CHAPTER 21

Over the course of the next few weeks, Miguel dived deeper than ever into his father's ways. Now that he was no longer shackled by his thinking about the people back home, he was able to throw himself into his father's teachings more than ever. He ate, slept and trained like his father. Learned about his father's work. Learned about his father's way of life. And by God did he learn how to fight like his dad. Every night, he would go to bed, every inch of him bruised and battered after taking yet another brutal, ruthless beatdown at the hands of Manuel, but he didn't mind. Because he could feel himself gradually begin to improve. Not just at the new techniques his father taught him either. Even his whole fighting style was vastly polished, as Miguel grew infinitely stronger, faster, more agile, every physical trait that made him a force to be reckoned with. He knew that should he end up going back to the Valley, he would easily be able to take on almost anybody who stepped in his path. He could more than take the fight to even the top tier fighters like Robby and Hawk. He couldn't even feel his back injury anymore, and sure part of that might have been the shooting pains that were throbbing around the rest of his body from all the intense training, but he knew that there was also a psychosomatic part of it linked to being in the Valley in the middle of the karate war that had gone. Not Miguel's physical health, but also his mental, emotional health was much improved. He had managed to push Sam out of his head and move on with his life, so every morning he woke up, he did so with a smile on his face. Then he would roll out of bed, walking into the bathroom, stare in the mirror and smile widely. He had muscles! More pronounced muscles, all due to the almost military-like training regime his father had him on. I mean, how could he not be smiling when, for the first time in his entire life, he could literally count his freakin' abs! It was amazing!

Manuel, meanwhile, was also absolutely loving the experience. He had all but completely convinced his son to remain in Juarez with him forever. Miguel had been keen to learn all about Manuel's job and Manuel had been excited to teach him. Originally it had started with explanations in the comfort of their house, but gradually as Miguel's interest grew and their relationship grew too, it expanded to Manuel taking him on various parts of his job. Of course, Manuel wasn't an idiot. He wasn't going to take him on the potentially violent jobs as he knew that Miguel had too many morals and too little stomach to handle that part of the life. He merely took Miguel on the risk-free parts of his role in the Los X's gang, the parts that were more learning experiences than actually scary stand-offs. It gave Miguel the opportunity to learn all about the web that the cartel created all over Juarez, Mexico and Central America in general, and the role his father played in it all. He learned about the structure of the Los X's gang, and the mutually beneficial partnership his father and his gang had with the cartel.

It was sure as hell an interesting life to live. Every day, Miguel had no clue what to expect. It wasn't like at home. Back in the Valley, from the moment Miguel's head rose from the pillow, he knew exactly what the rest of his day would play out like. He would wake up and go to school. Then from school he'd go to training, where he would listen to Johnny go on a vaguely sexist, vaguely transphobic and just all-round offensive rant. "You're either a guy or a girl, there is no in between." It was like he was right there with Miguel. Then from training, Miguel would go out with his friends, or go out with Sam. And then after that, he would finally go home and get done any schoolwork he needed to do. That was it. That was his life every day in the past 6 months. Whereas with Manuel, he didn't know what he'd be doing. It could be at home working over a computer or notebook. It could be babysitting large containers that they were transporting on to various locations in the region. Then there was Miguel's various part… the dinner parties.

A man like Manuel, while he had many enemies, he also had many friends. Those he had made before he started his job. Those he had met recently. Those he had met along the way. Those who he hoped to be friends with to ask favors from in the near future. An ensemble of hundreds of people that Manuel knew floated in and out of the house. Almost every day Manuel would have at least one person over and provided they were friendly enough, Miguel got to learn all about them. It was so refreshing to have a conversation with someone where the words "you won with an illegal kick" weren't used at one point or another. They were Mexican, Ecuadorian, Brazilian, Argentinean, Colombian, Peruvian, Venezuelan, Nicaraguan, Guatemalan. Miguel heard stories from all over the globe. He had even been offered free trips to these countries by many of the men, who all found him delightful. Not that Miguel planned on taking any of them up on them as he didn't quite trust them enough for that, but it was still an indescribable experience to learn about all this. Hearing stories about the breathtaking Iguazu Falls. Or the fearsome stories of the mens' Mayan ancestors. And the food. Oh my God, the delicious food! Every time any of these men came over, it was like common courtesy for them to bring a dish of food, so Miguel's taste buds were able to experience things they had never been blessed enough to before. With every delectable bite, he was transported all over Central and South America in a way that although he loved his yaya's cooking, he never had before.

However, despite all of this, Miguel woke up on the first of July with one thing clear in his mind… he didn't want to be here much longer. He wasn't an idiot. He wasn't blind. He knew that his father was trying to get him to stay with him forever, and was doing that by only showing him the glamorous parts of his life. But that wasn't why Miguel wanted to leave. He wanted to leave because as cool as the people in Juarez and the country of Mexico was, it just… it wasn't home. Home for him was the Valley. In his house in Reseda, with his mom and yaya. This trip had been a send from heaven for him. It had managed to drag him away from the insane Karate rivalry and all of the rest of the crazy drama in his life. By the time that tournament had come around, he had been so fixated on the horrible things that were going on because he was already right in the center of all of them, and it was only when he had arrived in Juarez that he had managed to step back enough to see the forest from the trees. Despite everything, despite his issues with so many people in the Valley, it was still his home. Juarez had been generous enough to give him the strength - both physical and mental - to recharge, reboot and now return back to where he belonged. His dad led a very fascinating life, that was for sure. The one problem was however that Miguel would rather watch that life on a show on Netflix in the comfort of his living room back home than actually live it himself. He wanted to be a doctor, wanted to go to college in America. That was the life he wanted to lead. That was where he belonged. And he decided that now was finally time for him to retake that life.

