BOB’S

WHEN I GET THERE, Julisa’s sitting at a table behind a big stack of bright orange flyers with a decent photocopy of Luis’s mug on them. She’s marking up a map. Chewing on some onion rings.

“Gregory, grab some sustenance.”

I dip a ring into some tartar sauce and take a seat. I tell her about Graves and Quintel and Tre. I tell her we’re not the only ones worried about Luis.

Carlos bursts through the door and sits beside us.

“You got anything, Díaz?” Julisa asks.

“My cousin said he was at Cristián’s and Luis was a no-show. Vatos were real pissed. But it’s nothing new ’cuz it’s been a long time since Luis hung with anybody. The crazier thing is nobody’s seen Flaco in a whole week. That crew is tight and nobody knows nothing.”

I tell him to keep on asking around. He seems gung-ho to help out.

We both look to Julisa. “All right, guys. Let’s get rolling on the posters.” She grabs her big old pencil pouch and selects the proper highlighter, highlighting our individual territories on our maps. She gives us a stack of posters. She’s got a staple gun and a couple hammers and nails, so we’re covered there.

Before we split up, Julisa asks where we should meet in the morning.

“You’re in for another day?” I ask.

“I don’t see Luis anywhere,” she says.

I like Julisa Mendez.

As we walk out, the Korean lady wishes us good luck.

Carlos stops just outside the door. “I never mentioned this ’cuz I just remembered it. This one time a few months ago, my little brother, Aldo, told me Luis was at his school, hangin’ out in the next class or something. I don’t know what he was doing over there, but I think it’s strange. Gangster hangin’ out at an elementary school.”

“Did you ever ask him about it?” I say.

“Nah, man. We don’t talk much.”

“Do you guys talk ever?”

“He got his own thing.”

“You talked like you knew him.”

“We’re not pals, awright? But everyone knows all kinds of shit about his brother. And about his pop. But Luis? He don’t really talk to nobody. He’s a mystery dude.”

“Do you know how he got his scar?”

“Nah, but I can imagine. There are all kinds of stories out there, but nobody knows for sure. What I do know is bad vatos get bad scars.”

I finally get it. All that time when I thought Carlos knew him, when he was bugging me about him, he was just trying to get closer to Luis. He doesn’t know him at all.

“So which elementary school did your brother see him at?”

“Denny, man.”

I tell them I’m going over there after school tomorrow.

We head into the rain our separate ways and start getting acquainted with the phone poles of Des Moines, Washington.