At Risk of Being a Fool (7 page)

They were waiting, all of them.

“I’m afraid there’s not, Jeanie.” Mackie looked at Sorrel, who examined her fingernails with complete absorption. “She had a different placement, the same place Rosalie’s at now, Esperanza, wonderful people. But she loused it up good and bounced herself back to Corrections. Esperanza agreed to take her again after six months, if they had an opening, but they rarely do. The voluntaries all go there, like Rosalie, so there’s not much room for the detainees. Torrez’s place is rarely booked up, so she takes the overflow. I have to say she does stick to procedure mostly.”

“She enjoys the power. Her little tantrum was sadistic.”

Mackie nodded. “Yep, she’s on a power trip. But it’s rough finding people to do that kind of work. The supervisors have to live there, you know, at least part of the time. Randy told Sorrel to wait for Esperanza, but she couldn’t stand it, never getting to see her kid. It’s the last step, before parole. She said she’d tough it out with Torrez. She figures it’s worth it.”

Jeanie looked at Sorrel with new respect.

“There’s a good side to all this, Jeanie. We do have successes, like Natalie and Maria. The girls respect survivors like that, who’ve been through the gutters and come out with a real life.”

“Especially Rosalie.”

“Yeah, that bit with the baby really got her. Did you know the foster Mom’s trying to have Rosalie’s rights suspended?”

“Can she do that?”

“Not easily. She’s new at it, got all wound up about little Dominic. She’s making a heck of a fuss. I guess Child Services will have to pull him out, place him in a different home, and that’s a shame. It’s hard on Rosalie. She’s a lousy mother, but she adores Dominic.”

“That’s going to throw Rosalie right off the deep end.” Not that Rosalie’s needs outweighed Dominic’s. But the decision reminded Jeanie too strongly of the old question posed to many heartbroken men. Which should we save, the mother or the child?

Mackie’s mouth twisted, acknowledging the truth of the remark. “But we do have successes, Jeanie, that’s the big thing. I’m so glad Ricardo Cervantes agreed to come. He used to be really big in the gang, high up in the pecking order. Same gang as Quinto and Tonio, up in
Portland
. He’s Quinto’s brother, you know. He got the rug pulled out from under him and turned himself around. He’s at a big retail operation now, on the junior management track. They just love him to death. Works long hours, conscientious—all that and bilingual, it’s hard to beat.”

The door sprang open, and a young man strode in the room
. Han Solo
, thought Jeanie, only Hispanic. He wore that same engaging grin, the sense of adventure, as he coursed through the life on his own cock-eyed mission.

Quinto and Tonio sprang up. “Hey man, good to see you, homeboy,” Tonio said, his eyes shining.

“Right on, looking good. How about you, Flaco, hanging in there? You still fit your nickname! You’re as skinny as ever. How’s the artist? Whoa, is that your latest? Old Maldonado’s face, right there on the paper. Want to hang it up? We can throw darts at it, huh, whatcha think?” Ricardo caught Quinto’s head under his arm, and knuckled it. Quinto yelped in happy protest. Laughing, Ricardo shoved him away.

Brynna and Rosalie orbited the trio. Brynna actually looked attractive, as a brief animation lit her discontented face. Quinto and Tonio cleared tables out of the way. Dillon watched with detached interest, as though it were a television show. Sorrel’s glance recorded the presence of each of the young men
--
Ricardo, Dillon, Tonio, and Quinto
--
and slid back to Ricardo. Her shoulders tensed. She seemed to be waiting for something.

Ricardo grinned at Mackie. “It’s like coming home again,” he said. Mackie threw a hand into the air. Ricardo grabbed it and swatted her on the shoulder. “Hey lady, you do good work.”

“Did good work with you anyway. This is Jeanie. She replaced Sarah.”

“Good to see you.” Ricardo didn’t offer to shake hands, but his open grin and sharp nod served the same purpose. “How’s my bro doing?”

“Quinto’s doing great,” said Jeanie warmly. “It’s a long way,” she added, “through all five tests, but he’s plugging away at it. One down, four to go.”

“Cool.” Ricardo raised an eyebrow at Quinto. “Which one?”

“Social Studies,” said Quinto proudly. “Executive, Legislative, and Judicial.”

