“Chavez, looks like you don’t let grass grow.”
“Ray,” Was Eddie’s reply.
Dad’s eyes moved to Indy and he smiled, then to Lee who’d come up with us. “Fuckin’ A.” He breathed, the smile dying out of his face and he looked almost panicked.
“You’re Lee Nightingale.”
“Yep,” Lee said.
“Fuck,” Dad said.
I found this confusing. I looked from Dad to Lee and opened my mouth to speak when the bel over the front door rang and I heard someone cal my name.
I turned and stared.
It was Oscar, my latest ex. We’d broken up about a month before Mom’s stroke. Before that, we’d been together for two years. The break up was by mutual consent (mutual in the sense that I talked Oscar into it) and we’d stayed friends. He helped move Mom and me into our new apartment. He was a good guy and, sometimes, I missed him.
Oscar was about two inches tal er than me, had warm, brown eyes, fantastic, thick, dark hair and some acne scars which, lucky for him, only served to make him look more interesting.
I turned to him as he walked to us. He looked upset.
This was not good. Oscar had a short fuse which, upset, could quickly grow into something much harder to control.
“Oscar! What are you doing here?”
“Your Mom cal ed, said some ass**le cal ed you a racist. Mamita what is that shit al about? I wanna have a word with him. Who is this f**kwad?”
What did I tel you?
My mother.
I wanted to run screaming out of the store but my belt loop was pul ed again and again my shoulder came into contact with Eddie’s chest, this time, it stayed there.
“I think I’m the f**kwad,” Eddie said.
Oscar’s eyes moved to Eddie and he saw the way we were standing. I think he misinterpreted it because his temper flared directly to the red zone.
“Get your f**kin’ hands off her!” Oscar shouted and everyone (and there were a lot of people) turned to look.
“Calm down, amigo, we’ve straightened things out,” Eddie replied.
“Oscar, it’s okay,” I said.
Oscar wasn’t listening.
“You don’t cal my woman a racist and then straighten things out. And I thought I told you to get your hands off her.”
I forgot to mention, Oscar also had a possessiveness issue. It was one of the reasons we broke up. Not to mention, his confronting Eddie was stupid, anyone could see by looking at the two of them that Eddie could wipe the floor with him. Eddie was tal er, leaner and had about a half an ounce of body fat, which was clear to see from the skintight white t-shirt he was wearing.
“Your woman?” Eddie asked, his body tensing. He looked down at me. “You seein’ this guy?”
“We broke up,” I said.
“When?” Eddie asked.
“Nine months ago.”
Eddie smiled for the first time that morning and the dimple came out. He turned back to Oscar. “I’d say she wasn’t your woman anymore.”