Forever My Lady Page 3

  He was an emotional wreck because his mom had just kicked him out once again. She was pissed because he had gotten arrested for beating up a couple of punks. Didn’t she understand? She would have done the same thing in the same situation.

  By then he just wanted to get out of Vegas completely. He knew Jennifer was right. He’d been part of the Paisas gang sect since he was thirteen. They were his boys and practically the only real family he had besides Jennifer. As soon as he got jumped in the gang, Spooky had taken him under his wing when nobody else would. But he had to get out of the gang if he and Jennifer were to have any type of normal life together. She told him that over and over again and he knew it. But this time, he was going to do something about it. He had convinced her to give up everything she had going for herself, even her repaired relationship with her familia, to run off with him to L.A. where they could both start over. She didn’t want to, Dio knew that, but she loved him enough to do it anyway if it meant they could be together.

  He knew how troubled she was that night, so quiet. He knew she was thinking about all that she was leaving behind, even the new gig she had just got at the Palms Hotel as a backup singer. She loved him that much. And he promised her that things would get better once they moved to L.A. They were just minutes from the state line when it happened. Those damned potholes. With a city as rich as Las Vegas, it was amazing that they even had potholes in their roads. If only they hadn’t gotten that flat tire. If only they hadn’t gotten out to fix it.

  Sometimes Dio wondered if God was teasing him or something. Like God would toy with him, give him something nice, like a piece of yarn to a kitten, then snatch it away just when he thought he had something good. Couldn’t he ever have something as good as Jennifer? Didn’t God know Dio was going to turn his life around that night? He was going to leave all his homies, la vida loca, behind. He was going to start over again. Didn’t God see that?

  Dio shook his head, tried to get that awful night out of his mind. He got down on his knees and said a prayer, just like his mom had taught him to do every night since he was little. Then he crossed himself and hopped back into bed. His mind trailed off, about to slumber off when it began . . . the whimpering. It started out just as whimpering, then crying, then sobbing, loud sobbing. Dio tossed and turned.

  “Shut up!” the trainees yelled.

  It was Simon, that nerdy kid, crying up a storm. It was the second night in a row and Dio was ready to kill him.

  What the hell was he crying about? Dio wondered.

  He went on like that for hours, all night long. And just as they finally got some sleep, Senior Jackson was in their face screaming at the top of his lungs, “Rise and shine, Radigez! There’s work to be done!”

  Dio always hated gym class. Sure, he loved sports. Or at least he pretended to. Isn’t that what all guys were supposed to love? Sports? He cared more about hanging with his homies and drinking than the actual game. And now it was like he was stuck in never-ending gym hell. Every morning they did one hundred pushups, two hundred sit-ups, at least two miles of running, and whatever else Jackson could think up. And that was before their breakfast, or “chow,” as Jackson called it.

  Then they’d begin their daily chores. That day Jackson decided to subject them to cleaning the whole inside of the main building—the walls, the ceilings, the floors, the cracks, and the corners—all with a toothbrush.

  “I want to see myself in the reflection,” he said.

  They started working at eight in the morning and didn’t finish until about 3:00 PM. Dio’s shoulders were aching. His knees were raw from scrubbing the floor and his neck was throbbing from being hunched over for so long. His whole body ached, but his mind was on Jennifer.

  They were just about to finish up when Senior Jackson came around for a checkup. He whistled as he checked every nook and cranny he could find for dirt.

  He walked past Dio, who pulled the pail of dirty water closer to him so Jackson could walk by. Everyone froze as he walked by, but then he stopped right beside Dio. He smelled the air, looking every which way. Everything looked as clean as could be.

  Jackson was about to step away when Dio cleared his throat.

  “Um, sir, Trainee Rodríguez requests permission to speak, sir,” Dio said.

  “What?”

  “Sir, Trainee Rodríguez was wondering if he could . . . use the phone for just a minute or two, sir.”

  A laugh came from Jackson’s belly and made its way up through his mouth.

