Page 2 of Bad Men

I knew she meant well. She had my best interest at heart but what she was asking for was impossible. It was something I’d tried and failed for seven years. I even tried dating other men. I tried throwing myself fully into every relationship in hopes of sparking life into it, but at the back of my mind, I’d known it would never last. They weren’t Davien or Nero. They didn’t make my knees weak or my skin hyper aware of them whenever they got close. They didn’t make me wet. They didn’t make me want to do something risky and dangerous just to feel how it would be to be with them even once. Nero and Davien may not have known it was me that night, but I would remember it forever and no one could replace that.

“Mimi?”

“I should let you go.” I rubbed at the spot between my tired eyes with the tips of four fingers. “Talk later?”

“Of course. You okay?”

“Yeah, fine. I have laundry to finish anyway.”

We both knew that was a lie, but Liana didn’t push me on it. We promised to text before bed and hung up.

I tossed the phone down on the coffee table and moved to peek through the crack in the blinds. The heavy fabric — a handmade gift from my grandma — was perfect for days when the radio warned everyone to stay indoors and to stay hydrated. It blocked the light, keeping the house almost bearable. It was still a thousand degrees, but at least ripples of heat weren’t coming off the ground.

Outside, asphalt was melting under parked cars, leaving grooves where the tires had sunk into the ground. In several places, fires had broken out, causing chaos for miles.

Inside, we were in a slow roasting oven. The humidity alone was enough to make me want to strip naked and lie spread eagle across the kitchen linoleum. My thin, white dress clung to me, becoming a fine, restricting layer of second skin rubbing against me. I had opted against undergarments, the sweat and discomfort driving me to put as little on as possible. Still, stray strands of hair was plastered to my temples and the back of my neck. My spine felt sticky and hot. My inner thighs sweltered. The strip of skin under my boobs … I couldn’t even.

Six feet away, my reflection blinked at me from the round mirror fixed in the tiny foyer at the bottom of the stairs. From my spot in the sitting room, I could just see my flushed face staring back at me, miserable, tired, and covered in a fine sheen of sweat. My thick riot of curls was partially still up in a messy bun at the top of head. A few strands had slipped free to tangle with my gold hoops and tickle my shoulders, but the majority stayed in place. I had decided against makeup that morning and it had been the right decision. Last thing I needed was to have mascara streaking down my face with the sweat, especially on that day of all days.

It was payday … and not the good kind. Today was the day we had to pay for our lives, for living in our homes, in our community. It was a chunk of money most of us didn’t have but to not pay meant becoming an example of what happened to people who didn’t pay.

Eduardo Bernardo wasn’t a merciful man. He didn’t care that my parents worked two jobs each or that I gave up on my life to help them make ends meet. He only understood money. The thugs and criminals that worked for him were worse.

But we got lucky. Nero and Davien were never as bad as the ones who ran the other blocks. They weren’t fuzzy bunnies by any accounts, but they protected us. They kept the other collectors from our doors, kept the soldiers from our schools and children. We’d heard stories of the other blocks and their collectors, vicious, rabid monsters who took whatever they wanted, especially the girls. Neither Davien nor Nero had ever taken more than the money owed to Eduardo. Not that that made them saints, but it made them decent, in my books.

It was never ending and brutal, but that was life on the wrong side of the tracks.

We didn’t get police protection.

We didn’t have people picketing signs and protesting our way of life.

Eduardo and his dogs were evils we had to live with.

They were our reality.

Our salvation.

Our deaths.

I glanced up at the ceiling overhead, stained a faint yellow from years of my uncles’ chain-smoking during family gatherings. The sitting room was directly under my parent’s bedroom. I knew my father was up there, counting our June pay, making sure every penny was accounted for before Nero and Davien arrived. Mom had already counted it the night before at the dinner table after all the dishes had been cleared and washed. I’d sat across from her, watching quietly as she made neat stacks with stiff, shaky fingers. I could see her biting back every wince just from sitting too long and my heart ached.

“Do you want me to get your pills, mama?” I asked, already pushing to my feet.

She shook her head, face set. “I’m okay, niña. Nearly done.”

Mom had Avascular Necrosis, a bone degenerating disease due to loss of blood flow. It had started gradually around her hips and thighs, but the pain grew worse every year. Though she swore she was fine, I’d seen her struggle to sit or stand. I’d heard her crying in the bathroom because my father had to help her over the tub lip. The pain meds the doctors gave her were expensive but even they didn’t seem to be helping as much, and Mom refused to take time off work to get the marrow injection or even the surgery.

“Mama?” I waited until I had her attention before pressing an argument I knew I would lose. “I was thinking, maybe I could get another job.”

Her brows furrowed as it did every time I mentioned a second job for me, even though she and my dad worked two, sometimes three. “You have a job. What’s wrong with the diner? Is Nestor not giving you more shifts? Is that why you’re not working tomorrow?”

I never worked the first of the month. It was the one day off I requested. Nestor never asked but I suspected he thought I wanted to be with my parents when the collectors came. He wasn’t entirely wrong. The first was the only time I got to see Davien and Nero up close, when I got to talk to them without raising questions and suspicions. Only Liana knew the truth.

“No, Nestor’s great. That isn’t why. I’m going to keep working at the diner, but I thought maybe I could get something on the side. I know we could use the money. Maybe we could save it and use it for that surgery the doctor—”

“Enough.” She didn’t slam her hands on the table, but she may as well have with the sharp crack of her voice. “I told you when you left school that you get one job, but you go back to school. Those were the conditions. Do you think I want this for you forever? You will not fall into this life, Mia. So, you go to school or nothing else.”

It was the same thing she said every time. I knew we’d be less in a hole every month if I could do more. My pay at the diner was fine but it wasn’t enough. If I made more, she and my dad wouldn’t have to work so hard.

---