Nicolas: A MissTaken Story - Ch5

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Chapter 5

“Happy graduation.” Luis patted Nicolas on the back as he handed him an unusually large stack of bills for his payment one weekend.

“What?” Nicolas frowned, reluctant to take the money.

“You graduate in two weeks, no?”

“Yes …” Nicolas still hesitated.

“So, this is my graduation present to you.”

Slowly, Nicolas reached out and accepted the payment. Luis chuckled.

“What are your plans now?” Luis asked.

“I’m looking for an apartment I can afford in Ixtapa.”

“Oh?” Luis looked down. “As a matter of fact, I happen to know of a very nice apartment you can have, rent-free.”

Nicolas stared at Luis, with one eyebrow raised.

“It is a … distribution office for us. You will of course have some responsibilities: keeping inventory, receiving and distributing product.”

“Product? Do you mean …?”

“Crystal meth and marijuana mostly, some heroin.”

“I’ll be selling it?” Nicolas averted his gaze, twisting his fingers together nervously.

“Oh, no.” Luis shook his head. “You will receive shipments from manufacturing locations, and our vendors will come to you to restock their supplies. It will be very important for you to keep good records of what comes in, what goes out, and to whom it goes out. Inventory must be accounted for.”

“So, I just sit in the apartment all day? And wait for people?”

“No, no.” Luis chuckled. “They will call you in advance, so you can arrange a time to meet—usually in the afternoon or evening.”

“Also …” Luis continued. “If you feel they are trustworthy, you can share the apartment—and the responsibility––with your friends, if you wish. You will handle the calls of course, but you can delegate responsibilities as you see fit. Just be certain that you can trust them.” Luis grew serious. “You will be collectively responsible for any accounting errors.”

“Is this something new?” Nicolas queried suspiciously, “or am I replacing someone?”

Luis drew in a breath and glanced at the ceiling.

“You are replacing someone. Two someones, actually. They started using some of the product—out of curiosity at first––but then they used more to throw parties with some friends, and it became a … habit.”

“So, what happened?” Nicolas shifted nervously, recalling the penalty for drug use outlined in the Templario rulebook.

“Well, naturally we couldn’t allow such behavior. We had to terminate their employment.”

“Where are they now?” Nicolas persisted.

“They and their friends disappeared while hiking in the jungle. Very tragic.” Luis paused in somber reflection. Then his face brightened. “But I am not worried about you, Nicolas. You are a very bright young man, with a very promising future.”

Nicolas stared down at his hands, then realized he was still holding the money. He pulled out his wallet and tried to cram the paper money in. The stack was too thick to fit. After several attempts, he stuffed the bills that wouldn’t fit in his wallet directly into his pants pocket.

“I have business to attend to at the moment,” Luis said, “but if you’d like, I can show you the apartment later this afternoon, say … in two hours?”

“Sure.”

“Excellent.” Luis smiled. “I will call you with the address in roughly two hours and meet you there.” He rose from his desk, indicating it was time for Nicolas to leave.

Nicolas rose, shook Luis’ hand, and left the office.

* * *

“So …” Oscar closed his eyes in thought. “You get an apartment, rent-free, just for taking a few calls and managing some inventory?”

“That’s what he said,” Nicolas said between bites of a sandwich.

“Where do I sign up?” Javier cut in enthusiastically.

“I don’t know.” Oscar shook his head slowly. “That sounds like a good deal but …”

“But what?” Javier spoke after a moment’s silence.

“It’s just … I don’t know. What about the money? He didn’t say anything about that. Are you responsible for collecting the money from the dealers? Do they buy the stuff from you? Do you have to pay for the deliveries? What if you make an accounting mistake? Can you trust the dealers to not take advantage of you?”

“Aww, c’mon, man. This is Nicolas. He’s a genius. He can totally figure a way to keep that from happening.”

“I don’t know.” Oscar shuffled his feet. “I mean, stealing a little change from spoiled, rich gringas, or collecting insurance money from shopkeepers, is one thing, but drugs? I don’t know …”

“Oscar––” Javier’s tone was condescending “––we aren’t going to be dealing drugs, or making them, were just transferring them from maker to dealer. We’d barely even be considered as ‘in the drug business.’ Besides, people want to use the drugs—it’s not like we are forcing them to take them. So why not make a little money supplying people with what they want?”

