The main Mayan crew sat around the table in the meeting room, Bishop at the head of it.

"We have two things to discuss. The first," said Bishop, "is us accompanying one of Galindo's shipments by truck in a couple of days to Arizona where the Chinese will take possession of it. Anybody have any thoughts on how we should proceed?"

"I think only a few of us should go along with the merchandise. If we're too many, it might give the cargo too much importance, making it look suspicious," said Taza.

"Agreed," said Bishop. "Who do you want with you?"

"Angel, EZ, and Coco."

"Alright. Does anyone have any issues with that?" asked Bishop as he looked around the table. Seeing everyone agreed, he nodded. "OK, second and last topic on my end, a new prospect is starting tomorrow. His name is Antonio Pintero. He's going to need a sponsor, so think about whether it's something you'd be willing to do."

Riz lifted his hand. "I'll take this one. It's been a while since I haven't done it and well, I can think of a few ways to make this guy's life miserable and make sure he's deserving of the cut."

Bishop laughed. "OK. Then it's settled. Does anyone else have anything that needs to be discussed?"

Everyone looked at one another. As they all remained quiet, Bishop took his gavel and struck it down, calling an end to the meeting.

Angel walked over to the bar where EZ was distributing beers.

"How did the meeting go?" asked EZ as he handed his brother a bottle.

"Good. A new prospect starts tomorrow. And we need you and Coco to accompany a shipment to Arizona."

"OK. Are you coming along?"

"Yeah. Just the three of us and Taza," replied Angel before walking away and sitting down in the couch next to one of the regulars as EZ looked on.

"Angel is spending a lot of time with that one," said Coco as he lit up a cigarette.

"Appears to be the case."

"You don't like her?"

"It's not for me to like her. She's not my type."

"Is she Angel's type? I mean does he even have a type?"

EZ looked at the girl. She was of average height, long brown hair, brown eyes, and a bit round.

"Kind of," replied EZ before walking out of the bar and heading outside with his beer to sit on the steps.

After sitting down for a few minutes, Chucky walked up to him. "You seem lost in your thoughts."

"I'm alright, Chucky."

Chucky sat down next to him. "I know I'm weird, I always have been, but I'm a good listener."

"Just thinking about someone."

"A girl?"

"Yeah. Someone I knew a long time ago."

"Where is she now?"

"Leading a very different life than I had imagined."

Chucky pondered what EZ had said. "Is it that she is or that you are?"

EZ shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe both."

"You know, life isn't fixed in time. People change, our goals change and that is inevitable."

EZ patted Chucky's shoulder. "You're right. There is no point in living in the past."

"Sometimes the past comes back to you."

"I don't think that will happen, but thanks for listening and giving some pretty sound advice."

"Any time."

With that Chucky stood and walked toward the garage.

"Weird but wise," said EZ smiling and shaking his head in disbelief.

Isabella stopped the car in the driveway of a small townhouse and both, gave a sigh of relief that the trip was finally over.

Sam checked the house out from his seat. "This is where you grew up?"

"Yes."

"And I thought our house was modest."

"Didn't need more than that. I had a roof over my head, food on the table every day, loving parents, and a backyard to hang out in and have fun."

Isabelle pointed down the street. "School was only a five-minute walk and there were a few other kids that lived on the street. We played on the weekends in the streets, rode out bikes, played tag, capture the flag, dodgeball…you name it."

"Sounds fun!" said Sam once again rolling his eyes.

"A lot more fun than you guys being in the same room and talking to each other by text messages. Kids today, don't know how to play together other than on video games. It's sad."

Sam shrugged and Isabelle knew it was the end of that conversation. She had tried multiple times to make him see that life existed outside of video games and social media, but it was a losing battle.

Isabella got out of the car, more than happy to stretch her legs, when the front door opened.

"Mija."

Isabella turned toward the front of the house upon hearing her mother's voice call out to her. Standing on the small front porch, her mother looked older, shorter, and tired; not how she was used to seeing her. She headed to the steps, climbed them, and stopped in front of her mother.

"Mamá," she said as they hugged.

"I'm glad you're here."

"Of course. I'm glad to be here too," replied Isabella as she stared into her mother's eyes.

