Remember Me 2: The Return Page 2

  At the time she happened to be sitting on the end of Lenny's bed watching as Darlene Sanchez used the cracked mirror precariously attached to the top Lenny's chest of drawers to replace a few loose braids. Darlene was Hispanic, but wanted to be black; a formidable task, to be sure, since she was naturally whiter than Carol after makeup. Sporty Quinones had been Darlene's first non-African American boyfriend, a fact that was somewhat at odds with her reputation of having slept with most of the juniors and seniors in the school.

  But who was counting, colors or numbers. Darlene was hot, no debating that.

  "How are you feeling, girl?" Darlene asked, gazing at her in the mirror.

  "I'm all right," Jean said.

  "You looked like hell all night."

  "Thanks a lot."

  "No, I mean your mood." Darlene lifted a few strands of hair above her head and, in the blink of an eye, braided them. Her braids made her look pretty scary when she wore them just right. Her long painted fingernails were just as bad. They reminded Jean of razors dipped in blood. Darlene added, "You look like someone just died."

  Jean realized she had a can of beer in her hand and took a sip. "Someone just did."

  Darlene acted pissed. "Great! You had to bring that up. I'm here to have a good time, and you have to talk about Sporty."

  "I wasn't talking about him." Jean shrugged. "In this town someone dies practically every hour."

  "Yeah, right. God, what a downer you are."

  Jean burped. "Sorry."

  Darlene waved her hand. "It doesn't matter. I don't mind talking about him.

  We're going to talk about him later anyway. We're going to have a little meeting when the party's over, Lenny and I. You should stay for it."

  "What kind of meeting?" Jean asked.

  "You'll see."

  "I came with Carol. Can she be there?"

  Darlene seemed exasperated. She could change her expression quicker than most people inhaled. "That girl. She doesn't know what she is. Do you know what she said to me this evening?"

  "I can guess."

  "She said, 'You know, Darlene, there are two sides to everything. You don't know what belongs on front until you check the behind.' Can you believe she said that to me?"

  "I don't even know what it means."

  "It means, dope head, that she's still trying to get in my pants. Lenny tells me you're straight as an arrow. How can you have a dyke as a best friend?"

  "It's easy. She's not a dyke to me. She's a great girl."

  Darlene paused. "Have you two ever done it?"

  "Done what?"

  "Had sex, for godssakes! Have you?"

  "No. Carol's not interested in me that way."

  "What is she interested in then?"

  "She's my friend. She needs friends as much as straight people. Maybe more.

  Maybe you should try being her friend rather than always badmouthing her."

  "Maybe she should quit hitting on me first," Darlene said.

  "She's not hitting on you. She's just flirting with you. You should be flattered."

  "I'm not. She makes me nervous. She makes me feel like I might be ajoto and not know it."

  "Maybe you are a joto, Darlene." Jean allowed herself a rare smile. "Anybody who goes around with a head looking like a snake fest has got to have something wrong with her."

  Darlene laughed. "Hell, you're probably right." She finished with her hair and turned around. "How do I look?"

  "Am I the right person to ask? I just told you. You look great."

  "Thanks. You want to go get something to eat?"

  "You mean, leave the party?" Jean asked.

  "Yeah, I mean leave the party. You can't eat any of the rot in Lenny's refrigerator. We can hit the Jack-in the Box down the street and be back in twenty minutes."

  Jean shook her head. "You go ahead. I don't feel very hungry."

  Darlene sat on the bed beside her friend, concerned.

  "Really, are you all right, Jean?"

  Jean shrugged. "Yeah, I'm just tired."

  "Are you and Lenny getting on all right?"

  "Yeah." Jean paused. "I think so. Do you know something I don't?"

  Darlene hesitated. "No." She stood quickly. "I'll be back soon. Remember that meeting. I want you there."

  "I won't be there unless Carol's there. She's my ride home."

  "Aren't you going to spend the night with Lenny? It is his birthday, after all."

  "No," Jean said. "My mother would freak."

  Darlene seemed to think for a moment, then nodded. "That's what mothers are for."

