THE WEEKEND CAME AND WENT. FLIP TOOK Graciela dancing at a new club, one José and the Indians did not frequent. It was a good time and afterward they went back to the new apartment for the night. In the dark he thought about asking Graciela how José had known she was pregnant, but the moment did not seem right and by the time the thought occurred to him again it was morning.
Flip hadn’t told his mother he was moving. Eventually he would have to, but he did not look forward to the reaction the news would bring. He was not a boy anymore, but to his mamá he would always be. Maybe leaving was a good thing.
Flip was on his lunch break at the warehouse when the call came. No one noticed when he stepped away from the picnic tables, or remarked when he turned his back to the others to speak. Flip was still ill at ease.
“Flip, it’s José.”
“José. What do you want?”
“Hey, I’m sorry I called you at work, okay? I just thought you might want to know: our first truck is coming through on Wednesday. I want you to tell that boss of yours which one to look out for. You got a pen?”
“Yeah, I got a pen.”
“Write this down.” José gave Flip an identifying number that Flip scrawled on the palm of his hand. “You know what the truck looks like, right? When you see it, you call me. And make sure your boss puts it somewhere out of the way. Nobody touches that truck until our people come to unload the stuff.”
“People are gonna ask why’s that truck just sitting there,” Flip said.
“Tell them you don’t know. Tell them it’s none of their business. It’s your boss that has to worry about that kind of thing. So long as he keeps up his end of the deal, I don’t care what he says to them. Remind him that I’m paying him a thousand bucks to do nothing. He’ll take it and like it or he’ll get another ass-whipping.”
Flip looked at the ground. “I’ll tell him,” he mumbled.
“Now listen to me, Flip. Listen carefully. I don’t want you around when the truck gets unloaded, all right? You leave that to the people I send. You’re my lookout, my man on the inside. That’s what you do.”
“Okay, José, I won’t stick around.”
“Good boy. Hey, how’s the new place working out?”
“It’s great, José, thanks.”
“You don’t need to thank me. I told you before, you’re my investment. You got to have nice things when you work for me. It means you’ll do good work. Anyway, I’ll talk to you later. Say hello to Graciela for me.”
“I will. Good-bye.”
Flip shut his phone and glanced back over his shoulder at the picnic tables. Not one curious eye was turned his way. He put the phone away and walked back toward the warehouse on heavy feet.
Since he came back to work, Alfredo had stopped taking his meals outside with the other workers. Instead he lurked in his office, filling out paperwork with one hand while eating with the other. He used to come out more often and talk to the guys on the job, but that had ended, too. Flip thought maybe it was because Alfredo did not want to see him.
He knocked on the office door. Alfredo looked up, saw him through the window, and looked back down at his work. Flip opened the door and came in.
“What the hell do you want?” Alfredo asked.
“José just called me.”
“The great José,” Alfredo remarked. “What the hell does he want?”
“The first truck is coming Wednesday. I don’t know what time. José wants to make sure you have an eye out for it. Here’s the registration number.” Flip wrote the number from his palm on a piece of notepaper and passed it to Alfredo.
Alfredo finally lifted his gaze to glare at Flip. “You people are really going to go through with it, aren’t you? This stupid plan to ship drugs into the country? All it would take is one phone call from me and the police would be all over this place just waiting for the chance to throw your worthless ass in jail.”
Flip thought he should be tough, but instead he wanted to throw himself down and beg Alfredo for forgiveness. He didn’t care how it would look, or anything about his pride. What he wanted was for things to be good again. Finally he said, “You wouldn’t snitch on José. You can’t.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“If you tell the cops, you’ll never be safe. José would put a green light out on you. Every Azteca in the city would have your name. You’d be a dead man.”
Alfredo said nothing for a long time, though his eyes were flinty. “You really are some piece of work. If I didn’t know better, I’d say there was no way Silvia could have raised a piece of shit like you. Your father would disown you.”
“Don’t talk about my father.”
“Why not? You going to kill me yourself?”
“Just don’t talk about him. You want to be mad, then be mad at me.”
Alfredo paused. Flip saw he was gripping a pencil tightly. He was almost curious to see if it would snap. “You need to get the hell out of my sight,” Alfredo said. “Get out. Take the rest of the day off. Just go away.”
“I’ll finish my shift,” Flip said.
“What’s that supposed to be? You being responsible? Don’t make me laugh.”
“I’ll finish my shift,” Flip repeated.
“Then finish your goddamned shift. See if I care. If you won’t go away, then get out of my office. I don’t like the smell.”
Flip let himself out and did not slam the door. Walking away he could feel Alfredo watching him. He was glad to be outside again.