Margaret looked over her daughter's shoulder and smiled upon seeing Samuel coming up the steps, backpack slung over his shoulder.

"My goodness, look at how you've grown, Samuel. Now get over here and give abuela a hug."

Isabella stepped aside and watched happily as Samuel engulfed Margaret in his arms. Even if they hardly knew each other, she had raised him right.

"Hi, abuela. How are you feeling?" asked Samuel as they parted.

"No talking about my health. You, young man, have more interesting things to talk about. Let's go inside. I want to hear all about school and college. I made concha and barquillo."

"Mom, you should be resting," said Isabella as she followed her inside the house, "not baking."

Margaret raised her hand up to silence her. "Let me bake while I still can."

Isabella stopped in the living room. She placed her bag down on one of the sofas and looked around the room. There were pictures everywhere; of her, Samuel, as well as her father and mother over the years. Knowing she would have time to go down memory lane later, she headed into the kitchen where Samuel was already stuffing his face and drinking lemonade.

"Are you sure you're feeding him enough?" said Margaret staring down her daughter.

"More than enough. I know, if I ate as much as he did, I wouldn't look that thin."

Margaret sat down and looked at Samuel as Isabella joined them and took a barquillo. "You remind me of your abuelo. He could eat anything he wanted and not gain an ounce of fat. You must get that from him or maybe your father."

It was now Isabella's turn to stare down her mother, who couldn't help but notice.

"Samuel, why don't you go get settled into the guest room," said Margaret. "Up the stairs, second door on the left."

"Sure," replied uncomfortably Samuel, noticing the tension in the room, before pulling back his chair, standing and walking out of the kitchen.

"What?" asked Margaret seeing that her daughter's gaze on her hadn't changed. "It's not my fault you don't know who the father is."

"No, but you, sure the hell remind me every chance you get."

"A boy should be able to know about his family."

"Yeah well, considering he can't, maybe you don't have to bring it up."

"You know there are those DNA testing things that you can do and send in. Then they see if it matches with another DNA they have in their system."

"Mamá, stop! Samuel doesn't need to find his father to know who he is. Besides, if they find a match, what is he going to do. Go knock down the door of this man, 17 years after the facts and tell him he's, his son? Not sure he'll get the desired response. Then I'll have to pick up the pieces."

Margaret shook her head.

"Stop judging me, Mom. We're past that…or so I thought."

"I'm not judging you, Isabel." The fact her mother was calling her by her 'cute' name, in a soft tone of voice, she knew it was true. "It's just that a boy needs a father. I would have thought by now, you'd have found someone who could be that father-figure for him."

Isabella sighed, her past, present, or future love life was not something she wanted to discuss with her mother. "Let's not talk about this, OK? Now that Samuel is upstairs, tell me how you're feeling."

"I'm trying not to think about it."

"You have stage 2 breast cancer; you can't ignore this. That you don't want to talk to your friends or the neighbors about it, I get, but not me. I'm here to help you. It's going to be a long road to recovery. You're going to need chemotherapy, a double mastectomy and reconstructive surgery."

"I know mija, I'm still trying to get my head around all of it. I'm scared even if I try not to show it."

"It's normal to be scared. You're going to fight this thing and I'll be there to help you."

"What about your work? I don't want you to lose your job because of me."

"I won't lose my job. I can work from here, don't worry about that, it's all been taken care of. I'll align my work schedule with your appointments. Everything will work out just fine."

Margaret nodded and gave a weak smile as Isabella stood and hugged her. "Samuel and I are going to unpack the car and then we're taking you into town for dinner."

"I'd like that."

Isabella walked out of the kitchen and stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "Sam?"

"Yeah?" answered Sam as he showed up at the top of the stairs.

"Let's empty the car and get settled in. Tonight, we're taking abuela out to dinner."

"Taco Bell?"

"A local version of Taco Bell and much better, trust me. Besides," she added as he met her in the foyer, "I thought you were sick of eating fast food."

"Whatever," he replied as he passed her and walked out of the house.

She set her eyes upon a photograph of her father hanging on the wall. "Was I that difficult?" she asked knowing she wouldn't get an answer before pivoting and heading outside.