Chapter 14. Loose Affiliations

A Stack of C-notes Bundled-up

Business was good and within a month Nick was moving kilos. He’d paid off his debt to Adrienne… even the money he’d stolen. His guilt assuaged; a guilt he never knew he was capable of, felt better than he thought it would. Soon enough he was moving those fat black tortillas and that was better than selling real estate or cars. Alesandro stood by and cautiously watched Adrienne for signs of addiction and was aware of Nick’s occasional contact with Adrienne. For her part, she only met him for his payments on his debt and kept any contact as distant as she could.

Nick had to admit he was fearful of this newfound prosperity because, in doing well, he’d always sabotaged himself. So, he stopped using the product, cold turkey, and started working in the same Twelve Step Program with Max of all people. He thought he had a good program going for him, except for the rigorous honesty bit, and that troublesome ninth Step in which you make amends to every fucking person you had harmed. He worked out at a dojo too where he continued the karate he’d begun back at the Citadel. A man his size with those skills could be intimidating and he liked that. Adrienne was happy he was free of his financial obligation to her and drawn to take him back into her home: even if it was to just rent a room had Alesandro not been there. He longed to be back in the big bed with her. After all the abuse and betrayals, oddly enough she would have liked that, and this was more tempting to her than his bottomless supply of heroin. Somewhere between her drug muddled synapsis, and her brain’s hard wiring, she thought she deserved him.

Billy and Nick thought they were only loosely affiliated with Miguel and his boys. It was never their intention to join forces with these dangerous gangs and cartels. The money was the primary draw but, if Nick thought about it, he’d have to fess-up that the adrenaline rush of skirting immanent doom was almost as compelling as the money. This wasn’t so with Billy. All Billy wanted was to have enough tar and cash to keep the sickness away from his little trailer.  His affiliation with Nick was one of convenience. Billy didn’t care for Nick’s ambitions or desire for luxury. Get-rich-quick schemes would have brought too much attention to him. Billy was gifted with the sort of paranoia that kept him a recluse with modest ambitions in his junkyard. Nick’s desire reluctantly seduced him to expand the business into Ventura and Oxnard. Their association with Miguel had started out small time as Miguel was just starting himself. He’d played the “Big Shot” with these white boys but the truth was that he was on the lower rungs of the business. He was one of those lean and hungry men whose ambition was to rise above the riff-raff in the organization. Bringing in cash was how you had to do that, and he was beginning to bring it in.

Drug dealing is far more complicated and, at the same time simpler, than TV plots. There are territorial imperatives… lines that can’t be crossed. There are no vacuums… little players trying to make it big time.... big time players trying to stay big time...  only weak and strong players playing each other with a mutual understanding of where the boundaries are. Strength was brought about through brute force or clever manipulations. There are people, too, that were expected to come through and to take care of business. No one is alone in the way it works, and a quirky loyalty was demanded… or else. Billy knew this, but Nick didn’t care. It could have been a peculiar gene passed down from his father. After all, his dad was a lone wolf that would cross lines with seeming impunity except that Nick could care less about the collateral damage he left behind in his wake. Harry had always gone back to clean up Nick’s messes when he was still alive, but Nick was a child of his mother, Iniga, in that regard. He was skilled at escape and preferred to never look back.

Money … especially ten-grand-bundles of c-notes… had a distinct smell that appealed to Nick beyond greed, power, and prestige… it was an erotic attraction. He was clean, and somewhat sober for about nine months, and their dealings got them into a bigger league than they’d ever been in. Nick was moving cash and tar around faster than a jackrabbit in heat could mate. Miguel and his bosses down in Tee Jay were able to meet the demand and all they had to do was set up a network that could move it. Nick was good with this until they saw an opportunity to creep further beyond already established territories Oxnard, Ventura. Billy was okay south of Ventura in Thousand Oaks and even got by with Camarillo. However, it was up north in Santa Maria where Nick started to get noticed. He’d known better but saw a market where he could dump a half kilo of tar in Pismo once a month and a couple of them in San Lois Obispo almost as often as that. This was the exclusive territory of the Boys there that Miguel had no control over and warned them before that they would be on thin ice to mess with the Mexican Mafia.

