Chapter 5
Ranger
I sighed as I pulled to the curb behind Fi's Elantra and shut off the engine, letting my hands collapse into my lap as I surveyed the neighbourhood and the cars filling the street. As always, I was the last to arrive, which was by design. Turning up early ran the risk of being the sole focus of Mama's attention. And when I was the sole focus of her attention, she had a knack for getting me to agree to things I didn't want to do, like when I was told the wrong starting time for the Fourth of July barbeque two years ago and had somehow ended up making plans to help Papa build a new shed the following weekend before any of my siblings had arrived at the actual start time.
In an ideal world, I would have delayed my arrival today an extra half hour on top of the thirty minutes I'd already spent canvassing the surrounding streets, scanning for anything unsavoury or out of the ordinary that I would have to nip in the bud to keep my parent's neighbourhood safe, but it was January. If I tried to pull the same stunt I'd pulled at Christmas, I would invoke the full, unrestrained wrath of Mama, rather than the toned-down version of her ire I'd received in December.
I never thought much of the whole "New Year, New Me" attitude a lot of people adopted throughout the first few weeks of the year, but I wasn't above exploiting the sentiments of others by giving them a good show of turning over a new leaf. January was when I atoned for my sins of familial neglect from the year before and hoped that it would be enough to excuse my absences over the months to come.
While there were some absences that simply could not be helped, like when the government called me up and shipped me out to parts unknown, there were certainly some that were absolutely avoidable that I played as if they weren't. Like I didn't have a growing team of capable and trustworthy men I could call on to deal with the situations I used as excuses to leave dinner early. I'd never admit it, but Papa had been close to the truth when he'd accused me of pre-arranging the emergencies that called me away. I didn't explicitly plan the emergency, or instruct one of the men to call me with a fake emergency at a particular time, but I did stress to the guys covering monitors that if anything happened I wanted to be kept informed.
There would be none of that tonight, though. Tank was at the helm, and he knew I was offline unless there was a true emergency that couldn't be solved without my input.
With nothing left to prevent me from entering my childhood home, I suppressed another sigh, flung open the door to the black SUV and slid out from behind the wheel. I wasted no time from there to the porch, tugging my coat collar a little higher against the cold and being sure to avoid stepping on the parts of the path that were notorious for being slip and trip hazards in winter.
I could have entered the house, silent and unnoticed by anyone other than my cousin and his partner, but that wouldn't win me any favours with my parents. So, since it was redemption month, I let my boots thud against the porch steps, and handled the door roughly to ensure it made a noise as I stepped through. And like clockwork, my mother appeared in the hall in front of me, the furrow of her brow giving way to that pure-happiness smile that had guilt fizzing slightly in my gut. I was selling false hope and I knew it.
"Carlito!" she exclaimed, rushing forward and grasping my face between her hands so she could pull me down to plant a kiss on either cheek. I let her, because resisting would earn me a wooden spoon to the knee cap.
"Hola, Mama," I greeted as she started to loosen her grip and step back, only to wince when she slapped my cheek with a not-so-light touch.
"You're late," she admonished, shaking a finger at me.
"There was traffic," I lied. Free of her hold, I unzipped my coat and started shrugging it off to hang in the hall closet when a tinkling laugh sailed out of the living room, high above the familiar hubbub of my family relaxing in each other's company. I froze. I knew that laugh. I'd only heard it a couple of times a month ago, but it was burned into my memories, and it caused a warmth to spread through my chest even as annoyance rose from the pit of my stomach. Apparently Marco's relationship hadn't fizzled out as quickly as I'd thought it would, because Steph was here.
Steph, the married woman that not even Papa seemed to have a problem with his youngest son dating. I wanted to rage against them all, because when I'd gotten Rachel pregnant out of wedlock, every conversation and argument had been centred around honour, commitment and integrity. Do the right thing, they'd urged me. You can't let her reputation be tarnished. Well, what about Marco's reputation? Were they really okay with their son cuckolding another man?
