drugs were being dealt in your neighborhood?”
I rubbed my jaw. “Depends if it was bothersome.”
“What if it was?”
“In that case I’d decide whether to call the police or discourage them myself.”
“Why?” Cody said. “Do you have a problem where you live?”
“No, we don’t,” Juan said before Teresa could respond. “Can we work on my assignment?”
• • •
When Juan and Teresa drove away a half hour later, Cody told me she worked as a cocktail waitress at Pistol Pete’s.
“We talked when we went to look at the meadow. She’s working tonight. Why don’t we drop by and say hello?”
“She’s got to be fifteen years younger than you,” I said.
“So? Your last broad, uh…” He snapped his fingers a few times.
“Beverly.”
“Right. How old was she? Twenty-one?”
“Look, Cody. These people came from one of the poorest areas of southern Mexico. If not for their parents sacrificing everything they had to send them here, they’d probably be dying of malnutrition somewhere, or worse.”
“Where’d you hear this?”
“The owner of the restaurant where Juan works told me. He hired Juan out of charity, and says the kid is the hardest worker he’s ever seen.”
“Their English is almost perfect.”
“Juan said his parents made them study it every day.”
“I see.”
“I don’t think he was very happy with you talking to her,” I said.
“Yeah, I saw the looks he was giving me. But he’s gonna have a tough time keeping the horn dogs away from her.”
“Are you speaking for yourself?”
“Now, come on, Dan. I’ve got no dishonorable intentions here. What’s wrong with being friendly? Besides, she told me about a gang of Mexicans selling dope and basically bringing down the standard of living at her apartment complex. I was thinking you and me might take a spin over there and piss in their punch bowl.”
“What? I can’t think of anything I’d rather do less. What do you expect to accomplish?”
“From what Teresa says, these guys sit out in the apartment’s common area, getting shitfaced, throwing knives at trees, intimidating the tenants, and claiming the area as their own.”
“Sounds like someone should call the cops.”
“Apparently someone did. One of the gangbangers got busted a couple days ago, but the others are still there as if nothing happened.”
I stacked the papers Juan had left me. “I’ve already got one fine group of citizens on my ass, Cody. Isn’t that enough?
“Hey, I just want to persuade them to tone it down a bit. What harm can come of that?”
I walked inside, hoping he could answer that on his own.
• • •
Later that afternoon, we parked on the street outside the apartment complex where Juan and Teresa Perez lived. Graffiti covered the walls and derelict vehicles lined the street, but flowers hung from the balconies and the sidewalks were chalked with hopscotch games. Two women pushing baby carriages stood chatting on the corner.
We knocked on the door to the Perez’s unit. Teresa opened it in her cocktail waitress outfit, a short, frilly skirt beneath a low-cut top showing ample cleavage. I didn’t see Juan anywhere. I said hello and averted my gaze.
“
Hola
, Teresa, you look lovely, absolutely gorgeous,” Cody said, staring at her breasts as if his eyes could spring them free of her blouse.
The apartment was clean and looked well organized. The old kitchen table was scratched and marred but polished to a shine, and I could see where a tear in the sofa had been mended with needle and thread.
“They are here,” Teresa said without preamble. She pulled back the curtain over the sliding glass door, and we looked out at the common area. A group of Latino men in red bandanas sat at a picnic table on the edge of the grass, heckling an elderly couple who were hobbling by. The old folks hunched over their walkers, doing their best to ignore the taunts. A minute later two longhaired white dudes approached the table
I rubbed my jaw. “Depends if it was bothersome.”
“What if it was?”
“In that case I’d decide whether to call the police or discourage them myself.”
“Why?” Cody said. “Do you have a problem where you live?”
“No, we don’t,” Juan said before Teresa could respond. “Can we work on my assignment?”
• • •
When Juan and Teresa drove away a half hour later, Cody told me she worked as a cocktail waitress at Pistol Pete’s.
“We talked when we went to look at the meadow. She’s working tonight. Why don’t we drop by and say hello?”
“She’s got to be fifteen years younger than you,” I said.
“So? Your last broad, uh…” He snapped his fingers a few times.
“Beverly.”
“Right. How old was she? Twenty-one?”
“Look, Cody. These people came from one of the poorest areas of southern Mexico. If not for their parents sacrificing everything they had to send them here, they’d probably be dying of malnutrition somewhere, or worse.”
“Where’d you hear this?”
“The owner of the restaurant where Juan works told me. He hired Juan out of charity, and says the kid is the hardest worker he’s ever seen.”
“Their English is almost perfect.”
“Juan said his parents made them study it every day.”
“I see.”
“I don’t think he was very happy with you talking to her,” I said.
“Yeah, I saw the looks he was giving me. But he’s gonna have a tough time keeping the horn dogs away from her.”
“Are you speaking for yourself?”
“Now, come on, Dan. I’ve got no dishonorable intentions here. What’s wrong with being friendly? Besides, she told me about a gang of Mexicans selling dope and basically bringing down the standard of living at her apartment complex. I was thinking you and me might take a spin over there and piss in their punch bowl.”
“What? I can’t think of anything I’d rather do less. What do you expect to accomplish?”
“From what Teresa says, these guys sit out in the apartment’s common area, getting shitfaced, throwing knives at trees, intimidating the tenants, and claiming the area as their own.”
“Sounds like someone should call the cops.”
“Apparently someone did. One of the gangbangers got busted a couple days ago, but the others are still there as if nothing happened.”
I stacked the papers Juan had left me. “I’ve already got one fine group of citizens on my ass, Cody. Isn’t that enough?
“Hey, I just want to persuade them to tone it down a bit. What harm can come of that?”
I walked inside, hoping he could answer that on his own.
• • •
Later that afternoon, we parked on the street outside the apartment complex where Juan and Teresa Perez lived. Graffiti covered the walls and derelict vehicles lined the street, but flowers hung from the balconies and the sidewalks were chalked with hopscotch games. Two women pushing baby carriages stood chatting on the corner.
We knocked on the door to the Perez’s unit. Teresa opened it in her cocktail waitress outfit, a short, frilly skirt beneath a low-cut top showing ample cleavage. I didn’t see Juan anywhere. I said hello and averted my gaze.
“
Hola
, Teresa, you look lovely, absolutely gorgeous,” Cody said, staring at her breasts as if his eyes could spring them free of her blouse.
The apartment was clean and looked well organized. The old kitchen table was scratched and marred but polished to a shine, and I could see where a tear in the sofa had been mended with needle and thread.
“They are here,” Teresa said without preamble. She pulled back the curtain over the sliding glass door, and we looked out at the common area. A group of Latino men in red bandanas sat at a picnic table on the edge of the grass, heckling an elderly couple who were hobbling by. The old folks hunched over their walkers, doing their best to ignore the taunts. A minute later two longhaired white dudes approached the table
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