“Right on, way to go. So Mackie, what’s the drill? Haven’t done none of these motivational speeches before. Listened to plenty of them though.” Ricardo glanced around the room, spotted Dillon sitting in his corner, and ambled towards him. He turned a chair backwards and sat down, resting his elbows on the back. Ricardo noted the cell phone in Dillon’s pocket. His gaze dropped to Dillon’s ankle. “House arrest?”

“Nope. Off it, a month ago.”

“Lost your jewelry, huh?” The wry comment referred to the locator bracelet, worn on the ankle, which pinpointed an offender’s location on a twenty-four hour basis. “Congrats,” he said. “Been there, done that. All of it.”

The two regarded each other as the others dragged up chairs. Dillon dropped the headphones on the table, angled his chair towards Ricardo, and sat back, arms crossed over his chest.

Ricardo seemed to withdraw. “The gang was good to me,” he said in a low voice. “Home wasn’t so good. Quinto can tell you if he wants, I won’t. You can guess, usual stuff: Mom on the stuff, no Dad that I could see. But the gang, that was good. I had a place to belong, people to back me up.” His voice dropped further. “Guys I really cared about, you know.” He glanced around, meeting one look after another. “Only, the gang, it’s a dead end.”

Ricardo slipped into a natural cadence, the swing in his speech like Tonio’s, but with higher hills and lower valleys. “You got to get out of there, to have a good life. You don’t got to leave your friends. What you gotta do, you gotta drag ‘em along with you. That’s what I’m trying to do here.” He nodded at Tonio, and cuffed Quinto on the shoulder. “Detention facility is the pits. You know, you’ve been there, right? Prison’s worse. The older you get, the more they shove you into the adult courts. And no matter how much I love my homeboys, I ain’t going to spend the rest of my life in an eight-by-ten cell staring at ‘em. ‘Sides, they don’t stick you with your homeboy, you know what I’m saying?”

Dillon snorted. “That’s the fuckin’ truth,” he said. “Talk to my Dad, he’ll tell you.”

Ricardo nodded. “Once I was in the Dandridge craphouse, like my bro here, I got to thinking it through. I seen it, then. It’s one side or the other. Me, I want a nice car, a nice house, and money enough to go party when I feel like it. I don’t want to be watching the door, keeping my head down, wondering who’s coming through next. Get it? Maldonado, the son-of-a-bitch—”

Quinto let out a laugh and stifled it, with a guilty look at Mackie. Mackie flipped her hand, dismissing it. He relaxed.

“He done a good thing along with all the shit. He hooked me up with Mackie there. Mackie got me a couple jobs, and when I got my GED, she called a buddy or two in retail, and got me in with a national department store. I do promotional stuff, community relations, advertising layout, like that.”

“They’re real happy with him,” Mackie confirmed. “Speaking Spanish, especially. Of course, he had to clean it up first, and drop the cuss words.” Mackie and Ricardo grinned at each other, old friends.

The door swung open, and a burly man put his head through the door, wearing a hesitant smile. He was a homely-looking guy, his coarse black hair sticking out from under a baseball cap. His big, broad face wore the familiar crumple of the outdoorsman, with a sag around the eyes from squinting in sunlight.

Quinto jumped out of his seat, his face alight. “Mr. Rivera! You come to get me? Let me go back to work now! Huh?”

“Hi, Quinto.” Laughter shot through the booming voice. “Hey, who’s that I see?” At Mackie’s welcoming wave, Danny strode into the room, exuding energy.

Ricardo grinned and held out his hand. “Danny Rivera, hey, like old times. Good to see you, bud. Quinto told me you got stuck with him. Still into the mentorship deal, huh?”

Danny Rivera pumped his hand. “I see Mackie pulled in our favorite success story. Quinto tells me you’re hot stuff these days, Ricky.” He glanced at the others, nodding to each. His smile faded a little. “Hey, Dillon, doing okay, are you?” Dillon examined him, cold-faced.

Quinto romped around them, an eager puppy with muddy paws. “So, am I back on the crew? Huh, huh? God, I’m sick of the House, let me come back, okay? I do good there, you know I do, I’m a good worker.”

“You’re a good worker, Quinto. Even Bryce said so.” Danny’s face sagged. “God, what a thing.”

“Mr. Wogan?” said Quinto respectfully. “How’s he doing, huh?”

