Love Is A Fucking River

Love Is A Fucking River Part 1 of 2

Turns out to be a dude we're picking up, tall and oddly colored, like almost gray, but he's not a white dude. Puerto Rican if I had to guess. He slides in beside the lady, nods at me and then the fat guy says: "Carlos, this is Janey, my son's fiancé." And I almost curse out loud but don't. "Janey, this is my good friend and associate, Carlos." Carlos looks like he has to work extra hard to dig up a smile for her but when he does it's a real one and he offers his hand. When they shake I can see a certain chill pass over Janey, not like she's afraid or disdainful, just that she understands something. Her eyes look into his with a question and he nods eversoslightly in response. I don't know what it all means, but the whole night is already beyond odd at this point.

Maybe I should be scared. Probably. You hear stories, of course: taxi drivers disappearing, or getting mugged or kidnapped. All kinds of terrible shit. Found naked by the side of the road, covered in bitemarks and babbling boberias like some asshole in a nursing home. But anyway, I'm not scared. Janey's fine of course, but that's neither here nor there, and besides, she's already hooked up with Baby Fat. It might be because, for all their weirdness – and they are truly weird – this strange trio still seems oddly...how do I say it? Simpatico. There's a warmth to them, that seems to emanate out more powerfully than their sad gazes and hushed conspiring. Also, I realize that this is the first time I've gone more than ten minutes without thinking about Vanessa since she left me.

The next thing that happens though is a little creepy. When I ask where to next, Carlos looks me dead in the eye and give me my own address. I try not to flinch or make it obvious that I'm flummoxed but it seems like the guy can see through whatever bullshit mask I put up. He doesn't smile or grimace, just stays dead neutral and holds my gaze for a few seconds, apparently delving into my most fucked up childhood memories, maybe figuring out all my dogs' names, I don't know. I finally turn slowly around and start driving back towards Bushwick.

They're conspiring again, but Carlos doesn't seem to give a fuck if I hear or not. "It's confirmed, Gordo?" Not a very creative nickname, but oh well. The big guy nods, frowning. "And she's the source?" Carlos indicates Janey.

"My great aunt," Janey says without disguising her irritation at being talked about as if she's not there.

"Right," Carlos says. "What'd she say?"

"Ah, you have a great aunt," Gordo cuts in. "I hadn't realized that's who came to you about this." This seems to carry untold realms of fascination for him, I can only imagine why. I guess if I was his age I'd get gagigidy about a girl like Janey having a great aunt too.

"I told you that when I first called, Gordo." And then to Carlos. "She said it's this viejito on the floor above her."

That would be Juan-José I'm guessing. And CiCi must be Janey's great aunt. Interesting. Carlos doesn't look convinced though. "And she's sure? Does she know what she's talking about?"

"Listen, cowboy," Janey's eyes roll all the way back in her head. It's sexy as fuck. "You don't know a damn thing bout this lady, so I'll just let that skeptical smirk of your slide for this very moment." Janey pauses and takes a deep breath. I hope she's not flirting with him. "Yes," calmer now. "CiCi knows what she's talking about. Very much so. You don't have to believe me, but trust that when you see this viejito, he will be what you are looking for."

"Okay." Carlos sits back in the seat, apparently satiated.

Janey directs her sad face out the window and the window shines it back to her, dark and beautiful and barely there against the Brooklyn night. I just drive.