Serena laughed, unoffended. “Her family is undocumented, and so are a lot of the people they know. They’re scared to cross the border and try to come back.”
“They can’t put her on a bus?”
“She’s not just crossing the border into Tijuana,” Serena said.
“Oh, yeah? How’d that happen?”
“She’s really religious,” Serena said. “She used to want to be a nun, until she was thirteen years old.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “Then she discovered boys.”
“She discovered a boy,” Serena said. “Johnny Cedillo, his name was. He was Dominican and part black, and her parents were kinda worked up about that until they saw how serious he was about her. He was talking about marrying her from high school on, gave her a ring, like, what do they call it? Not a real engagement ring, but-”
“A promise ring.” Some of the more sincere kids in my high-school class had done that.
“Yeah, a promise ring. They were real serious about each other. Nobody doubted they were really gonna get married and have beautiful little kids.”
“So what went wrong?” I said. “Where’s Johnny now? Did he go to Vegas, get a little on the side, and Nidia found out about it?”
“No,” she said. “He was totally into her, and since she was making him wait for their wedding night, as far as anyone knows, Johnny Cedillo died a virgin.”
“He’s dead?”
“Johnny didn’t go to Vegas. He went to Iraq.”
“Ah, shit.”
We were quiet a second, then Serena said, “The other problem with her traveling alone is that apparently this girl’s beautiful, a real knockout. In her neighborhood, even after Johnny went away to war, no one bothered her. It got around that she was saving herself for her wedding night with him, and even the
“Wait, back up,” I interrupted. “You’re talking about this girl like you know her, but you said ‘apparently’ she’s beautiful. What’s up?”
“I don’t know her personally,” she said. “But you remember Teaser?”
“Sure.” Teaser was Serena’s lieutenant, her most trusted among the sucias.
“She’s dead,” Serena said.
“Sorry,” I said. I didn’t have to ask how. Another name for Serena’s roll call in tattoo ink.
She went on: “Teaser was her cousin. They didn’t live in my neighborhood, Nidia and Johnny, so I never met either of them,” Serena explained. “But I guess they were pretty well known around their neighborhood. People looked up to Johnny; he was an athlete in high school and never got ganged-up, but he was a stand-up guy with his friends, not a squeaky-clean teacher’s pet type. That whole trip. Teaser would ask me why guys like that don’t go for girls like us, and I’d tell her, Because we’re girls like us, that’s why. She also said that people liked Nidia a little more because of him.”
“Liked her more than what?”
“Well, she’s pretty religious, didn’t go out or party. Not the sort of girl you’d expect people like us to like,” Serena said.
Then she realized she was getting off point. “Anyway, I got a phone call from Teaser’s sister, Lara Cortez, about Nidia needing to get to Mexico and asked if I could help. So I called Nidia’s family to talk about it, and I mentioned you. I told them that you could handle yourself and look out for Nidia.”
“You can handle yourself, too,” I pointed out, “and you’re someone they’d trust, a Mexican. Why not you?”
“I don’t have a passport,” Serena said. “They changed the rules about the border, remember? It takes weeks to get one, and the family doesn’t want to wait that long.” Then, in a lighter tone, she said, “Besides, you know what
“Yeah,” I agreed, “those cars won’t steal themselves.”
“I don’t do that small-time shit anymore, you know that,” she said.
“Yeah, I know,” I said.
“And, I should’ve said right up front, you’d get paid. Her family’s sending some money to cover the expenses, but if it’s not enough, I’ll make up the rest. And I’ll match whatever you’d make per day up there.”
“You don’t know what you’re offering,” I said. “A good bike messenger pulls down a lot of money.”
It was a little-known truth about the job: If you were committed to it-steady and reliable in reporting for work but fast and heedless on the street-you could outearn some of the young suits you sped past on the street.
I stood up and walked over to the window, looking down at the traffic. “You’re doing all this for Teaser’s memory?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I know it may not seem like there’s much of a connection to you, but
“I know,” I said.
“No you don’t, not really,” Serena said. “You ought to get you some
I’d never told her about CJ. The two of them had been the bright and dark of my old life. They didn’t mix.
“But don’t worry about the money,” she said. “Times are good right now.”
I didn’t believe her. I’d seen the truth of Serena’s glamorous gangster life in the faded brown shag rug of her rented house and the twenty-year-old sedan under her carport.
But then she added, “You know, your pay wouldn’t have to be all in cash. I could open up the drugstore for you.”
Her gang brothers in Trece dealt coke; Serena had her pharmacy heists. Cocaine meant speed for the street, and Xanax and Ambien were peace for the evenings, when memories of West Point and Wilshire Boulevard troubled me most. Serena was smart. She once told me that drugs were money in places money couldn’t go. Clearly she hadn’t forgotten that. I hadn’t used since I’d left L.A., but now the prospect was tempting to me where mere cash wouldn’t have been.
I ran my hand through my hair. “I’m not saying yes right away, but let me think about it,” I said. “I’ll have to look at a map and figure out how many days this’ll take, then I’ll give you an estimate on what it’ll cost. I’d want to be sure the expenses were really covered.”
“They will be,” she said. “Whatever you need.”
“I just mean this trip is going to take the time it takes,” I said. “I’m not going to drive way over the speed limit, or push myself until I could get tired and make an error in judgment. I can’t be reckless on the road. You know why.”
“Yeah,” Serena said. “I know.”
What we were both remembering was the reason I left L.A.
five