“I think you two might be getting ahead of yourselves,” Nicolas interjected. “I mean, we should probably look at the apartment first, right? What if it’s a dive? In a trashy neighborhood? There are places I wouldn’t want to live, even for free, you know?”

“True,” Oscar conceded. “Might as well check the place out before we make any decisions.”

They finished their meal and sat together, talking idly for several minutes, until Nicolas’s phone rang.

“It’s Luis,” Nicolas announced as he answered the call.

“Are you ready to take a look at your future accommodations?”

“Sure, we’ll take a look at it.”

Luis chuckled. “Okay, I will be there in about fifteen minutes, let me give you the address and directions, and I will meet you there.”

Nicolas recited the address and directions out loud. He wasn’t very good at remembering verbal instructions, but Javier and Oscar would keep it straight. As he continued reciting the directions, Javier developed an odd look on his face.

“Are you sure you said that right?” Javier asked after the call ended.

“Yeah.” Nicolas frowned as he walked to his scooter. “Why?”

“Is it a long way from here?” Oscar picked up his bicycle. “It didn’t sound like that many instructions.”

Nicolas grimaced. “Is that it, Javier? Am I gonna have to wait forever for you two slowpokes?”

“Oh, sure,” Javier whined, “rub it in, scooter boy.”

“But no.” Javier’s brow was furrowed. “It’s pretty close, I think. If I got it straight, it’s close to the beach. The nice beach, where the resort hotels are. The nice ones.”

“Are there apartments down there?” Oscar questioned.

“Yeah ...”

“Let me guess,” Nicolas cut him off. “The nice apartments.”

“Oh, scooter’s a comedian.” Javier threw his head back in mock laughter. “C’mon, let’s go take a look at this place.”

The apartment was in fact a condominium, situated midway between two golf courses, one to the southeast and the other northwest. It was just less than a kilometer from the ocean. There was a master bedroom and three smaller bedrooms, an ample-sized kitchen, and an enormous living space, made larger by a balcony with floor-to-ceiling windows and sliding glass doors.

The balcony, situated just above the tree line, faced the ocean and provided an expansive and spectacular view. The master bedroom had its own smaller private balcony, furnished with a bistro table and two chairs.

The entire space was luxurious, with tile floors, granite and marble stonework, and rich wood trims and finishes.

Oscar crossed the large main balcony and peered over the edge. Directly below was a small, manicured strip of green grass, bordering a cement patio, with a circular sauna, and an irregular-shaped pool serving as the primary features. The far side of the pool, was a straight infinity edge, which dropped to a bed of dark gray river rock. Beyond that, a thick grove of trees created a natural boundary between them and a large tourist zone, consisting of several blocks of restaurants, clubs, bars, and a few hotels.

South of that was a large street, lined with shops, including the shop of Gaspar’s father, and just beyond that lay the large stretch of beachside resort hotels—the primary location where Nicolas and his friends used to find their victims and liberate them from their excess money.

“Of course.” Luis stepped beside Nicolas as he stared out at the vista. “We expect you to take care of this apartment. As you can see, the walls, floors and ceiling are in excellent condition—freshly painted and cleaned. You are welcome to hire a maid if you wish. Just––” Luis gazed at the view a moment, then directed a smile at Nicolas “––keep it clean.”

Nicolas glanced briefly at Luis, then back to the scenery, nodding absently as he did so.

“So,” Luis asked gazing at the pool below, “are you ready to move in?”

“Of course he is.” Javier strode briskly across the balcony, wrapping an arm around Nicolas’s shoulder.

Luis grinned. “And when would you like to take occupancy?”

“Tomorrow?” Javier asked, staring anxiously at Nicolas.

“He still has to finish school, you idiot.” Oscar glared at Javier from the doorway.

“Nicolas?” Luis spoke softly after a long pause, during which Oscar and Javier stood, staring at Nicolas with bated breath.

“Graduation is a week from Friday.” Nicolas twisted his fingers pensively. “Monday after that?”

“That would be fine.” Luis beamed, exposing his brilliant white teeth.

Javier pumped his fist enthusiastically while Oscar stared at his friend, his face unreadable.

Nicolas: A MissTaken Story - Ch4

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Chapter 4

“All you did was collect envelopes from a bunch of shopkeepers?” Javier stared in disbelief at the cash Nicolas held out for the boys to see.

“You made that this morning?” Oscar didn’t wait for Nicolas to respond to Javier’s question.

