The Christmas Present

Still, her skin felt too small for her body, as it often did after she’d heard from her mother. Her stomach—which had just started to relax—was in even tighter knots than it had been on the back of Rafael’s motorcycle. But then, Lillian was good at getting Vivian all worked up, good at making her feel vulnerable and inferior and disappointing.

Sometimes she wondered if her mother had been taught her passive-aggressiveness at Vassar along with all the core subjects. So many of her friends had the same ability….

As she crossed to the sofa, Vivian took a bite of her sandwich, but it tasted like sawdust now. Shoving it away, she draped her legs with the violet afghan one of her pro bono clients had made her. Then reminded herself of how much luckier she was than Diego or Marco, or any of the other kids she’d seen at Helping Hands earlier that night. She had a home, a career she loved, a family who had provided for her materially, if not emotionally.

The fact that she had spent her life wanting more just proved how selfish she was. And how lonely.

CHAPTER FOUR

“HEY, ARE YOU GETTING OLD, mi hermano? You’re playing like you’ve got arthritis.”

Rafael flipped his oldest brother, Miguel, the bird before backing up just enough to send the ball soaring into the basket for three points.

“Hey, look at the tall guy taking advantage.” This came from Jose, his teammate and best friend. After everything that had happened to Rafael, it probably should have felt weird to have a cop as a best friend, but they’d been buddies since they were in elementary school together.

Besides, Jose was cool like that—he’d hung by Rafa during his time in prison, despite the crap he’d caught from other members of the force.

“That’s right.” With a grin, he watched Jose intercept the ball, then cruised down the court for the pass. Jose didn’t disappoint, and as soon as Rafa had the ball in his hands, he blew around the opposite team—composed of his two older brothers—and slam-dunked the hell out of it.

Jose whooped. “That was game point, my man!” He looked at Rafa’s middle brother, Gabriel. “You owe us twenty bucks, Papi.”

“I thought gambling was illegal,” Gabe grumbled good-naturedly as he reached into the back pocket of his shorts and pulled out a ten. “Go hit Miguel up for the other half.”

“You know I will!” Jose danced away, talking shit and blowing smoke like he did every time they won. Or lost.

“So, Mama wants to see you.” Gabriel glanced at Rafa, then took a large gulp from his water bottle.

“What else is new? Is there anything specific or is it just time for another ‘you’re my youngest child and I won’t be happy until you settle down’ lecture?”

“I’m sure there’ll be a little of that in there, too.” He smiled when Rafael cursed. “But I think she wants your help planning a surprise party for Miguel.” He nodded at their brother, who currently had Jose in a headlock.

“Seriously? She really wants something to whine about other than how empty her arms feel without my baby in them?”

“I think so, man.”

“Why me? Aren’t the girls the ones who she usually gets to help with stuff like this?”

“Yeah, but Carolina’s a little busy with baby number three right now, and Michaela’s still recovering from pneumonia.” He stepped back and looked his youngest brother over. “Besides, freak boy, you won’t even need a ladder. That’s what you get for growing so big.”

Rafael grabbed a towel to wipe his face, decided to accept defeat gracefully. Maybe if he brought his mama flowers and kept her busy, she wouldn’t remember to nag him about being the only one of her children who was terminally single.

Yeah, right. His mother wouldn’t let a little thing like death stop her from hassling him—why should a bouquet of flowers do the trick? Still, Rafa thought as he drained a water bottle in one long gulp, it was worth a try.

“All right. I’ll call her.”

“You’re a good man.” Gabriel clapped him on the shoulder. “So, winners buy lunch, right? Because I’m starving.”

This time it was Jose who flipped him the bird, having extracted his head from under Miguel’s arm.

“Well, come on then, I’ve got to be back at work in half an hour and I’m hungry, too.” Miguel picked up his bag from the side of the court and headed into the center.

A few minutes later they were all seated at Manuel’s, Rafa’s favorite hole-in-the-wall taco shop, shoveling carne asada burritos into their mouths. Rafa had already blown through his first when he noticed Nacho standing at the corner with an unfamiliar white boy.

“Hey, Jose. Did you get a chance to talk to Nacho about what he pulled the other night?”

Jose followed his gaze. “Absolutely. My partner and I went by and read him the riot act. Hopefully, it’ll be enough.”

Rafa cut his eyes to his best friend. “You don’t think so?”

“No, man. That kid’s a walking time bomb.”

“That’s what I think, too.”

“Who’s he with?” Miguel nodded at the prepped-out white kid. In his chinos and fancy sweater, he stuck out like Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer. “Is he one of your kids, Rafa?”

“No, but he seems familiar.” He continued to watch him, wondering what the kid was doing in this neighborhood—and with Nacho. “That doesn’t look good, though.” He turned to Jose.

“I know. But I can’t see Nacho buying any of his customers lunch.”

“He’s dealing?” This from Gabriel.

“That’s what I hear.”

Rafael cursed. “You know that’s not a good thing. The kid’s already an amoral ass. I can’t wait to see what a few months as a dealer turns him into.”

“I think it’s too late to worry about that.” Jose took another big bite.

“I know. But still…” Rafa ran a hand over his eyes. You can’t save them all, he reminded himself. Especially the ones who aren’t interested in salvation. It grated that a teenager was going bad in front of his eyes. He still remembered Nacho as a little kid. He’d been skinny and mean even then, but there’d been something endearing about him, anyway. Now he was just plain mean.

Regardless, Rafa couldn’t help wondering if the rest was still there, too, just buried beneath the crap. On his way out of the restaurant, he stopped by the table. “Hey, Nacho. Who’s your friend?”

“Screw you, Rafael.”

“Thanks, but you’re not my type.” He held out his hand to the other kid, who shook it, but then looked as if he wanted to swim in a vat of hand sanitizer.

Rafa didn’t get what these two were doing together, but he’d bet the twenty in his wallet that it had something to do with the drugs Jose had been talking about. “We’re having a barbecue at the center this weekend. You guys should drop by.”

“Yeah, ’cause that’s going to happen,” Nacho sneered.

“Too busy picking on defenseless women to make time for a hamburger, huh?”

“Too busy avoiding pendejos like you.”

“Well, that’s your prerogative.” He looked at the preppy kid. “Nice to meet you…?’

“Thomas.”

“Thomas,” he repeated. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”