But instead, I just bit my tongue. The last thing I wanted was the attention to turn to me so that more faults could be found with my own life choices.
"...they can make it on time, then I don't see why you can't," Mama was nagging when I forced myself to relax, finish removing my coat and tune back in.
"Lo siento," I apologised quietly, hanging up the coat and bending at the waist to remove my boots as well, allowing her the perfect opportunity to give me another knock to the head. "I'll try harder in future."
That caused her to soften, just the way I knew it would, and she let out a heavy sigh. "That's all I ask, mijo," she said. And, satisfied that I was here and would not be leaving immediately, she turned with a flourish of the wooden spoon she snatched from her apron pocket and fairly danced back to the kitchen, calling ahead of her in a sing-song voice, "Carlos is here!"
In the next second, Eduardo and Zelia were launching themselves at me in tandem, forcing me to catch them or be blamed for the injuries they sustained when they fell to the floor. I managed not to drop them as I got them settled on each hip, carrying them back the way they came as they commenced babbling over top of one another.
For reasons I couldn't explain, I was their favourite tio. It wasn't like I was around enough for them to truly know what I was like, and when I was around, I never really paid that much attention to them. Sure, I listened to whatever they had to tell me, and I gave them the kind of sage advice I thought they needed and could handle at their ages, but I left all the fun-loving goofing around to Lester and Marco. Hell, even Bobby, Anton and Blake, all three fairly recent additions to the family comparatively, should have better choices as favourites than me. At least their younger sister Poppy, at three years old, was showing a more logical thought process by choosing Lester as her favourite tio, clinging to him almost constantly when he was around.
"Do you have your handcuffs?" Eduard was asking as we entered the living room. "Can you cuff me?" He was fascinated by the fugitive apprehension work I did.
"No," I said.
"Can I braid your hair," Zelia asked, tugging gently at the leather tie that held my shoulder-length hair in a low ponytail and out of my face. I kept it long because it helped me sidle in with the gangs around town when I needed to, and women seemed to like it that way, but Zelia's fascination was certainly a drawback.
"No," I repeated.
"D'you have your gun?" Eduardo asked.
"Yes." I never went anywhere unarmed if I could help it. In deference to Celia's kids being present, though, I'd paired back my usual two guns and a knife to a single firearm in an ankle holster.
"Is your gun loaded?"
I nodded.
"Can I shoot it?"
I cut hard eyes to him. "No."
"Can you shoot it?"
"No."
"Can I touch it?"
"Mama said no guns and no shooty games," Zelia told her brother pompously before I could respond again. She was still playing with the length of my hair. "Edi broke Mrs. Reeve's window with his slingshot," she explained to me. "He got in big trouble."
Eduardo poked his tongue at his sister and she reciprocated with a matching level of maturity, blowing a raspberry in his direction that splattered spit over the side of my face. I decided that was enough Tio-Time for the pair and set them both down on the ottoman that had been pushed up against the wall to make room for everyone.
"Your Mama's right," I informed Eduardo, holding his gaze firmly. "No guns. And you have to be careful with projectiles. You don't want to accidentally hurt your friends and family." They both looked like they were going to launch into another round of questions, but I settled my hands heavily on their heads, ruffling slightly as I straightened and turned away, cataloguing the other occupants in the room properly for the first time. Scanning for how my family had grouped themselves, facial expressions, who was turned away from who. Each little subtle gesture was a piece of a puzzle I used to make a bigger picture in my head.
Elena and Anton had gotten into a fight before coming out, I surmised from the way my sister's fiancé kept throwing concerned looks in her direction. Fi and Tia Lili were discussing an upcoming release or event that they were both excited about, possibly one of those romance movies Fi claimed to despise but secretly adored. Papa, Lester, Celia and Tio Roberto were playing a game with Poppy while they carried out a casual conversation of little consequence. Bobby and Reynaldo were deep in serious discussions. And whatever Marco was telling Steph was clearly funny, because her laugh washed over me again, the conflicting warmth and tension filling my body and settling uneasily in my stomach.
