Chapter 13. Nick's Deal (pt. 2)

Alesandro left his room at the end of the hallway and, when he overheard their voices, he stopped at the top of the stairs as they completed the transaction from the landing below. He wasn’t comfortable with Johanna’s commission for the job of monitoring Adrienne, but he was concerned about the welfare of his charge regardless of how he felt it compromised his long-standing trust with the girl he’d known since she was a child. He had to force himself to intercede on the behalf of Johanna with whom a lifetime of trust had also been shared. To Alesandro this was nothing new, for his whole life had been defined by war, peace, opposing loyalties, and allegiances to disparate individuals. Under such circumstances his natural inclination was to wait and see what was going to evolve before taking effective action.

He stood still until he heard Nick leave through the kitchen door and called down, “Adrienne, please come to my room.”

Adrienne asked, “Now?”

Regardless, she’d been approaching the stairs to go to her studio. When he didn’t answer she said, “Okay.”

Looking around the room she thought of how much it was like his room back home. She knew that Alesandro was going to admonish her as soon as she entered.

She explained, “I’m sorry, Alesandro. I had to get him out of my hair.”

“Do you think it will work?” Alesandro gestured for her to have a seat before he continued, “I know my presence has changed what I am to you. Am I a friend or am I your prison guard?”

She sobbed as she spoke, “I hope you still consider me a friend.” The ache in her throat was needing release.

“Nick is a ona saltzaile,” he searched for the right word, “a good salesman. He will get a foot in the door and then...”

“I know... I know...,” she demurred, thinking of the twenty grand Nick had talked her out of before, and now another twenty, “It’s harder than you think.”

“He’s in over his head and will endanger anyone near him. You must know that, don’t you?”

Her sobs let loose into a tidal wave of sorrows as she allowed herself to lean into the comfort of Alesandro’s embrace.

The exchange of cash for kilos went off at a popular taco joint on Milpas. Nick wasn’t at all worried about the meeting. He was excited, like a teen on his first date, to finally meet with some of the Tee-Jay boys even if they were lower echelon gangsters. He had seen the Mexican magazine, Alama, and marveled at the graphic depictions of gangster executions, beheadings and gory mutilations, depicted on its pages. He knew these guys were capable of, or responsible for, some of it. Miguel had been a mysterious voice on the phone that Billy spoke to only when he needed product. However, Nick was meeting him for the first time. Miguel was with a San Diego brute that lumbered into the place whose eyes did all the talking. You did not want to mess with him. Miguel, on the other hand, wasn’t threatening at all. He was almost friendly, but he spoke with the assurance that his words were taken seriously by all. He did not have to feign arrogance and his demeanor put anyone he talked with at ease.

They took seats at the table where Nick and Billy had been waiting and without pause Miguel gestured to Billy, saying, “We’ll have a couple of quésadillas.”

Billy understood the gesture and cued up in the line at the order window. The common picture of these transactions taking place in an isolated desert location is mostly myth. This place had an outdoor area with tables under a canopy that was always crowded. There was no table service, but the place was a trendy joint for people who came from all over Southern California for the friendly ambiance on the patio as much as for the food.

Billy kept his peace while Miguel had a brief but friendly chat about the food with a couple of men at the table they all shared. It was customary for people to share tables there, which added to its unusually friendly atmosphere. He turned his attention to Nick, “So Mr. Baker, you are, shall we say, the principle investor?”

Nick was assured that Miguel’s discretion commanded an equivalent respect even though they were discussing the matter at hand quite publicly, “Yes, I’m most pleased to be a partner in this enterprise.”

“We can discuss it after we enjoy our quesadillas,” he flashed disarmingly pearly white teeth and continued, “Perhaps you can give us a tour of the city. I have only been a few times here and I like it.” He turned his attention to the men at their table, asking about where they were from and how they liked Santa Barbara. The men openly shared that they were a gay couple from West Los Angeles and Miguel chatted with them as though he was talking with any young couple in love.

