'His mom and dad know you're coming?'
'Yeah, it's all set.'
Shane carried his own breakfast to the table and sat down. He could tell the boy was uncomfortable, and when Chooch finally spoke, the reason became clear.
'You really gonna try and get in touch with Amac?' Chooch was looking at his plate.
Shane laid down his fork and tried to engage his son's eyes across the small table. 'I already called. Talked to him last night.' He didn't think it was smart to tell Chooch he'd also gone to see him.
'How is he?' Chooch looked up.
Shane took a minute to decide how much he wanted to say. Chooch was seventeen, striving for adulthood. Shane had always preached that adults get to make their own choices, but must also take full responsibility for the consequences of their actions. However, in this case, Shane worried that Chooch's sense of loyalty might overcome his good judgment. 'He's not the same guy he used to be.'
'Yeah? How so?' There was a hint of a challenge now.
'Amac did us a big favor two years ago. He was the right guy at the right time, but nothing stays the same. You know that, everybody moves on.'
'What's that suppose to mean?'
'Amac is running all La Eme sets in East L. A. He's an Inca now. I think he's at war with the black gangs in South Central both Crips and Bloods. It's a free-for-all. A lot of guys are going to die… Amac may be one of them.'
'That pretty much sucks,' Chooch said.
'Right, I know it does, but that's the way it is. There's nothing I can do about it.'
'Dad, you're a cop. You could do something if you wanted. You could protect him. You could even arrest him if you had to… find a way to get him out of it somehow, so he doesn't lose his honor.'
'If I could catch him, and I had a charge that would stick, maybe. But he's gone to ground. He's got his Sevens guarding him. He's not gonna be easy to find.' Shane knew Amac wouldn't stay at Paradise Square. In a war, he'd keep moving.
Chooch sat in silence, then put down his fork and stopped eating his eggs. 'Y'know, Dad, when I was with him before, back when Sandy was still alive, Amac and I got really close.' Chooch always referred to his mother as Sandy. Her death came in a heroic bid that saved his life but had not erased the pain of that long, failed relationship. 'Back when I was still gaffeling on the street, Amac came to me and said, `Vatito, I need you to do something.' ' Chooch stopped, searching for the right words. 'Back then he was the only person in my life who cared what happened to me. Anything he wanted, I would do.'
Shane nodded.
'So I got in his car and we drove to Chavez Boulevard, out past Francis Park, and I asked him, 'Where are we going?' He said it was a la brava. You know what that is?'
Shane shook his head.
'It's like something you do, whether you want to or not. Kinda like a duty, but with a sort of upside, too. Y'know?'
Shane nodded.
'He takes me to the New Calvary Cemetery out on Third, and there's like ten other peewee vatitos, all from different sets of the Surenos. They were waiting there for Amac; all of them between twelve and fifteen, standing in the parking lot dressed in our gang blue. Even though I never met these vatos before, we were carnales, you know, brothers. Anyway, we all go upstairs in the mortuary there, to this room where they have the caskets on display. Then all the peewees, they start moving around, while this old man in a black suit is watching us like we're about to steal something. I'm standing there thinking, what is this? Did someone die and we gotta pick out his casket? Then I finally begin to realize that all these guys are selecting their own coffins. They're running their hands over the polished mahogany, saying, 'Hey, ese, lookit dis one.' ' Chooch, now imitating a cholo accent. ' 'Que maravilla. Gotta fine satin pillow. You gonna be con safos in dis one, homes.'
'So I asked Amac, why are they doing this? It seemed so sad to me, but they were all smiling. Amac said they were happy because their funerals would be huge celebrations… tributes to their ganas. They would be laid out in their expensive new mahogany coffins, and all of the Surenos would come to celebrate their lives and their bravery. The Emes would be at the funeral all fronted out. They would look down at the beautiful casket and say, 'This ese was rifa, the best.' And then Amac said to me what he always says: 'Asi es, asi sera.' '
There was a long silence while they sat across from each other, both thinking about the P. G.'s buying caskets at the New Calvary Cemetery.
'Then Amac asked me to pick out a coffin. He said he was prepaying for them and the grave sites out of the Eighteenth Street Surenos' war chest. I told him I didn't want to buy a casket, that I didn't want to die. And you know what he said?'
'No.'
He said, 'You're already dead, homes. You were dead the day you were born. We just been waiting for the right day to bury you.'
'So what happened?' Shane asked.
'I picked out a casket and a grave site. Amac paid for it. My casket is a big mahogany job with chrome rails, called a Heaven Rider. Don't ya love it? A Heaven Rider… like it's a damn chariot gonna take me to the Promised Land. They're holding it at New Calvary Cemetery until my blessed day.'
'Why're you telling me this?' Shane asked.
'Because Amac thinks he's a dead man, too, Dad. He always has. So do all the others. They all have their caskets, their burial plots-everything prepaid. Now all they got left to do is fill the hole in the ground. They're all dreaming about their funerals with veteranos praising their bravery in death. It's like the most hopeless thing I ever saw.'
'And how do I change that?' Shane asked, marveling at the depth of Chooch's realizations.
'You gotta stop this war from happening, Dad. You gotta save him, 'cause he can't save himself.'
They sat there for a long moment while that impossible mission hung before Shane.
Suddenly, Chooch got up and grabbed his book bag. 'Gotta go or I'm gonna get a late slip.' He walked out of the kitchen, pausing at the door and turning back. 'I love you, Dad.'
'I love you, too,' Shane answered.
When his son was gone, Shane felt strange. It was almost as if Chooch had been saying good-bye. Then he heard his son's Jeep Cherokee start up, pull out of the drive, and power away.
Shane washed off their breakfast plates, then got Alexa's backup gun and holster, a Smith amp; Wesson.38 round wheel. He locked the back door, climbed into the Acura, and pulled out of the garage onto the 405 Freeway North. He transitioned to the Santa Monica Freeway, then headed toward Malibu.
He was still bummed by his breakfast conversation. It carried a sense of impending disaster. As he drove, he told himself to calm down. He was no psychic; he was over-dramatizing.
It was another crisp day, with cold northern winds blowing the smog out to sea, freshening the air. But as he wound his way up the coast, Shane kept picturing the roomful of teenagers selecting caskets. He knew that the gang experience in L. A. was a death sentence, and that all the young men who wore La Eme colors knew they were probably signing up for a short, violent ride. And now Chooch had his own mahogany Heaven Rider in storage, waiting for that day when he would fill it-a frightening thought.
Then he was in Malibu pulling up to the Colony guard gate. This time he had his police creds, so he didn't intend to take any guff from the old man who demanded his name and the name of the resident he was there to visit.
'This is a police matter,' Shane said crisply as he flashed his badge. 'Open the gate, please.'
The guard complied and Shane pulled through, thinking it was great to have his tin back. He drove up to Farrell Champion's French Tudor and parked so that he was within sight of the garage. Then he waited.
At a little past ten, Farrell Champion pulled his black Testarossa out. He gunned the quarter-of-a-million- dollar Ferrari once, then zoomed off without a look back in Shane's direction.
Shane got out of the Acura, walked across the street, and rang Farrell's bell. A few minutes later, the door was opened by Nora Bishop, wearing a robe and carrying a cup of coffee. Her dark hair was still wet, but she looked happy to see him.
