Brian. Larry of LARRY’S 24/7 EMERGENCY PLUMBING was still upstairs.
Cody still wore the same sweats he’d had on earlier that day, and he hadn’t shaved. He smelled of beer, cigarette smoke, and sweat, and he said he’d spent the evening watching the game at a cop bar near police headquarters on Cherokee Street after dropping off the drill earlier. As he grew older, Cody was looking more and more like his father, a notorious drinker and Vietnam War vet with a bulbous nose and kettle-sized potbelly who did odd jobs throughout the county from a ramshackle panel van. The semiautomatic pistol he had clipped to the waistband of his sweatpants gave me pause and created an air of seriousness and purpose our living room had been lacking, I thought.
Brian, on the other hand, wore chinos, tasseled loafers with no socks, and an untucked pale blue dress shirt. His hair was receding and had been reduced to a tight swoosh high on his forehead. He had penetrating hazel eyes. He’d lost even more weight from when I’d seen him last and was beginning to resemble a hanger for his fine clothes.
Melissa had asked if they wanted anything before settling down in a chair. Cody asked for a beer. Brian wanted ice water with “a little slice of lemon.”
“I’m sure it was Luis,” I said. “He was in the bathroom a long time. I’m not sure Garrett didn’t put him up to it, though.”
“Disgusting,” Brian said. “
Animals.
”
“The ‘Sur-13’ tattoo you described,” Cody said, “that’s for Sureños 13—the local chapter of a nationwide gang. Yousee the gang graffiti all over the south side and downtown. We know all about them—they deal most of the meth in Colorado. I’ll check out this Luis dude with the gang task force, see if they know him.”
“Why would Luis be with Garrett,” I asked, “and vice versa? Stevie is a white kid, too.”
Cody said, “We’re seeing it more and more. Rich white kids slumming with the Mexican gangsters. They want some of that power and cool to rub off on them. It’s just like white rappers, trying to be something they’re not. The Mexican gangs are the kings of Denver, just like every other city in the West and Southwest.”
I asked, “What’s in it for the gangsters?”
“Connections,” Cody said. “Access to schools and neighborhoods where there are plenty of kids with disposable income. Plus, Luis is probably smart. He knows Garrett’s dad is a federal judge. That connection could help him and his buddies somewhere down the road.”
“Something else,” I said. “The remote control for the television is missing. They must have taken it when I got them the drinks.”
“That was nice of you,” Cody said sarcastically.
“We were nice to them because we didn’t want to start out as adversaries,” Melissa said. “We hoped they’d see reason once they met us and saw the home we’ve established for Angelina …”
Brian and Cody nodded sympathetically.
Cody glanced down at his notes, said, “So did Garrett say anything you could consider threatening?”
“No.”
“But he indicated you better be nice to him or he wouldn’t sign the papers?”
“Yes.”
“Melissa, did you hear that exchange?” Cody asked.
“No.”
He turned back to me. “So it’s your word against his.”
I shook my head. “It wasn’t just what they said, it was how they acted. Like they were sharing a big joke being here. They kept looking at each other like they’d burst out laughing anytime.”
“It was really uncomfortable,” Melissa said. “Garrett stares at me like I’m a piece of meat.”
That agitated Brian, who leaned forward and gripped his knees with his hands. He was protective of Melissa and had been since our marriage. We were, he said, his surrogate family since he’d never have one of his own. He and Melissa talked on the telephone every few days. Long, aimless conversations punctuated by her laughter and her mock-outraged cries of “Brian!” when he
Cody still wore the same sweats he’d had on earlier that day, and he hadn’t shaved. He smelled of beer, cigarette smoke, and sweat, and he said he’d spent the evening watching the game at a cop bar near police headquarters on Cherokee Street after dropping off the drill earlier. As he grew older, Cody was looking more and more like his father, a notorious drinker and Vietnam War vet with a bulbous nose and kettle-sized potbelly who did odd jobs throughout the county from a ramshackle panel van. The semiautomatic pistol he had clipped to the waistband of his sweatpants gave me pause and created an air of seriousness and purpose our living room had been lacking, I thought.
Brian, on the other hand, wore chinos, tasseled loafers with no socks, and an untucked pale blue dress shirt. His hair was receding and had been reduced to a tight swoosh high on his forehead. He had penetrating hazel eyes. He’d lost even more weight from when I’d seen him last and was beginning to resemble a hanger for his fine clothes.
Melissa had asked if they wanted anything before settling down in a chair. Cody asked for a beer. Brian wanted ice water with “a little slice of lemon.”
“I’m sure it was Luis,” I said. “He was in the bathroom a long time. I’m not sure Garrett didn’t put him up to it, though.”
“Disgusting,” Brian said. “
Animals.
”
“The ‘Sur-13’ tattoo you described,” Cody said, “that’s for Sureños 13—the local chapter of a nationwide gang. Yousee the gang graffiti all over the south side and downtown. We know all about them—they deal most of the meth in Colorado. I’ll check out this Luis dude with the gang task force, see if they know him.”
“Why would Luis be with Garrett,” I asked, “and vice versa? Stevie is a white kid, too.”
Cody said, “We’re seeing it more and more. Rich white kids slumming with the Mexican gangsters. They want some of that power and cool to rub off on them. It’s just like white rappers, trying to be something they’re not. The Mexican gangs are the kings of Denver, just like every other city in the West and Southwest.”
I asked, “What’s in it for the gangsters?”
“Connections,” Cody said. “Access to schools and neighborhoods where there are plenty of kids with disposable income. Plus, Luis is probably smart. He knows Garrett’s dad is a federal judge. That connection could help him and his buddies somewhere down the road.”
“Something else,” I said. “The remote control for the television is missing. They must have taken it when I got them the drinks.”
“That was nice of you,” Cody said sarcastically.
“We were nice to them because we didn’t want to start out as adversaries,” Melissa said. “We hoped they’d see reason once they met us and saw the home we’ve established for Angelina …”
Brian and Cody nodded sympathetically.
Cody glanced down at his notes, said, “So did Garrett say anything you could consider threatening?”
“No.”
“But he indicated you better be nice to him or he wouldn’t sign the papers?”
“Yes.”
“Melissa, did you hear that exchange?” Cody asked.
“No.”
He turned back to me. “So it’s your word against his.”
I shook my head. “It wasn’t just what they said, it was how they acted. Like they were sharing a big joke being here. They kept looking at each other like they’d burst out laughing anytime.”
“It was really uncomfortable,” Melissa said. “Garrett stares at me like I’m a piece of meat.”
That agitated Brian, who leaned forward and gripped his knees with his hands. He was protective of Melissa and had been since our marriage. We were, he said, his surrogate family since he’d never have one of his own. He and Melissa talked on the telephone every few days. Long, aimless conversations punctuated by her laughter and her mock-outraged cries of “Brian!” when he
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