  Darlene left. Jean continued to sit on the edge of the bed and sip her beer. She studied herself in the mirror. It was only then she remembered the dream she'd had that morning. It had been wonderful yet simple, painful to wake from. She dreamed she was floating above her house and that just a few blocks away she could see a colorful amusement park, the rainbow of shimmering lights illumining her insides as much as the neighborhood. The feelings of the dream had been more important than the actual events. She knew that if she would just fly over there, she could enter that place of constant fun and excitement.

  Where there were people who cared and things to do that meant something.

  And in the dream she was being given that choice, to leave her house, her life, and never return. Why had she awakened? She sure as hell hadn't said no to the offer. Now the memory of the dream made her sad. Made her sad that it was gone, forever.

  After some time Lenny entered his bedroom. He had on his black leather jacket; he seldom took it off, even on nights as warm as this. His long black hair was pulled back in a ponytail. They had talked little all night.

  Conversation wasn't big with either of them. They were better just sitting and watching a movie together, or smoking a joint, or making love. She had assumed they'd have sex tonight since, as Darlene said, it was his birthday.

  But now she had to wonder if she could talk herself into the right mood. Lenny sat on the bed beside her and leaned over to give her a kiss. She kissed him back—sort of. He sensed her lack of enthusiasm and drew away.

  "What's wrong?" he asked.

  "Nothing." She touched his leg. "How are you doing?"

  "Good. Great party, huh?"

  "Yeah. That was great dope. Where did you get it?"

  He shrugged. "The usual sources. Where did Darlene go?"

  "To Jack-in-the-Box. She was hungry."

  "We have pizza in the living room," Lenny said.

  Jean forced a smile. "It's on the living room floor. I think Darlene worries about hygiene."

  Lenny chuckled; it sounded forced as well. "Then I don't know what she was doing with Sporty. That guy had equipment that needed to be machined to get clean."

  "Was he that bad?"

  Lenny paused and stared at her. "I don't know. He just told me so many stories."

  "About so many girls?"

  Lenny nodded. "Yeah. You must have seen how he carried on at school?"

  "Yeah, he got around some, I guess. When Darlene wasn't around."

  "But they weren't going out that long," Lenny said.

  "Really? I thought it was a few months."

  Lenny continued to watch her. "Something's bothering you, Jean. What is it?"

  She lowered her head. "Well, there is something I wanted to tell you. I should have told you earlier, but I was afraid. But I don't know if this is the right time, either."

  Lenny sucked in a deep breath and became still. She sensed his rigidity more than saw it because she continued to keep her head low. Finally he let the breath out.

  "Yes?" he said softly.

  "I'm pregnant."

  The two words seemed to float out of her mouth and into a vacuum. The room became a bowl sitting on some troll's table, and they were breakfast. She raised her head and saw that Lenny had closed his eyes. A vein pulsed on his forehead. It looked as if it might pop if the pressure wasn't released soon. She wanted to say something to make him feel bet
ter like I'll get rid of it or maybe the test kit was wrong. But she doubted he would have heard her at that moment. His mind seemed to have fled to a place where there were no words.

  Finally, though, he opened his eyes and looked at her. His expression was strangely blank.

  "Are you sure?" he asked softly.

  "Yes." She paused. "I'm sorry. Lousy birthday present, huh?"

  "I've had better. What do you want to do?"

  "I don't know. What do you want to do?"

  "It's up to you."

  "No, it's up to both of us." She felt a painful lump in her throat. She had taken her hand off his leg, and she wanted to put it back, to hug him, maybe kiss him again. But they were like two strangers sitting in a cheap motel room. At least that was how the two people in the cracked mirror looked.

  Jean regretted having started the conversation in front of their reflections. It made her feel more lost. How did she really feel about Lenny? She had told him she loved him; he had told her the same. But those were just words. She didn't believe she could love him because she didn't know what love was. She didn't even know if there was such a thing, if it wasn't all hype. She added, "We can keep it or we can get rid of it. I'm not going to force it on you."

  "How much does an abortion cost?" he asked.