“Yeah,” said Mackie. “Sit down, Danny, tell us how Bryce is getting along. Ricardo, Bryce Wogan’s the foreman at Danny’s site. He got hurt, pipe bomb left at the site last Saturday. Touch and go, there, for a while, but last I heard, they thought he’d make a comeback.”

“Well, he’s a tough bugger,” Danny said. “If anyone can, he will. It’ll be tough, though. He lost three fingers on his right hand, and his right eye too. Gonna be a lot of scars, mess up his good looks. It could have been a hell of a lot worse. You know pipe bombs, the blast goes every which way. The worst of it went the other way, took a chunk out of the truck. Bryce was damned lucky. Old Bryce, I still can’t believe it. He says he’ll be back on the job, but I don’t know.” Danny looked bleak. Jeanie followed his thought without effort. Construction work with half a hand, and one eye. “He’ll be in rehab for a long time.”

“Rehab?” said Rosalie, frowning. “Like, for drugs?”

“Physical therapy, and like that. He’s got to learn to do stuff all over again, because his hand won’t work right.”

“Oh,” said Rosalie, uncomprehending.

“But you’re still working, right?” said Quinto. “So I can come back!”

“Well, that’s why I came. I’m having a little trouble, going to have to work on the new foreman a little. After the pipe bomb, he’s a little nervous about mentorship.”

“But I wouldn’t. Hurt a guy? I never, you just ask anybody.”

“I know, I know. I been telling him. What I figure is, give me the rest of the week, and then show up Monday, same job site. You stick close to me, buddy, you hear? Don’t give him any grief.”

Quinto nodded energetically. “Like always. He’ll see. Mr. Wogan, he didn’t like me much either, but he seen it, I’m a worker. When I get out, first thing I’m doing is get a job on construction with you.”

“Lotsa jobs around, Quinto,” said Ricardo. “Come up to
Portland
, back home, I’ll get you in at the store. Better job.” He looked at Danny apologetically. “Air conditioning, you know. Besides the kid’s an artist. He could use it in advertising or something.”

“Couldn’t have said it better. There’s lots of opportunities out there for a guy with Quinto’s spunk,” said Danny. He slapped his thighs. “Well, I’ll be getting along now. Just thought I’d drop by. Glad to have caught you, Ricky. Bye Quinto, Dillon. Good-bye, Mackie.” The door thumped closed behind him.

“Well,” said Mackie. “That’s good news, Quinto. Monday, it is! I’ll let Mr. Maldonado know. How about Jeanie and I back off for a bit? We’ve got paperwork and phone calls to catch up on. That okay with you guys?”

Mackie retreated to the office, and Jeanie sat next to the office doorway, in visual range but out of earshot of quiet voices. Mackie dialed Maldonado’s number from memory. Jeanie looked through student essays, keeping half an eye on Brynna and Sorrel. Estelle Torrez, reflected Jeanie, would have had a fit. Who knew what they were arranging between them? Something despicable, naturally.

Sorrel didn’t have much to say, but she was listening. She’d been pale for several days, though it was hard to tell under all the makeup. Stress, probably. Quinto, though, was exuberant, barely able to confine himself to one section of the room.

You couldn’t program emotional growth, just accelerate it a tad, here and there. So many rehabilitative efforts tried to make sows’ ears into silk purses. And what happened, the moment the pressure let up? There’d be a bunch of pigs, running everywhere, tearing up the city, and everyone would be surprised. Jeanie grinned to herself at the foolish analogy.

“Excuse me, er
...
Jeanie?”

Jeanie looked up, startled. Ricardo Cervantes stood next to her, running his hand over his styled black hair.

“Hey, can I talk to you and Mackie for a bit?”

“Of course. Mackie?” She followed Ricardo to the office, and stood in the doorway.

“What’s up, Ricky?” Mackie set down the phone.

Ricardo sat on the desk, one foot cocked up against the table leg. “Well, it’s nothing, really. It’s just, jeez.” He sighed and shrugged. “Look, I wanted to tell you, one of the guys in our old gang, Matt Houston, he got sent up when I did. Only he got sent to the pen.” He jerked his thumb to the east. “He was some older than me, got tried as an adult. He jumped the wall on a work release thing a few months back. Shit, you’d think they’d know he’d run. Work release,” he snorted in disgust. “Anyway, cops called me, checking up on all his homeys, see if he called us. But I haven’t heard from him since we got caught.”