“Do I know you?”
I lick at my dry lips, maintaining eye contact with him even when he puffs up his chest in an act of intimidation. His eyes dart from me back to Alex and back again, and I see the moment he realizes who I am and exactly who Alex is to me. The guy never missed a beat when we were younger, and it surprises me it took him this long.
“Ignacio Torres,” he says, a cautious smile tugging up both corners of his mouth. “How have you been, man?”
He comes in for one of those bro hugs I just witnessed my son do, including the rough slap on the back, and I let it happen. As much as it pains me to stand here and speak with this man in front of my son, disrespecting him would only cause more harm than good.
“I’m good, Cedric. Just visiting the old neighborhood. You know how it is.”
“I do,” he agrees, his eyes darting back down to Alex. “What have you been up to?”
I know at this point I could lie. I could tell this man that I found bigger and better things, hinting at my importance in some other town and making it seem like I never got out of the game, but that would be foolish. I also see this as an opportunity to tell Alex a little about myself without forcing him to hear it.
Cedric continues to look at Alex, and I pray the man is evaluating his position in his organization, taking into account my disappointment in my son ending up right where I started.
“You’ve been gone what, twelve, thirteen years?”
“About that long. Spent eight years in the Army. I’m now working for a company in St. Louis.”
“Same old business?” Are you still wheeling and dealing?
“Naw, man. I’m straight. I was a cryptologic linguistic, and that helped me land a job with a security firm.”
“Crypto-what?” Cedric’s confusion draws his attention back to me, and I’m grateful he’s no longer focused on Alex.
“Languages, man. I speak quite a few. I can tell you to fuck off like thirty different ways.” My meaning is clear, and I can see it in his eyes when he understands.
“Cool, cool.”
His right hand runs down the stubble on his jaw, and I wait for his true response. It’s the left hand I keep my eyes on, knowing from our history that the man is left-handed. If he was planning to pull a gun on me that would be the one he’d use. The .38 tucked inside the holster at my waist seems to warm against my skin as time ticks by.
“Sounds like you made something of yourself. Getting out is hard, nearly impossible.” Another warning from my old friend. His eyes dart back to Alex who is watching both of us very cautiously, unsure of how he needs to behave.
“Not impossible when getting out is the only option.” My son is done with this shit, and I won’t let it continue.
He nods in understanding.
“I see. Well, I just swung by to check in. Make sure everything is okay. I can settle up with Alex later.”
“You should do it now.” I do my best to keep the growl from my throat, but some of the irritation slips through.
“Naw, man. I have other places to be. See you soon, kid.” With that parting threat, Cedric walks away.
His SUV slowly rolls out of the lot before disappearing around the corner, and it makes my blood run cold. Cedric Ramirez was always calm and calculating, a brutal force to face when he set his mind to something. This situation won’t be any different. He’s trouble that isn’t going away anytime soon.
“So, I guess Mom didn’t lie about everything,” Alex says a few moments later. “You were a drug dealer and a gangbanger.”
I take a moment to formulate my answer but decide that the truth is better than another lie told to this kid.
“I made choices I felt like I had to, to survive around here. Getting away from here was hard, but it’s possible.”
He grunts instead of asking more questions and he doesn’t speak again in the hours we stand out in front of the store. When the sun starts to go down, I ask if I can give him a ride home, but he refuses. At dusk, he gives up and turns back in the direction of his house, and although I keep my distance, I follow him all the way back until I see him disappear through his front door.
I don’t know that any progress was made today, but I’m one determined motherfucker. After giving up on my relationship with Tinley, I haven’t given up on much of anything else, and my son will never be one of them.
But as I drive back to my own shitty house, I can’t figure out a way to convince him to be better when he won’t even talk to me. Fuck, do I have my work cut out for me.