Blues

Chapter Fifteen

Nas returns from stashing the drug money in remarkably good time, given how quickly Adaline can burn though a cigarette. "Did you give it to Cia to hide?" I ask as she retakes her seat and her cocktail.

"Cia isn't here."

"Where is she?"

"I don't know," Nas says, and for no good reason, I believe her. "She asked me to lie to Adaline."

"You think she's with Fede?"

"No," she says, indicating that she's already considered it. "I don't think Fede would risk it. Not this close to the murder, or right under Adaline's nose."

"I hate when you use that word."

"It was a murder."

"Are you sure Cia's safe?"

"No, but what am I supposed to do?"

"Go find her," I say. "That's what I'd do."

"If it were your brother, and your brother is a kid. Cia is a drug dealer. I trust her to be safe."

"Fede said--"

"You don't know Fede, Sav," she says quickly. "And you don't know any of these other crazy people like I do. For the last time."

Adaline finally opens the back door, and clearly Nas hears it. "And you have to answer quickly. Would you rather have huge feet and tiny ears or huge ears and tiny feet?"

"Huge feet, for balance."

"Why is there a car in the driveway?" Adaline demands, uninterested in the lie we're steadfastly attempting to sell anyway.

Nas shakes her head, and for whatever reason, I believe that she doesn't know.

"You can't just park in someone else's driveway," she mutters, escaping to the bottom of the stairs as Nas and I follow, mostly out of intrigue. "Dallas!"

Dallas, suddenly a timid boy, appears in record time.

"Why is there a car in the driveway?"

"I don't--"

"Get a gun and stand behind the door."

Rather than protest, Dallas turns to unlock a safe.

"Showing up uninvited, then inviting yourself to use the driveway. Imagine that?"

There's finally a knock at the door to put us all out of the misery of listening to her complain. Dallas stalks shadily toward it and stands flush against the wall on the hinge side, a pistol in both hands, pointed at the ground.

"Girls," is all she says to us. Apparently, we're supposed to know what that means. To Nas, it means get out of sight and try to eavesdrop from the kitchen. I follow, but struggle to find the fun in it that Nas seems to. My heart beats in my ears, throat and chest as I picture the homicidal drug lord here to take us all. Both of us anxiously peer at the transaction from the doorway.

Adaline gives Dallas a look before calmly turning the lock.

"Good afternoon," she says.

It's an older woman with glasses standing on the steps. She's not what I expected a homicidal drug lord to look like, but then again, neither is Adaline.

"I'm sorry to bother you," the lady says. "My name is Lynette Stack and I'm here from Resling Junior High. You must be Laurencia's mother."

Nas gives a fake cough as Dallas fumbles with the gun and sticks the barrel of it in his pants, tucking the handle under his shirt. He slides into a chair in the corner, attempting to blend into the family tableaux by looking grandmotherly and at ease.