The Cocaine Chronicles Part 19

"Come, Gabby," Raymond's mother said, starting toward the car, already losing interest in Bobby.

Gabriela followed her mother, then stopped and turned. "That was your saxophone, your car, wasn't it?"

Bobby stood mute, realizing she knew everything, watching her dig in her purse for a pen and a slip of paper. She scribbled quickly and pressed the paper in his hand. "Call me," she said. Then was gone.

Bobby waited for the mourners to clear out. He saw one group of three guys pause at his car and stare, then look over at him, before they got in a black Chevrolet and drove off.

The next morning Bobby dialed the number. "Barnes and n.o.ble," a voice said. "How can I help you?"

Bobby thought it had been a home number she'd given him but quickly realized she wouldn't have done that.

"Can I speak to Gabriela Morales, please?"

"Let me see if she's in," the voice said.

Bobby was suddenly listening to canned music as he was put on hold. It sounded like Dave Koz or David Sanborn, one of those R & B saxes, vamping relentlessly over the same tired chords.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"Miss Morales? This is Bobby Ware."

"I guess you want to talk to me."

"Well, if it's not convenient I can ..."

"I have a lunch break at 12:30. There's a coffee place here in the store. We can meet there. This is the big one, on Ventura Boulevard."

"Yeah, okay, that would be fine," Bobby said.

After a pause she said, "This is strange."

"Yes it is."

He got there early and took a cup of coffee to an outside table so he could smoke. Gabriela appeared a few minutes later.

"Oh, there you are," she said. She was dressed in dark slacks and a white blouse with a plastic B&N name tag pinned to her blouse. Her hair was raven black and framed her face. Very pretty Very pretty, Bobby thought as he stood up.

She put her hand on his shoulder. "No, don't get up. I'm just going to grab a sandwich. I'll be right back."

She came back quickly and sat opposite Bobby with a sandwich on a plate and a bottle of water. "Sorry," she said. "I'm on till 6. If I don't eat now, well ..."

"No problem," Bobby said.

She took small bites of the sandwich and studied him. "You don't remember my brother at all, do you?"

"No," Bobby said. "I'm sorry ... about what happened."

She nodded and looked down. "He had a lot of problems and it's not so uncommon. Raymond was lost a long time ago," she said, finis.h.i.+ng her sandwich. Gabriela looked at Bobby's cigarettes on the table. "Can I have one of those?"

"Sure," Bobby said, offering her one. He lit it for her and watched her take a deep drag and cough a little.

"Wow, it's been awhile. I quit about a year ago."

"Yeah, I've quit a couple of times myself."

"I had quite a crush on you," she said, "after I saw you play at the a.s.sembly. I used to see you in the halls, by your locker, and I started going to the games to see you in the marching band."

"That was a long time ago." Bobby looked away, thinking of the early morning practices, the drilling, the music.

"You still play, right?"

"Yes, I'm working a gig not far from here on weekends."

"That's good. You were talented." She paused. "I remember Raymond wanting to be in the band but it wasn't cool, you know that macho s.h.i.+t, so he never pursued it. Maybe if he had he would ..." Her voice trailed off.

"Look," Bobby said, "I don't want to bother you, I just, I don't know, it's been bothering me. I just had to-"

"See who Raymond was?"

"Yeah, I guess. Since I got the car back, I keep having these visions."

"And there's the horn."

"Well, yes, that too."

She nodded. "I have it in my car. Raymond came home that day, said he'd borrowed the car from a friend. I knew he was lying, but he brought the horn in the house, didn't want anything to happen to it."

"You're kidding."

"No, I think he still thought about playing." She stubbed out her cigarette and glanced at her watch. "I've got to get back to work. C'mon."

He followed her to the parking lot. She opened the trunk of her car. Bobby looked inside and saw the case. He flipped the latches and lifted the lid, and it was like seeing an old friend. He shut the case and took it out of the trunk.

"Thanks, thank you very much."

"Where's your car?"

Bobby hesitated. "Oh, a couple of rows over but you probably need to go and-"

"I want to see it."

They walked over to his car. Bobby unlocked the door and put his horn in the back.

"Do you mind?" She looked inside.

"No."

Bobby watched her run her hand over the seat, her finger tracing the bullet holes. Bobby s.h.i.+vered. She stepped back, her eyes moist now. "It's kind of closure or something," she said. "Thank you."

"I understand."

She managed a smile. "Well, I guess that's it."

"Would you like to come hear me play?" he blurted.

She smiled. "I don't know if that would be such a good idea."

Bobby nodded. "Sure, I understand."