  "Three hundred dollars. About."

  He smiled thinly and shook his head. "That's mucha lana. You were raised Catholic. Could you go through with an abortion?"

  She sighed. "I don't know." His next question caught her off guard.

  "What do you think he'd look like?" he asked.

  She hesitated. "Bueno. Like the two of us. But it might be a she, you know."

  "Have you ever seen pictures of me when I was a baby?"

  "No. You haven't shown me any." She paused. "I'd like to see some."

  "No, you wouldn't. I looked awful. But maybe he would look—better." He stood and eyed the door.

  "Let's talk about this later when no one's around. Right now I have to enjoy my twentieth birthday party. It's the only one I'm ever going to have."

  "Lo siento, I'm sorry," she said again.

  "Don't be sorry," he said as he left the room.

  Ninety minutes later Jean was sitting in the living room with Lenny, Carol, and Darlene. After Lenny had left her, Jean had fallen back on the bed and passed out for an hour. She hadn't dreamed, only entered a black void where there was no sound or feeling and slept the sleep of the dead. She didn't even know who she was when she awakened in the dark. The disorientation had lingered.

  Who had turned off the bedroom light? She didn't know and it didn't matter.

  The four of them were the only ones left at the party. Jean sat on the couch with Lenny. Carol was on the floor, acting bored. Her Russian boyfriend had never shown. Darlene, as usual, paced. Darlene wanted revenge, she wanted blood. Her little meeting was about planning a hit on Sporty's murderers, specifically on Juan Chiato.

  Juan was the biggest drug dealer at their high school, although he hadn't been to class in ten years. He was twenty-one years old, high up in the Red Blades, one of the most vicious of the inner city gangs. Jean knew Juan by sight; she had met him twice at Lenny's house. He'd been leaving as she went in. Out of necessity, Lenny said he occasionally had to deal with Juan, although Lenny clearly did not like to be in the same room as Juan, who was known for his violent temper. But Juan had direct contact with Colombian drug lords and practically set the price of cocaine in their neighborhood. His face was badly scarred from knife fights. Jean thought he looked like one of Satan's first lieutenants. She hadn't known Sporty was connected to Juan, but she supposed she'd been mistaken.

  "Let me tell you why I know it was Juan," Darlene said as she strode back and forth in front of them, a cigarette in her hand. "The week before Sporty died, he told me about a deal he had going with Juan. You didn't know about it, Lenny.

  Sporty told me Juan had sworn him to secrecy. Anyway, Sporty told me about it because he could never keep his mouth shut when he was drunk. It had nothing to do with drugs. Juan had stolen a truckload of Levi's jeans. He had slipped onto a freight company's lot with a gun and put the barrel to the security guard's head and driven away with the trailer. He wanted to use Sporty to sell the jeans to certain stores. Sporty was game. The commission looked good, and he thought dealing with store owners would be a lot more pleasant than the jerks that hung around Juan. But what he didn't know was that Juan was just using him. The stores he sent Sporty to paid protection to the Bald Caps. You know them?"

  Lenny nodded. "Cierto. They're a small gang, but they control much of downtown, especially around the convention center and the skyscrapers. Why did Juan want to piss them off?"

  "I asked Sporty that," Darlene said. "He thought maybe Juan was trying to set something up between the Red Blades and the Bald Caps. Juan was trying to move up in the Blades, and he was impatient. He wanted some action that he could lead, show the others how strong he was. He wanted a fight. He sent Sporty out, not to sell jeans, but to start a war with the Bald Caps. Right away Sporty ran into trouble. The Caps cornered him and threatened to cut out his heart for daring to enter their territory. They stole his van full of jeans. Sporty went running back to Juan and told him what had happened, but Juan didn't want to hear about it. He gave Sporty an ultimatum—either he got the jeans back or he was going to cut out his heart Sporty yelled at him, said he had just been set up. Then Sporty made a big mistake. He told Juan he was thinking of going to the police to tell them the whole story."