Before I knew what I was doing, my feet had carried me across the room to where they lounged on the sofa and I stood over them. Steph swung her head around to look at me, sending a waft of her subtle citrus and ocean scent my way. How the woman could smell like a summer's day at the beach in the middle of winter, I had no idea, but it made me nostalgic for the time I'd spent with my Abuela in Miami in my teens.
"Hi Carlos," she said brightly, shifting so that she was taking up less space on the couch. "Did you wa-"
I didn't let her finish. I didn't even acknowledge that she'd greeted me, because while I'd been mentally damning my brother's actions for getting involved with a married woman, it had only just occurred to me that Steph was just as guilty, if not more so, and that made the attraction I felt for her taste sour. "I need to talk to you," I told Marco, my tone clipped the way it was when I spoke to my men. "In private."
Marco looked from Steph to me and back as her expression fell, and settled a hand on her knee, squeezing lightly, reassuringly. "I'll be back in a second," he said. Then he was following me out of the room and down the hall to Mama's sun room. "You know, sometimes I wonder why Mama's so desperate to have you around," he said as I closed the door behind us. "Your manners are terrible, and you're not very good at reading social cues."
On the contrary, I was excellent at reading social cues, I just didn't care for the bullshit that padded most social interactions. I'd never been one for small talk, and the way people seemed to prefer beating around the bush made me want to beat them around the head if I had to put up with it for too long. I preferred to be direct.
"Are you sure about this woman?" I asked, rather than respond to my brother's typical jabs.
His expression flashed confusion, followed by surprise, and finally annoyance. "Why shouldn't I be?"
"Because she's married," I intoned. "You can't really think it's a good idea to-"
"Fuck you, Carlos," Marco spat. "You don't get to waltz in here and pull the concerned older brother card here. You don't care enough to ask about our lives, so you don't deserve to have an opinion. And even if you did, I'd never take your advice anyway!"
"I'm just trying to-" but whatever I was 'just trying to' didn't matter because by the time I'd reached the third syllable, he had the door open again and was striding back down the hall.
My hands clenched into fists and I bowed my head, breathing evenly to remain calm, and when I lifted it again, Mama was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, her narrowed eyes trained on me. "Come help take the food to the table," she said, rather than whatever else she was thinking as the cogs turned behind her expression.
She'd given up on trying to counsel Marco and my disagreements years ago, but she knew when I needed a distraction and to be away from people. If it were any other month of the year, I might have made up and excuse to leave right then, but this was redemption dinner, and if I left early, her disappointment would only worsen, and I'd be guilted into a supplementary bonding activity, or she'd show up at my building and insist on taking me to lunch, since she never gets to see me.
I did as she asked, carting the many dishes to the dining room, and retreating to the kitchen for a glass of water while Mama announced that dinner was ready and started herding everyone into the room. I re-entered with the tail end of the crowd and took my seat a couple of chairs down from Mama, which was thankfully also about as far away from Marco and Steph as I could manage while still being in the same room.
The distance did not spare me from the shitty glares my brother sent my way throughout the meal, though. Nor the worried glances from Steph.
"What are you and Marco fighting about now?" Elena asked, reaching in front of me for the empanadas that had stalled their progression around the table. "Did he eat the last of Abuela's cookies again?"
I allowed a short snort of amusement to escape me as a sign of appreciation for Elena's humour. She was, of course, referring to the time when I was thirteen and Marco was nine, and I'd almost broken his arm trying to wrestle the last cookie from the batch Abuela Rosa had sent for my birthday out of his hands. I found out later, after Mama got home from getting Marco's arm x-rayed, that it was not, in fact, the last cookie. That Mama had caught Marco sneaking extras the previous day and had put half of them away in a different container on the top shelf to make sure I got some. I'd felt guilty, and like an idiot, because my punishment for injuring Marco was no more cookies.