That night, Miguel and his father sat down to dinner. It was just them, no one else, so Miguel figured this would be the perfect time to tell him about his decision.

"So… how are you feeling after training today?" His father asked him as he ladled some salad onto his son's plate.

"Alright. You know, surprisingly, not that bad. Neck's kinda hurting from when you hip threw me into the ground but other than that… yeah, pretty fine." Miguel replied. Manuel smiled.

"Good. That's good. That's great. You've gotten so much stronger. Training is clearly working." Manuel said. Miguel nodded.

"Yeah. Thanks to you. Thank you so much for training me." Miguel murmured, trying to show as much appreciation to his father as possible before he told him the bad news.

"Ah, come on, Miguel! It's my pleasure. Besides, it's going to pay off soon enough. Your training's almost over and you can then be a part of my job full time."

His 'job.' Miguel had noticed that his father never elected to use the word 'gang' when describing his work. An extremely clever way of talking, of trying to convince Miguel to stay. It made it sound like any other job, like a waiter or a cleaner or something. It neglected to illustrate the fact that his job was a very NOT normal one.

"Yeah, um… dad. I actually wanted to talk to you about that." Miguel said. Manuel nodded.

"Sure, son, what's up?" He asked. Miguel took a deep breath and looked his father in the eye when he responded.

"I, um… I'm going back home tomorrow…"

Manuel's jaw dropped and his eyes widened in alarm.

"W-w-what?" He stammered.

"Look, it's nothing against you, okay? It's been so incredible getting to know you these past few weeks. A few months ago, I never thought I'd ever be able to even meet my father, let alone have him teach me how to fight and teach me so much else. It's honestly been such an amazing experience being here but… I'm not sure this is the life I want to live forever. The always looking over my shoulder. Constantly having to defend for my life. Unable to trust anyone. It's just… it's not who I am."

Manuel listened to him and remained silent for an interminably long time. However, a few moments later, loud chuckling filled the air and Miguel looked at his father, confused about the reaction.

"Not who you are? Is that right?" Manuel commented. "Let me tell you who you are, Miguel. You're my son. Whatever you feel isn't you is actually just a small part of you trying to convince a much large part that it isn't. I've seen you, Miguel. So much of you I even see in myself. This is your home. You need to stay where your home is."

Miguel shook his head, great sadness ripping through his body as he stared his father in his devastated eyes.

"I can't." Miguel whispered, a tear rolling down his cheek. "My life isn't here. My life's in America. I've got school, a life that I need to return to. I want to go to college. Become a doctor. Make for my kids a better life than I had, just like my mom made for me. I can't do any of that if I'm here. I'm really, really sorry. But hey, look, I'd love to come visit every so often if that's okay with you, as I do still want to have a relationship with you, even when I'm living back home."

Another long silence rolled over them. Seconds felt like an eternity to Miguel, as he stared at his father's unreadable expression, trying to gauge how his father was feeling. He was extremely unsuccessful. That was, until his father started speaking again.

"Miguel…" His father uttered in a deadly calm voice that sent shivers down Miguel's spine. It was a tone Miguel had only ever heard his father used to address his enemies. "Do you know how jobs like mine survive?"

Miguel raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, what?" Miguel asked.

"Come on, you're a smart boy. You know that jobs like mine… every second person is your enemy. And your first mistake is your last mistake. But how do you survive that? Well, it's simple. One word… secrecy."

"Secrecy?" Miguel echoed, at a complete loss as to where his father was going with this.

"Yes. Secrecy. Nobody outside our walls knows how we operate. Whether it be the transportation part. The money part. Any of it. We don't allow anyone outside of our gang to understand the way we work. If someone tries to leave the gang, then… well, we convince them to reconsider."

The way that Manuel said that led Miguel to believe that it was an awful lot more than just a friendly chat that his father had with quitters.

"Well, there is one person now who has seen the way we work, the way we operate, and yet wants to leave. That person is you, Miguel. So I'm going to invite you to reconsider your decision."

Miguel, sucking in whatever fear was beginning to fill his body, shook his head.

"I'm sorry, dad. I'm leaving." Miguel stated. Manuel sighed and nodded, once again silent for a long time. He then slowly got to his feet and, sensing that he was in danger, Miguel shot up and did the same.

"Very well." Manuel said, Miguel spotting his father's hands curling into fists. "I warned you, Miguel. Every action has a reaction. You made your action. Now it's time for you to face the reaction. I'm sorry…"

With that, Miguel barely had time to react before he saw his father lunging at him…