  "No," Lenny said, shaking his head. "He wouldn't have been that esttipido. "

  Darlene paused in her pacing. "Sporty was pretty stupid sometimes. I can say that because I loved him. I asked him how Juan reacted, and he said Juan didn't say anything, which we all know is not the best response to get from a bloodthirsty son of a bitch like Juan Chiato. I tell you, Sporty was scared. He had a right to be scared." Darlene nodded, her eyes burning.

  "That all happened four weeks ago, and now look what's happened. Sporty's dead. Juan killed him, there's no doubt about it. We have to kill the bastard."

  The room was silent for a full minute. Jean didn't know what to say. It did sound like Juan was probably the culprit, but who in his right mind would take revenge against someone who had a whole gang at his back? The Red Blades would reearn their name hunting down and slaughtering whoever touched Juan. And if they just happened to murder a few who were only guilty by indirect association, then so much the better.

  Jean regretted having asked if Carol could stay for the meeting. Sitting on the floor against the wall, Carol looked full of regrets. Darlene must have been loaded to be talking about such things so openly. Yet she appeared in full command of her senses. It was Lenny who spoke first, and Jean was surprised when he didn't dismiss Darlene's proposal outright.

  "I can't understand why Sporty didn't tell me he was having trouble with Juan," he said. "He should have come to me right away, before he tried to sell any jeans. I would have told him to stay as far away as he could from the guy."

  "He wanted to make his own mark," Darlene said.

  "He wanted to make his own money. Sporty got tired of living in your shadow and wanted to do something about it."

  Lenny shifted uncomfortably. "He picked a bad way to go about it."

  "We've already established that he wasn't the most intelligent guy on the planet," Carol said.

  "Shut up," Darlene said. "I can say those things, but you can't. You didn't love him."

  Carol made a face. "I hardly knew him."

  "Let's say, for the sake of argument, that it was Juan," Lenny said. "If we want him dead, we have to do it ourselves. Anyone else will talk to someone else.

  And if we do kill him, it's got to look like someone else did it. Because the second Juan's Blade buddies find his body, they're going to guess it was either Darlene or me who was behind it because we were Sporty's best friends."

  "I hope you're not suggesting that it has to l
ook like an accident," Carol said.

  Lenny shook his head impatiently. "If Juan has a dozen bullets in him, it can't look like an accident."

  "We could run him over," Darlene suggested.

  "It might be better to blow him up," Lenny said.

  "The less left, the better."

  Jean felt compelled to speak. "Wait a second. What are we talking about here?

  Sporty's dead and that's terrible. But we can't avenge his death, especially if it was Juan who killed him. His gang will know who did it no matter how you plan it. They'll kill us all."

  "Why would they kill you?" Lenny asked, an odd note in his voice.

  "Because I was Sporty's friend, too," Jean said, annoyed at the question.

  "Because I'm here with you guys talking about this foolish plan. You can't go up against someone that's high up in a gang. It's just not done. You know that, Lenny. Why are you even listening to Darlene?"

  Lenny held her eye before answering, his face dark. He hadn't appreciated her remarks. "Because I was his friend. A real friend doesn't do nothing after his friend's gunned down. I was there. He died in my arms."

  Jean returned his stare. When angered, few people intimidated her. "What were you two doing at the projects so late at night?" she asked. "So close to Juan's home ground?"

  Lenny didn't blink. "I didn't know about Sporty's problems with Juan. I said that already."

  "But that doesn't answer my question," Jean said.

  "At night that piece of turf is a death zone."

  "No one's asking you to be involved, Jean," Darlene said bitterly. "I just thought since Sporty always told me what a great girl you were that you'd want to be in on the payback."

  "What payback is that going to be?" Jean asked, her voice hot "Kill Juan and live in fear every second until they come for us? And who's to say they'll simply shoot us? They might torture us first. You heard about what happened to that teenage bookie that the police found on Main? During the autopsy they found a pillowcase in his stomach. Do you know how scared someone has to be to swallow a pillowcase? Oh, and did I forget to mention that his throat had been cut from ear to ear? That was down on Main, Darlene Red Blade territory, Juan's playing ground."