  “You are asking me for a favor, Radigez? You are asking me for a favor?” Jackson chuckled some more, making Dio feel like complete shit. “What’s the sixth general rule, Radigez?”

  “Sir, the sixth general rule is to, um . . . trainees must earn their privileges. But, sir, I’m . . . Trainee Rodríguez is trying to find out if my . . . his girlfriend is okay, sir. She . . . Trainee Rodríguez don’t know if she made it out of the hospital—” His voice cracked with emotion.

  “No!” Jackson belted out. “You want phone privileges, you gotta earn them.”

  “But, sir—”

  Jackson kicked the dirty pail over and down the hall. He even splashed it on the walls.

  “I said I wanted it clean, Radigez. Everyone do it over—all of it. You fuck up one more time, Radigez, and it’s on you and you alone. Nobody’s getting in trouble ’cept you.”

  And with that he walked off, mumbling something about if he let Dio use the phone, he’d have to let everyone else. Everyone groaned until one of the junior officers told them to shut their holes.

  Dio could feel the haters on the back of his neck. They didn’t dare say anything, or the junior officers might do something about it. But it was as if Dio could read their minds. They weren’t happy and it was all his fault.

  Jackson had a vendetta against him and it seemed he was determined to make his life a living hell, worse than it was already.

  Didn’t he care about anyone? There had to be a heart somewhere deep inside him. Even he had to show some kind of compassion.

  Dio felt like he was going to go crazy until Grossaint crawled up next to him, careful the junior officers didn’t spot him.

  “He’s a jerk,” Grossaint consoled.

  It had to be the first time Grossaint had ever said anything to him and Dio didn’t know what to make of it.

  “We should be able to use the phone any time we want,” he continued.

  Was Grossaint actually trying to make friends? Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t as bad a guy as Dio had thought.

  “Simón,” Dio whispered. “It’s inhumane, that’s what it is.”

  “No kidding. What? You gotta call your girl or something?”

  “Yeah, man. I think she’s still in the hospital. I don’t know.”

  Grossaint nodded toward Jackson’s office. The door was slightly open. “You oughta just go in there and use the phone.”

  “No way, man.”

  “No, I’m serious. We got your back.” Grossaint eyed the junior officers, stepping away from their presence. “Go now before they get back.”

  Grossaint was right. If he was going to do it at all, now was the time. And even if he did get caught, how bad could it be, anyway? He’d just make them do more pushups or something. It was worth the risk. Jennifer was worth every bit of freedom he had left. Besides, he’d just be making a quick phone call anyway.

  Dio nodded, checked to make sure the officers still weren’t there, and stepped up to the door. Grossaint gave him a reassuring nod as he snuck into Jackson’s office.

  His heart was pounding a million times a second. He scanned the office for the nearest phone, but the desk had mountains of paperwork and files everywhere. For someone who insisted they have neat and tidy quarters at all times, Jackson’s place looked like a pigsty. Dio ducked below his desk and fished for the phone. Just pictures of what looked to be Jackson and his son, the sports page, an empty box of nicotine patches, and . . . then he found it, the phone, underneath some folder
s.

  He grabbed the phone and yanked it under the desk with him. He checked for another reassuring nod from Grossaint that the coast was clear and began to dial. Busy signal. He had to dial a 9 to get out, so he did.

  “Four-one-one.”

  “Clark County Hospital,” Dio whispered.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I cannot understand you,” the operator said.

  Dio repeated himself more sternly. “Clark County Hospital. Hurry up.”

  Dio dialed 1 to get it to directly connect. His heart was in his throat by this time. He just needed to know, to hear her voice, to know she was still alive. If anything happened to her, Dio would never forgive himself. She’d been by his side ever since he was a teenager. She’d been loyal even when her parents did whatever they could to pry them apart. She stuck up for him and always had his back, a lot more than most of his homies ever did, even Spooky. Dio knew that Spooky was like a big brother to him, but if it ever came down to the wire and it was between his life and Spooky’s, Spooky would save himself first. But Jennifer, she’d take a bullet for him.