Max had become acquainted with Alesandro because both knew about Nick’s wheeling and dealing. Even Adrienne’s affairs and addiction… they saw most of it unfolding from the sidelines, but Max stayed away from the details. Even though Alesandro lived in the same house as Adrienne and, his proximity restrained her impulses, he was still unable to do anything about her secrets. People talk, a good cab driver, or, maquisard for all that matters, assimilates information and, if good, this information will be stashed for further reference… even when it seems useless. What the hell, Max wasn’t involved anymore and, after all, by-gones were bye-gones… forgive but never forget… expect the worst from people and be glad when you get less than that from them. Most of all, he minded his own business after getting stung with that whole affair of Adrienne’s beating and the mystery of Nick’s aura of protection. Max had to live in the same town, but he didn’t have to be involved in whatever it was that had been going on. He was honest with himself about it... that his heart still ached for Adrienne, but he had let go of it… the chaos of desire… he thought it was for good.

Alesandro liked to walk. It was a couple of miles from the Riviera downhill to the Santa Barbara Roasting Company near Max’s place. It was a beautiful walk past a mix of houses, Spanish revival and old cottages. He enjoyed in pleasant weather and also mornings like this day when coastal fog shrouds lush green lawns, and parks with exotic trees. Once he arrived at the coffee shop, Alesandro remembered cafés in Bayonne and Pamplona that were places young and old people gathered to share news, debate and just plain talk. Now, all he saw was groups sitting together with their laptops open and the room completely silent except for the clicking of keyboards. “A new day is coming,” he thought as he spotted Max sitting at a table doing a crossword.

“Old fashioned, eh?” he said as he pulled out a chair. “May I sit with you?”

“By all means,” Max was deeply honored. Everything about Alesandro’s demeanor was a marvel of earned dignity in a town where dignity was just another front as fake as the tile roofs and faux-Spanish storefronts.

“Do you find words more interesting than people?” Alesandro quipped.

“More interesting than these people, perhaps?”

“I agree,”

Max added, feigning mawkish commentary, “Ah, the digital isolation of the individual..., never-mind the prude in me. It’s just remember when there were several all-night greasy spoons in this town where you could sit into the wee hours meeting new people and friends.”

Alesandro confessed, “Yes, I’m in a bad mood too. I can see Johanna was wrong to banish you. You are probably the only friend she has in this country.”

“Adrienne and Nick?”

“She has a secret she’s holding back from me,” Alesandro said solemnly.

Max understood this was no accidental meeting. The old man needed to get something off his chest and Max had some idea of what it was about.

Alesandro went to the counter and ordered a coffee. He looked as though he was confused as the young woman asked him, “What size?” She pointed to the paper cups on display, “Small, medium, large?”

He reached for the small cup displayed and drew his hand back mildly embarrassed as she passed a small cup to him, “Sorry, I thought...”

“No prob... coffee is over there. You pour your own....,” recognizing his accent was foreign, she then pointed to another place and with a flirting smile she directed, “... el azúcar y la crema?”

Alesandro smiled and took the cup with his good hand. She noticed the other arm was hanging limp. She came out from behind the counter and offered politely, “Let me help you.”

Max was delighted to watch this action. Alesandro had to be old enough to be the girl’s great-grandfather yet he was so handsome and dignified looking she couldn’t resist innocently flirting with him.

The girl brought the coffee to Max’s table. Alesandro sat down and let out a sigh as he nodded to the girl, “Muchas Gracias señorita”

“Mi placer senor,” she showed off her high school Spanish.

“I’ve been through this with so many others,” Alesandro’s face took on a serious composure. “Johanna expects me to be a guard. I am her guardian but not a guard.”

“What’s the difference?” Max fished.

“A guardian is there to protect and not to imprison.”

“I get it. Not protective custody?”

Alesandro’s face lit up with an old warrior’s grin, “With no bars.”

“What about that detective Ryan?”

“He owed a debt to Harry and protected Nick as long as Harry was alive,” Alesandro’s grin returned to a more solemn one. “I think he has finally said it is too much. He has always been a good cop, in spite of this one gap in his discretion.”

“How about Richards?” Max asked to see how much, if anything, Alesandro might know of what was going on. It was still all a big mystery to Max; i.e., Nick’s umbra of protection in the police department and Richards’ hostility, etc.