“Yup.” Nicolas nodded. “It was that easy.”

“And he gave you a scooter.” Javier continued to stare. “You think he’d do that for us?”

“I don’t know.” Nicolas shrugged. “I mean, you guys live here in Ixtapa, so you don’t have to travel as far, but I think you’d get paid the same.”

Gaspar grunted. He had remained silent throughout the conversation, staring moodily into the distance.

“Well,” Nicolas added, “assuming they have you do the same kind of work, I suppose.”

“What’s wrong, Gaspar?” Javier asked.

“Taking money from the shopkeepers?” Gaspar’s tone was accusing. “Taking money from my father?”

“I didn’t take anything from your father.” Nicolas raised his hands defensively.

“He wasn’t on your street,” Gaspar snarled, “but somebody did. Maybe you didn’t today, but what about next week? The week after that?”

“You know,” Nicolas softened his tone, “your father does benefit from the service the Templarios provide.”

Gaspar snorted derisively.

“So, what, we’re supposed to pay taxes to the government, and to the Templarios, and to anyone else who claims they are providing a service that somehow benefits us, whether or not we wanted or needed that service?”

“Yeah, but if you’re benefitting along with the other shopkeepers, it’s not fair if you don’t pay.”

“And what if none of the shopkeepers want it? Huh? At least with the government we can vote.”

“That vote is just an illusion, really.” Nicolas parroted Luis’s argument from earlier. “You don’t really get that much say, just which of two or three candidates is in charge for a time, and they all say and do the same stuff, tell the same lies. With the Templarios, they at least make decisions based on what makes the most business sense.”

Gaspar expelled an exasperated breath, shaking his head. He glanced down for a moment, then looked back at Nicolas.

“And what if tomorrow they decide it makes more business sense to support the robbers, and collect taxes from them instead?”

“But that wouldn’t happen,” Nicolas insisted, though the nagging voice in the back of his mind was less certain. “That wouldn’t make business sense.”

Gaspar stared at Nicolas for a moment, then sighed as he lowered his head.

“Look, I can’t do this. My papi would die if he found out.”

“Oh, hey, man.” Oscar placed a hand on Gaspar’s shoulder. “Even if the rest of us decide to do it, you don’t have to. We understand. We’re still your friends, man.”

“Yeah.” Javier’s expression changed to a smirk. “We might even buy lunch for you sometimes.”

Gaspar glared at Javier, then chuckled, shaking his head.

The boys relaxed as the tension lessened. They sat in silence for a moment, sipping their drinks and watching passersby.

“What the heck,” Javier broke the silence. “I’ll give it a try. Sign me up, or whatever.”

Nicolas smirked, then shifted his attention to Oscar.

“You already know I’m right behind you.” Oscar flashed Nicolas a mischievous grin. “Unless they’re chasing us. Then I’m right in front of you.”

“As, if.” Nicolas snorted. “You’d have to be faster than me to do that.”

“Ouch! You need some burn cream, Oscar?” Javier teased.

“Whoa! What’s that?” Oscar pointed with his left hand at the ground a few feet in front of Javier.

“What?” Javier looked down.

Oscar’s right hand swung around, landing an open-palmed slap on Javier’s exposed neck.

“Oww!” Javier grabbed at his neck. “Man, you are such a punk!”

Oscar laughed. The other three joined in.

Gaspar grew serious again: “Guys, I appreciate our friendship and all, and we’ve had fun playing our game, but …” he stared at the ground, “… I just don’t see how we can hang out without it coming back on my papi. It’s not that I want to cut ties with you guys over this, but ...” He looked up, pleadingly.

“Guilty by association?” Nicolas offered. “Don’t worry, man, we get it. We’re still friends. That won’t change. But we’ll keep our distance, at least until we can figure something out.”

“Oh, man,” Javier groaned. “This is all so touching. We gonna all hug and cry now?”

“Shut up, man.” Oscar punched Javier playfully in the shoulder.

* * *

“How was your job?” Nicolas’s mother asked later that evening while she was straightening up the living room.

“It was good,” Nicolas answered tersely.

“What did you do?”

“Just some collections—I mean, deliveries.” He quickly corrected himself.

“Of what?” His mother stopped tidying and fixed Nicolas with a suspicious stare.

“Just some packages.”

“Of what?” His mother’s stare grew more intense.

“Just stuff,” Nicolas responded evasively.

“Drugs?” She leaned forward, her tone accusatory.

