Maura didn’t mind the gray sweatsuit. She didn’t mind the shouting of the instructor. She didn’t mind the slow jog up and down the hills of Elysian Park. In fact, she was smiling. She couldn’t help herself. Here she was, a cadet in the police academy. A year of training and she’d be out on the street. Working a beat.
It was a good change for her. She hadn’t realized how burned out she’d gotten helping guys learn to jack off. Honestly, if they can’t come by the skills naturally, they ought to just forget about it. No one’s making you masturbate.
She jogged in formation with the other cadets, a mix of men and women, Asians, Latinos, blacks, and anglos of various ages. The youngest was an eighteen-year-old Chinese girl, the oldest was a forty-two-year-old washed-up screenwriter. All of them were committing themselves to change. It was inspirational.
Maura thought about her life. She hadn’t expected too much out of it. An interesting job, if she was lucky. A boyfriend. A couple of good vacations. Maybe get married and have a kid.
She hadn’t expected to be opened up and turned inside out by life. She hadn’t expected new passions, obsessions even, to erupt out of her consciousness and explode fully formed into her world. She never even knew such things existed.
Now that she’d had a taste of them, there was no turning back.
Esteban felt his weight cause the hammock to swing gently side to side. A breeze came off the ocean, smell-ing like very fresh salt. Even though it was chilly in the shade of the palmthatched umbrella thing — was it called a palapita? — the sand around him reflected the warmth of the sun.
He could hear the clear blue waves crashing against the shore, gaviotas honking overhead, and the unmistakable sound of ice clinking in salt-rimmed glasses.
Esteban shifted, the hammock bouncing, and turned toward the sound. He squinted against the glare and saw Lupe, looking guapísima in a fluorescent orange bikini, walking toward him carrying a couple of drinks. Esteban saw a glint of rainbow, the flash of a large diamond, flicker on her left hand. He smiled. He was enjoying being married.
He took the drinks from her and tried to hold them steady as she eased her way into the hammock with him. He could feel the little grains of sand that had stuck to her body as she pressed herself close to him.
They sipped their drinks in silence.
There was nothing to say.
Felicia rolled over and looked Bob in the eyes. Bob shifted, turning so he could meet her gaze.
“What’s up?”
“I’m just looking at you.”
Bob smiled.
“What do you see?”
“I see a good man. A man who is trying to do the right thing even when he doesn’t always know what the right thing to do is.”
Bob laughed and stroked her hair.
“I do try.”
“I hope you always try, Roberto. The effort is more important than the results.”
She kissed him.
“And I see something else, my sweet Roberto.”
“What?”
“I see the father of my child.”
Bob couldn’t believe it.
“What?”
Felicia grinned.
“I’m pregnant.”
Bob lay there, glazed with a strange kind of happiness. It was a new emotion. Electric and deep. A powerful completeness he’d never experienced.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Are you happy?”
A tear jumped out of Bob’s eye and ran down his cheek.
“Yeah. I’m…”
He choked on his words, turned and dove into her, holding tightly. She stroked his hair.
“I’m thinking if it’s a girl, we name her Frida.”
Bob lifted his head.
“And if it’s a boy? Freddy?”
“No. Don’t be silly. Freddy is not a good name for a boy.”
“Not Roberto.”
“Why not? Roberto is a lovely name.”
“Yo soy Roberto.”
Felicia laughed.
“There can only be one Roberto?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a name you like?”
Bob smiled.
“Diego.”
Amado couldn’t believe it. He had always thought that crime was the most lucrative job around. Well, investment bankers might make more, but then that’s a kind of crime. Isn’t it?
But when Stan and his agent had finished squabbling on the phone Amado just shook his head in amazement. Writing for television paid far better than he could ever have imagined. He stopped off at a liquor store and bought a bottle of expensive French Champagne. He couldn’t wait to tell Cindy the news.
Twenty-three
ROBERTO CAME TO a stop with the rest of the traffic. He liked his new car, a metallic green Volkswagen Beetle. It looked like Kermit the Frog from Sesame Street. Friendly and cool, childish and groovy. Perfect for El Jefe’s new consultant and second-in-command. Perfect for him.
He also liked that it had a small trunk. That meant he wouldn’t be stuffing anyone in it anytime soon. The car had been Amado’s idea. Why not go for a whole new image? The green bug and his slick new clothes — Felicia had decided he should wear khakis and guayaberas like Diego Rivera, sunglasses like that French actor who played the cool hit man in The Professional — everything about Roberto caught people off guard.
Members of La Eme wondered where he came from. How did he earn Esteban’s trust? Had Roberto killed the other gringo? Just who was this dapper man in the froggy-colored car?
The word on the street was that Roberto was smart, fearless, and very ruthless. Amado backed up this story, telling everyone he knew how he’d been skimming some of Esteban’s profit and that Roberto found him out and marked him for death. Only after Amado begged for his life and promised to quit the business did Roberto show mercy.
He only took Amado’s arm.
This story spread quickly throughout the criminal subculture of Los Angeles and earned Roberto some serious respect.
It also afforded him some latitude. Roberto wasn’t a man of violence. He didn’t like all the kidnapping and killing. So, except in extreme cases, he put a stop to it. He wanted the crew to be run like a legitimate business. Like that hippie ice cream company where everyone has long hair and is happy all the time.
It took a little while to convince Esteban that this kind of strategy would work. But even Esteban had to admit that he was tired of running drugs and stealing cars, he’d much rather move into the legitimate business world. So he gave Roberto the authority to slowly begin the process of transforming a hard-core criminal enterprise into a legitimate and diversified holding company.
Roberto was surprised at how eager his employees were to make a change. It seemed that, deep down, they all wanted to work on the right side of the law. They were tired of living in constant fear of arrest, deportation, or worse, some kind of hostile takeover from a rival crew. After their initial suspicions that Roberto was some kind of highly skilled FBI agent, almost everyone in the organization came around to his way of thinking.
And why wouldn’t they? Roberto was open, friendly, smart, and persuasive. He would stop in at the chop shop and take all the guys out to lunch. He would give the coyotes gifts for their kids. He instilled a pride of belonging in members of Esteban’s crew.