for...something. Understanding? Confirmation I’ve kept her secret?
I open my mouth as if to ask myself. As if I’m about to pull her aside so we can talk about whatever happened Saturday night.
But then Eddie comes stomping back into the room, his piece tucked into the waistband of his jeans.
“Alright, let’s roll,” he says, clapping his hands together. His gaze lands on Solana and he grins, even more oblivious than Mace. “Hey, kid. Didn’t see you come in.”
“Hey, Unc,” she says, hitching her bookbag higher on her shoulder. “Um… heading out?”
“Club business. Might be a late one. Don’t wait up.”
I watch her face fall before she catches it and smooths her features back into a mask of neutrality. She nods, her fingers tight on the strap of her bag. Probably figuring it’s better if he is preoccupied with club business considering what she’s got going on.
Eddie’s already out the door, Mace hot on his heels.
I pause at the threshold, casting her one last look over my shoulder. The corner of her lip twitches like she’s about to say goodbye, though neither of us do. We just exchange one last parting look, the air loud and silent with what we know and the others don’t.
It’s going to stay that way. I made a promise. And I’m a man of my word.
Even if it kills me…
The truck stop right outside the Portales town border is neutral ground. It’s nobody’s territory, right in the middle between where we’re located and the area the Peñas call their stomping grounds.
A quick layover along the way for most people passing through, it’s the perfect place to meet to discuss business and broker deals.
The drizzle has only picked up by the time we’re pulling into the lot and getting out of the Hummer.
The Peñas are already waiting on us, their pressed suits serving as a direct contrast to our torn denim and cracked leather. Then again, this whole arrangement has been an exercise in strange bedfellows from the start.
Manuel Peña stands front and center, flanked by the twins, Juan and Javier, each of them as big and mean looking as a junkyard dog.
I meet Manuel halfway, the gravel crunching under my boots. One of the few sounds in the otherwise tense silence.
He’s a dead ringer for his old man, right down to the bald head and meticulously groomed goatee. Shrewd calculation lives in his eyes, demonstrating Enrique taught his son well.
But these days Enrique leaves it up to Manuel to handle the operations. The infamous cartel kingpin is satisfied to remain untouchable in his mansion with his small militia down south.
“Silver,” Manuel says, his voice smooth as top-shelf tequila. “So good of you to call this meeting. I trust you’re enjoying the fine Texas weather we’re having?”
I chuckle at the sarcasm, casting a pointed glance at the leaden sky. “Yeah, perfect beach weather.”
It’s the end of any humorous exchange as Manuel chuckles much the same way I have.
We both know this isn’t a social call. The club’s been hemorrhaging money for months, and the prices the Peñas are charging for their hardware isn’t doing us any favors.
Meanwhile, they’ve been raking in the dough hand over fist, getting fat off our misfortune. Something’s gotta give.
“So what’s on your mind, amigo?” Manuel asks, his dark eyes boring into mine. “I assume you didn’t drag us all the way out here just to chat about sunshine… or lack thereof.”
I take a deep breath, hooking my thumbs into my belt loops. “It’s time we renegotiate our arrangement. The current dealisn’t working for us anymore. We need a better price on the merchandise.”