  “Hello?” the voice answered.

  Dio snapped out of his daydream.“ Yeah. You got a patient named Jennifer Sánchez there?”

  “One moment.”

  Seconds felt like hours, his throat was dry, his breath labored.

  Please, please, God. Please let her be okay. Please let her be okay.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Sánchez—” the receptionist began.

  Dio’s heart dropped.

  “Oh, wait a minute. I’m sorry. That was a different patient. Yeah. Please hold.”

  What’s that supposed to mean? Dio wondered.

  The phone rang again and Dio checked to make sure no one was looking. He couldn’t see Grossaint, but guessed everything was okay.

  Some guy answered the phone. “Hello?”

  “Yeah, Jennifer there?”

  “Who is this?” the guy asked.

  “Who is this?” Dio insisted.

  “Oh, I’m . . . hold on.”

  It must have been some male nurse or Jennifer’s relative or something. Dio let it go from his mind. A bunch of rustling noises and muffled speaking voices was all Dio heard. Then it came, her voice dry, weak, and quiet.

  “Hello?”

  Dio was like a little kid again, talking faster than his mind could keep up with.

  “Jennifer, baby. You’re all right. Oh, my God. I’ve been so worried about you. I wanted to reach you, but I’m in this camp, this prison camp, and they don’t let me do nothin’. And all I’ve been thinking about while I’ve been here is you. And I’ve been praying, Jennifer. I’ve been praying every night since I last saw you that you’d be all right. Baby, I miss you so bad. Are you okay?”

  She didn’t answer right away, which only made Dio more worried. “I’m . . . I’m okay. Got shot six times.”

  “I know, baby, I know.”

  “I’ll be in here for a while.”

  “How long?”

  “At least another three weeks, they say.”

  “Baby, you stay strong, okay? Any moment I get to call you I’m going to. I’m not supposed to be using the phone right now, but I needed to hear your voice. Baby, if I could be near you right now . . . I wanna hold you and kiss you and make sure you’re all right. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Dio—”

  “Baby, you know I’m so sorry about everything that happened. You saw I tried to take the bullet for you. Didn’t you? You know I wasn’t about to let those putos get to you, right? You know it’s not my fault, right?”

  Again she didn’t answer for a long time. It was like it was painful just for her to think.

  “Dio, we need to talk,” she said, her raspy voice slow and faint.

  “Baby, you shouldn’t talk now. You need to rest. I won’t keep you on the phone. I just needed to hear your voice. And now that I know that you’re all right—”

  “Dio!” she said sternly. Her tone shocked him.

  “What’s wrong, baby?”

  She paused for a while and Dio wondered what was going on in that room that was causing her not to answer him right away.

  “You know I care for you, don’t you?” she asked.

  “Of course. You care for me. And I care for you, baby. You know that.”

  “Dio, we’ll always have a connection. I told you that before, but . . . you gotta get some help.”

  “What do you mean? Baby, I’m straightening things out. You’ll see.”

  “Dio. You and me—it’s . . . I’m sorry, but it’s over.”

  Dio couldn’t speak at first

  “Dio? Dio? You there?”

  “It’s just your medication talking right now,” he finally said. “You should rest.”

  “No. It’s not my medication, Dio. It’s—”

  “What? What are you saying, baby?”

  She was crying now. “I’m sorry, but I can’t live like this anymore, Dio. My familia is right. I can do better. I’ve got to do better for myself.”

  “Baby, we’re soul mates. You can’t just . . . I need you. Don’t you see? The whole reason I’m even in camp right now is ’cause of you. You can’t betray me like this.”

  “Dio, I’m not betraying you. Don’t try to twist it like that. Just try to understand. ’Kay? I . . . I got to go now. Just please understand.”

  Click. Nothing but dial tone permeated the air. Dio was in a state of shock. Now, for the first time in his life, he felt like his whole world had shattered completely, like he didn’t have a friend in the world. He was alone. He was actually alone. Not even God wanted him, it seemed. Dio’s nose pinched. He could feel the tears starting to well up.