She looked away, then back at him. "But hey, why not. High school crush makes good." She had a beautiful smile and she gave it all to Bobby.

Bobby gave her the address of Gino's and they shook hands. She pressed her hand in his. "Thank you," she said, then turned and walked back to the bookstore.

On the way home, Bobby drove by a deserted warehouse with a huge fenced-in parking area. He slowed, then pulled in the open driveway and drove around to the back of the building. He sat for a moment, the car idling, then slammed his foot on the gas pedal. The car shot ahead. He got up to fifty, then hit the brakes and turned the wheel hard. He threw open the door, stood up, crouched down, stood up again, then threw himself back on the seat, trying to feel the bullet that killed Raymond Morales.

Eyes closed, leaning back, Bobby circled behind the singer on "Lover Man," looking for his openings yet not getting in her way. She finished her chorus and Bobby shuffled toward the microphone and played what he could till the bridge. He stepped aside and saw Gabriela Morales at a table to his left.

She was leaning forward, her chin resting on her hand, gazing at him with what he guessed was memory. Trying to remember that high school a.s.sembly? They finished the set with "Just Friends," and Bobby scorched the small audience with two choruses that got him a phony smile from the singer that said, Hey, I'm the star,remember Hey, I'm the star,remember?

He sat his horn on its stand and walked over to Gabriela's table. "So, you made it," he said.

She smiled. "You're much better now than in high school."

"Come outside with me," he said. "I need a cigarette."

"Me too." She picked up her purse and put a napkin over her gla.s.s.

They walked up Ventura Boulevard a ways, not talking much, just getting used to each other. Finally, they stopped and she turned to look at him.

"So where do you think this is going?" she asked. Her eyes were so dark and deep.

He moved in closer and kissed her lightly on the lips. She didn't resist, and when he pulled back, she opened her eyes and looked at him again. "That's what I wanted in high school."

"And now?"

She looked away. "What is this? You want to f.u.c.k the kid sister of the guy who was killed in your car?"

"What? No, I-"

She waved her hand in front of her as if she was shooing something away. "I'm sorry. I don't know where that came from. Really, I'm sorry. I don't know why I came. It's just, I don't know, a connection with Raymond. Does that sound crazy?"

"No," he said. "I think that's why I came to the service. I wanted to see what your brother was about, what his family was about. I don't know if I can keep the car now."

They turned and started walking back toward Gino's. "Raymond was a g.a.n.g.b.a.n.ger, a cocaine dealer, and he lost. He got in over his head and couldn't get out, except the way he did. I loved my brother but he gave my mother endless grief and worry. End of story."

"And you?"

"This isn't a good way to start. There must be a girlfriend somewhere, right?"

Bobby nodded. "I live with someone. Two years now."

"Are you in love with her? Are you going to marry her?"

"I don't know," Bobby said. "I thought so."

"I'm not going to be your girlfriend on the side." A glimmer of fire in her eyes now.

"I know," Bobby said.

She got quiet again, but her hand slipped into his. "We're both here for the same reason," she said.

Bobby knew immediately what she meant. They had both been touched by death and they were connected by it in a way only the two of them could understand.

"It's maybe the one good thing Raymond did," Gabriela said.

"Yes," Bobby said. "Maybe it is."

Ibarionex R. Perello

JERVEY TERVALON is the author of is the author of All the Trouble You Need All the Trouble You Need, Understand This, Understand This,and the Los Angeles Times Los Angeles Timesbestseller Dead Above Ground. Dead Above Ground. In 2001, he received the PEN Oakland/Josephine Miles National Literacy Award for Excellence in Multicultural Literature. He is the writer-in-residence at Pitzer College and Occidental College, and is a California Arts Council Fellow. Tervalon was born in New Orleans, raised in Los Angeles, and now lives in the L.A. area with his wife and two daughters. In 2001, he received the PEN Oakland/Josephine Miles National Literacy Award for Excellence in Multicultural Literature. He is the writer-in-residence at Pitzer College and Occidental College, and is a California Arts Council Fellow. Tervalon was born in New Orleans, raised in Los Angeles, and now lives in the L.A. area with his wife and two daughters.

serving monster

by jervey tervalon

The interview for the position of personal chef for Monster Stiles was going to be at the Trump Plaza at this overblown, over-hyped restaurant that only idiots thought anything of.

Bridget, Asha's girlfriend, was a thin blonde who wore a short skirt, even as the first flurries of snow fell from the gray sky.

"I hate New Jersey," I said.

Bridget laughed. I didn't mean for it to be funny.

"So, you had that cute restaurant in the Village?"

I smiled. "I don't know about it being so cute."

"I loved that place," she said.