It was a relaxed and easy affair that in no way was transacted without some degree of caution. Security comes from dealing with dependable and profitable associates. They knew that these Tee-Jay cartel, Arellano Felix, folks really didn’t give one shit for the lives of those who crossed them: there were no second chances. Maybe that fourteen-year-old kid in the parking lot, Nick couldn’t help but notice, was likely armed with a Mac machine pistol in his baggie pants awaiting a signal… they were quite willing to ‘clear the room” of anyone interfering with business, DEA or ICE… collateral personnel… it didn’t matter to them. The kid was a willing, and expendable asset bred for this purpose, to use in extreme cases. Even if he blasted the whole damned restaurant, it would be reported as a drive-by gang-banging by the press and the police knew better but wouldn’t say so because they knew it would be futile to take it any further. The police would just round-up the usual suspects … a kid… a punk from the East Side or the West Side gangs. It would be in the news… Big story... Drive-By Shooting!!! The kid’s parole juvenile court date would come months after the incident. He would do time… get some street creds… politicians would call for more gun control laws and shoved into the backdrop of the public’s collective memory by the next outrage. But it wasn’t probable that anything dire would occur during the transaction. The cartels were shy of drawing attention to themselves in del Norte… nothing at all in the manner they eliminated competition in the open down south in Tee-Jay.

Nick and Billy were aware of the dangerous scenario, but Nick had an ace card to back his moves. A squad car was parked down the street with a clear view of the parking lot from the Ortega Street cul de sac. A uniformed cop sat in the driver’s seat and could be clearly seen from the lot.

The sight of the squad car didn’t bother Miguel. As they approached the SUV, he commented, “I see you have my friend, Richards, watching.”

Not at all surprised Miguel knew Richards, Nick answered without flinching, “I figured you wouldn’t mind if I had some back-up.”

“That is why I trusted you with this. It is wise to use caution.”

 Nodding towards the kid across the street, Nick said, “You have protection,” and his confidence boosted, he played his hand like a professional, “We do too. I was counting on you not minding Richards in on this. I don’t usually call on him, you know.”

Miguel seemed mildly entertained, “We could be having a most agreeable business deal, but I hope you aren’t bringing too many people into your circle.”

“No, Just Richards in charge of security. He's proven discrete in the past.”

Miguel grinned, showing off his gold grill, “Compartmentalized. I like that.”

Billy picked up his pack from Nick’s car and the four rode off in Miguel’s Mercedes. Miguel waved a hand for Nick to sit in the front seat and he sat with Billy behind Nick in the back seat. They drove away from Milpas and up the steep winding Garcia Road to Alameda Padre Serra. Richards wasn’t far behind: far enough away to stay safely in sight but close enough to be obvious in the Hulk’s rearview mirror that he wasn’t trying to fool anyone. The Hulk turned right on Mereno Road and stopped at the entrance of the El Encanto on Alvarado Place. Miguel’s Hulk opened the brief case and thumbed through the bundle of twenty bills while Nick picked up the case from the floor at his feet. It was a laptop case.

Unzipping the case Nick saw nothing but the laptop inside. Miguel gestured with his free hand flipping. He didn’t quite understand until Miguel said, “check the battery.” He opened it up finding four bundles wrapped in cellophane instead of the usual circuit boards. “Very clever,” He pulled the two bundles out… about a half kilo… tar is compact and quite portable. He stuck a pen knife into the cellophane and then took a taste… swell… the bitterness soon turned into a mild high and he could tell that this was potent stuff…. a higher grade than what Billy had been hawking.

“Good enough for you?” Miguel flashed his gold grill again.

“Yeh…”

“Okay then,” Miguel said nothing as they drove up next to Nick’s car parked in the dirt lot next to the Taquerilla.

“This ought to set you up fine for kilos if you can dump this in a week … better than nickel and diming a peso or two, eh?”

Nick thought he was talking to himself, but he muttered audibly enough, “Why us?”

“You guys can be the white boys… Montecito, Hope Ranch… Santa Barbara is nice… eh? We need to expand. Besides, Richards assured me he could keep your profile low”

The Hulk got out and opened the door for them valet style as Miguel added, “And Billy here has shown he can move this stuff. Eh, Billy?”

Miguel didn’t especially like using white boys to move his product. He used tested and true Hispanic gangsters like the Surenos of the Mexican Mafia. This was a test... an experiment... these guys were clean compared to the folks he’d been dealing with and it would be easy to handle them... he hoped.