  It was impossible. He must be dreaming. He had to be. Jennifer would never give up on him, not his baby. She’d been there for him always. There was no way she’s just drop him like a . . .

  “What the hell are you doing in my office?” Jackson hollered.

  Before Dio could get out of the way, Jackson had him by the collar and lifted him out the door and down the hall so fast Dio didn’t know what hit him. He looked back at Grossaint, who had a crafty smile curved up on his face.

  Chapter Two

  DIO SPENT THE NEXT FOUR DAYS IN A PRISON CELL, NOT knowing what was going to happen to him. He’d never been in an adult prison before, let alone in what they called the “hole.” It was solitary confinement, as dark as night, and for Dio, someone who had memories of being locked in a toy box by his mother whenever he was “bad,” it was claustrophobic hell. He’d never seen his mother do it to his little brother, Daniel, but he feared what went on when he was not around.

  No matter how much water they brought him in the hole, Dio was dying of thirst. More than anything, he was dying inside. He felt dead. At the very least, he felt like he wanted to be dead. His baby had left him. His baby had left him alone and he felt empty inside. He felt the kind of hurt you feel when you can’t feel anymore. He felt numb.

  He couldn’t fathom living without Jennifer.

  She was probably just being manipulated by her family. That had to be it. They probably forced her to break up with him, or got her when she was low and not completely herself and fed thoughts inside her head.

  His pride said, “Just fuck her. You can pick up some other bitch.” But the truth was that he didn’t want anybody else. Only she completed him, like no other. Living without her was like living without a piece of his soul; it was inconceivable.

  He felt stupid for falling for Groissaint’s trap. He should have seen it coming. Dio considered himself very street-wise, but he must have been blinded by his thoughts of Jennifer. All he knew was Groissaint was going to regret what he did to him.

  He may not get it right away, but he’s going to get it, Dio thought.

  After all, “They hit you; you gotta hit ’em worse,” Spooky used to always say. And he was right.

  “For Christ’s sakes!” Louise blurted out.

  She wore the pants in the
boot camp kitchen. If anyone ran the place, she did, and the last thing she wanted was another trainee to baby-sit. She shook her head at Dio as she rested her hands on her hips. She looked like she had just walked away from working at Wal-Mart or something. Not that anything was wrong with that. After all, Dio’s mom had worked at Wal-Mart for a while. But it was true though, she was scary: trailer-trash-looking, stringy, badly permed hair, no makeup, a pruned-up, wrinkled face, and hardly any front teeth.

  “I can’t believe this,” she added. “God dammit. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. Well, I guess we better find you something to do.”

  She threw up her hands and led Dio out of the mess hall and into the back of the kitchen. There were already a bunch of workers cleaning every which corner, busier than bees.

  “I keep telling that man I got shit to do, and he keeps sending me more.”

  She led Dio to a mountain of dishes bigger than Dio had ever seen before.

  “Well, get at it,” she demanded. “Lunch prep will be coming in an hour and you gotta get it all done by then.”

  Dio sighed. On one hand, he was just glad to be out of the hole. On the other hand, the last thing he wanted to do was more work—not this kind of work, of all things. He’d promised himself he’d never turn out like his father. His father was a janitor for years before he died. He’d come home drenched in dirty water, smelling like shit, and Dio was ashamed of him. He was a smart man, a very smart man at that, and a good father, but Dio hated seeing someone like him cleaning up after people. Other kids in school had dads who were lawyers and doctors and executives and things. Why’d mine have to be a janitor?

  There had to be an easier way; Dio knew it. His mom was no different. No matter how bad his mother treated him when he was little, no matter how drunk she’d been most of the time, he hated to see her suffer. He hated to see her work two or three jobs just to keep him and his little brother alive. And it was all for nothing anyway, because taxes would take half of it, and what was left hardly went to food at all—it went to bills and shit. She refused to get on welfare and refused to accept food stamps.