Alesandro became stern, “Dangerous... he’s dangerous,”

Max forgot that he wasn’t supposed to know anything, “You think he’s in on it?”

“You know something?” Alesandro warmed up, “In on what?”

Just to get Alesandro off that train of thought, he sensed it wouldn’t work on Alesandro, but he sought to divert attention back to Richards by stating the obvious, “Yeh, Richards is dangerous but he’s not so smart about what he’s involved with.”

“Yes, corruption and incompetence are a deadly combination. What part does he play here?”

Two customers sat on the bench next to Max’s and Alesandro’s table and opened their laptop cases across from each other.

“I think his prime objective is to bed Adrienne.” And, in a low register, Max said, “We ought to talk in private. My place is a block away.”

Alesandro looked around the coffee joint, knew what Max was suggesting and picked up his paper cup.

They walked to Max’s place and as soon as they entered the small room, Alesandro’s eyes rested on a photo of Adrienne on the cork board above Max’s desk. She had a cigarette in her hand as though caught in mid-sentence. Seeing that, he mentioned, “You love her, just don’t let that cloud your judgment. He’s had Ryan’s protection, but other than that, Richards has taken Nick’s mantel.”

Max put away Alesandro’s caution as unnecessary and ignored it by throwing out a probe, “Yes, he’s taken the mantel for a nice profit, eh?” He was just guessing at what Alesandro might know of Richards, Ryan, and Nick’s dealings, but the warning confirmed his suspicions, “So, what do we do about it? Do we just sit on our hands while these....”

“Adrienne’s an adult,” Alesandro asserted, “the dealings of the others don’t concern me, but my charge is Adrienne. And, whether he knows it or not, I owe it to his mother to help Nick in any way that I can.”

Stunned, this revelation floored Max, “His mother?”

He had no knowledge of the depth of Alesandro’s relationship with Nick’s beginnings.

“Yes. Sit down, Max. You ought to know”

Max sat at his desk while Alesandro took the stool at the drawing table. Homer strolled across the table, took a seat on Alesandro’s lap, and purred as Alesandro told an abridged version of the story. Nick’s mother... of Harry and Carabanchel... of Adrienne’s father, Marcel, and her mother, Johanna, in the Dutch Resistance.

“Kinda makes what we’ve been doing with our lives look pathetic,” Max confessed.

“Adrienne said the same thing when I told her about Nick’s origins but I’m not trying to impress you or her with heroes and villains. We just did what was put in front of us... each of us. It was a grim time.”

“Just the same, we owe you something.”

“You owe us this, and this is all you owe,” he admonished, “live a good life. A life worthy of love.” And then, surprisingly to Max, he let out a low rumbling belly laugh that caused Homer to sit up erect on Alesandro’s lap.

“What’s so funny?” Max winked at Homer and he curled back up on Alesandro’s lap to resume purring.

“That I’m preaching. Me, of all people! Ah, what’s the use? I might as well say it. Nick’s behavior was Harry’s big secret. I’ve seen it before...”

“You mean to say Nick’s a psychopath,” Max interrupted, “Shit, you’d have to be blind not to see that. The Harry Baker I knew... the a.k.a., Bird Dog; his trained eye wasn’t blind to anything.”

“Adrienne once told me that you and I are very much alike but I’m thinking you are much more like her father, Marcel.” Alesandro answered Max, “Yes, you see through the smoke and mirrors and you speak of a debt. Harry wasn’t blind to Nick’s insanity, but he wasn’t driven by... no, he was indebted to Nick’s mother.”

“Have you some way of ...” Max struggled to find the words or form the thought.

Alesandro finished it saying, “No, I can’t keep Adrienne from destroying herself. She has a parade of suitors she beds down and discards. Nick, Billy, and that officer Richards, are drawing a circle around her that I have no power to do anything about. Her mother expects me to do more but we are past our prime and there is little we can do but wait.”

Max felt better about his own failures along the same line. It was good to talk with someone that felt as strongly towards Adrienne as him. The sun was setting behind them in the West towards Goleta by the time Max drove Alesandro back and dropped him off at Adrienne’s house.