“No, Mamá.”

“How do you know?”

“It was just money,” Nicolas relented.

“Money?”

“Yeah, like payroll stuff.”

Nicolas fidgeted, his eyes downcast, unable to meet his mother’s gaze. She continued to stare for what felt like hours, then finally, with an explosive breath, she turned on her heel and stormed to the kitchen.

“Son.” Nicolas’s father, sitting unnoticed on the sofa, looked up from his book. “Why do you do that?”

Nicolas glanced at his father questioningly.

“Why do you irritate her like that? She loves you. She worries about you.”

“I don’t know.” It was a barely discernable mumble. Nicolas stared at the floor. Why did he always have to take her side? Why did he always kowtow to her authoritarian demands, her volatile temper, her overbearing, domineering, controlling behavior?

Nicolas watched his father from the corner of his eye. His father’s eyes flicked this way and that, as if trying to find words. His shoulders slumped slightly.

“Look.” His father finally spoke. “I know she can be … intense at times, but it is because she loves you. She wants you to be safe, to be happy.”

She doesn’t understand! Nicolas wanted to scream it. You don’t understand. You’re stuck in your old-fashioned, outdated ways. The world has changed. You don’t get it.

“I know,” Nicolas mumbled, still looking down.

Nicolas’s father continued to stare at his son for some time. Finally, with a sigh, he returned to his book, a sadness in his eyes.

Nicolas felt a twinge of guilt.

No! Why should he feel guilty? His father was always too busy for him. Now all of a sudden he wants to impart advice? About things he knows nothing about?

That’s not fair, a quiet voice in the back of Nicolas’s mind said. He works hard—all the time—to support his family.

No. Nicolas shook his head. He didn’t want to hear that. He wasn’t a child anymore. It was time his parents realized that—let him make his own decisions. Nicolas stalked out of the room.

* * *

The following weekend, Nicolas walked the street gathering the payments from the designated shopkeepers while Luis walked with him, observing, and offering guidance.

“You are their friend.” Luis smiled pleasantly as he spoke. “Make a little small talk, ask about their families, ask if everything is going well. If they report trouble with one of the shopkeepers, smile and thank them for letting you know. Then let me know.” Luis patted his shoulder. “We have others who are responsible for dealing with any unpleasantness, so your relationship with the shopkeepers can remain unstrained. It’s better for business that way.”

After two weeks, Nicolas was managing the route on his own. Two weeks more and Oscar and Javier began training on their own routes.

It became an easy routine for Nicolas after that; school during the week, then on the weekend he would drive his scooter to Ixtapa to run his route in the morning and collect his pay. In the afternoon he, Oscar and Javier would meet for lunch. They visited all the nice restaurants they were previously never able to afford, eating foods they had only dreamed of tasting.

That was Nicolas’s only splurge; he saved the rest of the money. He gave a little to help his family, but not too much. His mother was suspicious of his new job, so he was careful to avoid revealing just how much he was making, as that would only lead to fighting and yelling; he hated conflict. His mother was too set in her old-fashioned ways of thinking––better to just keep it a secret.

When summer came, Nicolas had expected to be pressed into full-time service with the Templarios. He was surprised when Luis informed him there would be no changes to his responsibilities.

“We will keep things as they are until next year, when you graduate,” Luis had said. “You are management material, Nicolas, not a grunt-worker. Education is of use to you.”

Nicolas tried to get a summer job with one of the shopkeepers he and his friends had worked for previously, but they all nervously declined. Oscar and Javier reported the same experience.

“They all say things are too slow, or they already have someone lined up,” Javier complained during one of their regular weekend lunch meetings.

“Yeah, it seems word of our new employment has gotten round.” Oscar stirred the ice in his glass with his straw. “Maybe they are afraid we’ve been sent to spy on them.”

“It seems rather petty to me,” Nicolas accused, “we were always good workers for them before, and we’re only polite and friendly to the people we collect from. There’s no reason for them to discriminate against us like this.”

“Oh well.” Javier stretched in his chair. “It’s not like we need their money, right? I mean, I make more in a month’s weekends now than I made all last summer.” Javier puffed out his chest. “I’m the hero at home now. We have fresh fruit every day, and meat every week.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Oscar examined Javier’s waist critically. “You’re getting kind of chubby.”

“What?” Javier jumped up and lifted his shirt, examining his middle. Oscar snickered.

