Boycotting Blue

15/Lou

     I opened my mouth to make a threat before I realized there was nothing I could say. When in doubt, twerk it out, I thought, which was the only piece of useful information that came to mind. I mentally rolled my eyes at myself. I needed to get my head checked as soon as I left here.

   “Hello.”

    I eyed the man for any weapons on him. His wore a suit that could’ve concealed any amount of weapons, but I felt like didn’t have any on him. “Hey.” I scanned the other two guys. One had a knife in his hand, the other one—the one closest to me—held the gun. Apparently there was some way to tell if a gun was unloaded by looking at it, but I didn’t remember how. So that option was a no go.

   The man motioned for the guy to put the gun down. “She’s safe. I like her.” His words didn’t match his tone.

   I pretended not to notice. “Oh. How sweet of you. Once we get past the name-callin’, threats, weapons, tattoos, height, weight… where was I goin’ with this again?” I smiled brightly at him. I could hear Juan’s voice in my head. Lou, that’s not the way to handle a situation this serious. Oh well. My smart-assedness was my only weapon.

    The man laughed. “You’re a character.” He had slight accent, not one that was overly noticeable. An accent like Blue’s actually. “I see why my son keeps you around.”

   His son? Who the hell was his son? “Who’s that?”

   “Blue.”

    Blue had a daddy?

    Of course he has a dad, you idiot. I stared at the guy. I figured Blue would have a dad, but I never gave much thought to his parents. After he told me his mother left him with his gang owning dad, I figured his dad was somewhere locked in jail, or, you know, in Florida to stay. I never figured his dad would come here to see him. “Oh.” I looked the guy up and down. They were about the same height. “So you’re a dead-beat daddy.” That wasn’t a fair assumption. He might have been a really good gang banger that happened to be a great dad.

    His eyes narrowed. “I took good care of Blue.” 

    “Emphasis on ‘good’, right? Not great?” I kept telling myself to shut up, but my mouth wouldn’t stop. I seriously had to get my head checked.

    The look he gave me could’ve froze hell over. “Mujer, I pay more attention to my son than tu padre does to you.”

    That was no surprise. Half the time I was sure Dad barely noticed me. “Do you want a cookie? You’re essentially braggin’ about things that you’re supposed to do.” I rolled my eyes. “See, the whole point of havin’ parents is to have someone love you, take care of you, an’ pay attention to you. If a parent does all that, they’re doin’ they’re job right. Now, a great parent also makes sure you stay out of trouble, you do your work, you exercise your talent—those are things your parent doesn’t necessarily have to do. Those things are braggin’ rights.”

   “How do you know I haven’t done those things?”

   “One: keep you out of trouble. Blue runs the streets—or, he ran the streets anyway. He was arrested, sentenced to three years in a juvenile delinquents center. That sounds like trouble to me. Two: do your work. I had to force Blue to do his work. Had you instilled in him from the beginning to do his work, he wouldn’t have had that problem. And have you sent him to any basketball camps? Because basketball is his talent.”

   He laughed. “Chica, please. I know my son—he cares about one thing: money. And he’ll do whatever it takes to get that money. That’s why he’s the best dealer there is.”