Hearing the phone ring from the back of her Main St. jewelry store office, Maria automatically returned the 24-karat gold bracelet she had been admiring back to its display and made a quick dash.
Chad Sr., who sitting at the Jewelry Repair counter, watched in curiosity as his wife sprinted past.
Today’s business, being an average July winter day, had been rather slow and Maria could only hope her other jewelry stores within Arica had done better.
Moments later, Chad’s jaw tightened and his eyebrows rose.
“Will he live?” He overheard his wife ask; noting the tone in her voice was more than a casual concern.
A momentary pause was her only reply, before Mike answered over the now “on” speakerphone, “We ... I ... don’t know. He took multiple hits and is in critical condition. The only thing the doctor’s telling me is the next twenty-four hours are critical. Eric already has had two surgeries and at least ten bullets were removed. One was so close to his heart that if the gunman had moved his rifle just a couple of millimeters left, the shot would have instantly killed him. As it stands, Eric’s currently on full support since both lungs were punctured. Not to mention, his other injuries, including his liver and a kidney.”
Maria unconsciously inhaled as she mentally visualized her friend’s wounds.
“And what about you? Were any of your injuries serious?”
Mike smiled even though Maria couldn’t see it.
“Well. You know me. Being raised a country-bumpkin, I’m pretty strong.”
Maria laughed. “I have no doubt about that, but perhaps one of these days they’ll be able to come up with a deodorant potent enough to help. But in the meantime, how many shots did you take?”
Mike repositioned himself on his hospital bed, then glanced downward and counted.
“Three. One in my arm, another grazed my left cheek and a third round passed through my right shoulder.”
“Ow,” Maria replied as her eyes winced. “That must have stung.”
“It sure did,” Mike said with a nod. “At the time it felt like a sledgehammer had hit me. I passed out, soon afterward.”
“So, who did this?” Maria said after a couple of seconds. “And do you have any idea why?”
“Sure do,” Mike replied, before reaching for the address book he placed on the nightstand. “Do you know a Felipe Alvarez?”
Maria immediately gasped. “Of course, I do. He’s the abusive kid my son has a relationship with.”
“I know,” Mike lackadaisically confirmed.
“So – is he the one who did this?” Maria asked in a panicked tone.
“No,” Mike replied, shaking his head. “He hired his cousin to do it. And … are you ready for this? We got the whole thing, including a full confession, on videotape.”
***
Felipe repeatedly gazed out the window as he paced, back and forth … and again … back and forth, over and over in an oblong circle in front of his mother’s couch.
Damn. The moron should have been here by now. I wonder where in the Hell he is?
“Who are you waiting for, dear?” Mrs. Alvarez asked, setting down the bowl containing the yellow cake mix she had been stirring for the last minute. “And shouldn’t you be grabbing your bags and heading toward the bus station? Your ride to Santiago will be leaving soon and you don’t want to miss it since your uncle Fernando is planning on picking you up.”
Felipe stopped in his tracks and turned to face her.
“I know, Mom,” he said, disregarding the slight shake in his hands. “But I was hoping Chad would hurry and get his rear end over here so I can tell him what’s going on. Otherwise, I might lose him.”
Mrs. Alvarez looked at him and guffawed. “And would that be such a bad thing? You treat the poor kid as if he was a puppy dog, there to do your bidding. And you know that isn’t right.”
“I know,” Felipe replied. “But ever since I’ve decided to stay with my uncle for the rest of the summer, I’ve been thinking about my relationship with Chad and have decided I’d like it to be a whole lot more than what it is.”
Mrs. Alvarez laughed and folded her arms in front of her.
“You? … Excuse me. Is this my real son talking? You know, the kid who only keeps a boyfriend around only if the poor soul is good in bed and agrees to be his slave.”
Felipe frowned.
“I’m not really all that bad, Mom. You know that.”
Mrs. Alvarez shook her head.
“Unfortunately, I don’t, Felipe. I don’t know what’s gotten into you this last couple of years. But I do know for sure you’re not the sweet, loving teen who used to care for others.”
Felipe gave her an exaggerated smile. “I’m still that person. Just give me a chance. I’ll prove it to you.”
Mrs. Alvarez’s eyes rolled upward and she turned back toward the kitchen counter.
“That’ll be hard to do, Son. I’ve seen you whenever Chad Jr.’s around and the person I’ve watched is certainly not the boy I gave birth to.”
A mock surprise flashed across Felipe’s face.
“I haven’t been that bad, have I?”
Mrs. Alvarez nodded affirmatively.
Felipe sighed and looked down at his Nikes.
“OK. Maybe I have. But I can change. … Just watch when Chad arrives, I’ll be a whole different person.”
“Just before you tell him goodbye since you’re leaving for your uncle’s place? What’s that going to prove?”
Outside, a small dog barked and Felipe shifted so he could glance out the window.
“Chad Jr.’s here. But you just watch, Mom. I’m not sure exactly how I’m going to do it, but somehow, I’m going to make things right. … You just watch me. OK?”
Mrs. Alvarez snorted. “Yeah, right. We’ll see.”