So what Elena was really trying to determine with her question was how much of our argument had been based on assumptions, and how much I was going to regret it later. "Just a difference of opinions," I said, snatching an empanada off the plate before she continued passing it down the line. And then, because I always preferred not talking about my life, I hit her with a Uno reverse. "What about you? What did Anton say to land himself in the doghouse?"
The rest of the evening passed as a Manoso-Santos dinner usually did: loudly, and with just a couple of moments of chaos. I tried to ignore Marco's anger, and acknowledging Steph, because even knowing that she was willingly committing adultery, there was something about her that drew me in. I could be facing the opposite direction, with no way to check a reflection and easily pinpoint where in the room she was by the tingle at the nape of my neck.
Despite my disgust for her actions, I desperately wanted to know more about her. And it was for that reason, that I excused myself from the table when Mama and Tia Lili went to retrieve the desserts, following them into the kitchen with an excuse on the tip of my tongue.
"See?" Mama said to Lili the second I crossed the threshold, gesturing toward me with a serving spoon. "What did I tell you? Every time. He leaves before dessert every time."
"You did tell me," Lili agreed, shaking her head as she sent me a this-is-what-you-do-to-your-mother look. "I'm so glad my Lester loves his family enough to stay until the end of the night."
"You did right with him," Mama said sagely. "I don't know where I went wrong with this one."
I said nothing, letting my mother and aunt roast me for as long as they wanted, because as they bemoaned my many failings as a family member, Mama was also packing the usual Tupperware of sweets for me to take home with me. She was just rounding the counter to bid me farewell in her usual fashion - a hug and the hand-off of food - without me having said a single word when there was a crash from the dining room, followed by the distinctive wail of a toddler. I moved instinctively to check on the situation, assuming it had been a typical accident from the clumsy child, but wanting to be sure it wasn't some other threat when the kitchen door burst open.
"Mama, we need some ice," Steph was saying as she barged in. "Poppy fell off her chair and hit her head on the buffet."
My fists and teeth clenched at hearing her call my mother Mama, and I took a couple steps backwards, out of the way as Mama and Lili cooed softly and assembled an ice-pack out of a tea towel and ice from the freezer. I might have used the opportunity to slip out of the house unnoticed, but I knew Mama would be even more disappointed if I did so, and also that Steph's eyes were on me, meaning that it wouldn't be unnoticed after all.
"Sorry," she muttered, a blush rising on her pale cheeks as she lowered her gaze away from me. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
"It's fine," I assured her, because I hated seeing her expression so remorseful like that for such a little thing that really didn't rate any more than an ant on a picnic rug after the food had all been eaten. "I was just leaving."
"Not without saying goodbye, you're not!" Mama admonished, appearing between us and thrusting the ice-pack into Steph's hand then turning to face me with her hands on her hips, all in one fluid motion. "Here. Now," she instructed, pointing to the floor directly in front of her as Steph retreated once more.
I took a step forward so that she was nose to chest and allowed her to wrap her arms around me, only reciprocating the hug when she slapped me hard on the back and squeezed me harder, a demand for me to engage. I smiled and obliged, curling down to press a kiss to her cheek when she released me. It was all part of the routine.
"If you miss next family dinner, you better be dead," she informed me. "It's Elena's birthday, so don't forget a present."
I nodded. "Si, Mama," I assured her, and just for good measure, I added, "Thank you for understanding."
"Of course, Carlito," she assured me, her expression softening as she pressed the container of tres leches into my hands. "I know you'll come back eventually even if I wish you would visit more."
I nodded again, said goodbye, and headed back into the hall to retrieve my coat and boots, listening to Mama and Tia Lili bemoan my lack of family commitment afresh all the way.