“Not funny, man.” Javier shook his head.

“Really?” Oscar’s eyes widened. “Huh, I wonder why Nicolas and I are both laughing then?”

“Seriously though.” Oscar’s expression sobered. “What are we gonna do all summer?”

“How about we all pitch in and rent a boat?” Javier leaned in conspiratorially. “Girls love guys with boats.”

Nicolas laughed out loud.

“What?” Javier asked.

“I don’t know how much you are making, but I’m not making enough to rent a boat.”

“Come on, there’s got to be some we can afford.”

“Yeah,” Oscar chortled, “a canoe or a paddleboard maybe. Girls love guys with yachts, or the big, sexy cigarette boats.”

“Okay, fine.” Javier huffed. “Boogie boards then.”

***

It was the best summer ever. Nicolas and Javier played in the water, sipped drinks, and flirted with pretty young tourists. Oscar made an occasional showing, but never stayed for long. He always had something going on, whether some odd job he had picked up, or a project he was helping his father with. The latter excuse seemed suspicious to Nicolas. He didn’t remember Oscar’s father ever being much for projects.

Returning to school was difficult. Nicolas missed seeing Oscar and Javier every day. All three boys went to different schools, but Oscar and Javier both lived in Ixtapa, and met occasionally during the week. Nicolas felt very alone, living so far away. He had nothing in common with the kids at his school. He’d tried to convince his parents to let him stay with Oscar’s family that school year, but his mother had flatly refused.

He resolved to get out from under her thumb as soon as possible. After he graduated, Luis would give him more responsibilities, he was certain. As soon as he could afford a place in Ixtapa, he would move out, be free of her.

Nicolas: A MissTaken Story - Ch3

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Chapter 3

“Good morning, Sancho.” Luis greeted the shopkeeper with a broad grin. “How are you this morning?”

“Good, thank you, and you?” The shopkeeper returned the warm greeting, as he reached into a drawer and withdrew an envelope. He turned and offered it to Luis.

“Very good,” Luis responded, reaching to take the envelope. “Everything is well, I trust. Any concerns to report?”

“Nothing to report.”

“Excellent.” Luis pocketed the envelope, then gestured to Nicolas. “Allow me to introduce my new associate, Nicolas.”

“Nicolas,” the shopkeeper repeated, extending a hand in greeting. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“And you.” Nicolas shook Sancho’s hand.

“Nicolas will be taking over responsibility for collections on this street.” Luis placed a hand affectionately on Nicolas’s shoulder.

“Diego?” the shopkeeper questioned.

“New assignments.”

“Ah, well. Diego is a good man.” Sancho examined Nicolas closely.

“Yes, yes, he is a good man,” Luis agreed, “as I am sure you will find Nicolas to be as well.”

“Of course.” Sancho inclined his head, smiling.

 “Have a wonderful day, my friend.”

“You as well.” Sancho waved and returned to his work in the shop.

Nicolas followed Luis in silence until they were out of earshot of the shopkeeper.

“That’s it?” Nicolas murmured.

“That’s it,” Luis replied, the corners of his mouth turning up in amusement. “You were expecting something else?”

“Well …” Nicolas searched for words.

“You were expecting perhaps that I would bully him? Make threats? That he would cower, or resist?” Luis chuckled. “You watch too much American TV, Nicolas. We are businessmen, not robbers.”

Nicolas frowned.

“I don’t understand.”

“We keep crime under control in this city. We keep it away from the businesses the tourists frequent.” Luis gestured to the shops around them. “This means more profit for the businesses for two reasons: first, they don’t experience losses from theft, and second, since the city is safe, more tourists come here and purchase from the shops.”

The two crossed the street to the next block and Luis continued, “Naturally it makes sense, if we provide this service to the shopkeepers, they should compensate us, no?”

“Isn’t that what the police are for?”

Luis chuckled.

“The police are the government’s enforcers. Now you want to talk about criminals, the government officials rob everyone. They lie, they take bribes, they live in luxury they haven’t earned. The police pretend to control crime, but they don’t, not really. There is no benefit for them. They make more money taking bribes than they do stopping thieves, and more safely, and for less work.”

“But, you do make the shopkeepers pay.”

“Naturally.” Luis spread his hands. “The service we provide is not like an orange, where one person pays and then eats it. What we do benefits all the businesses. So, it is only fair that all the businesses pay their fair share.”

The conversation paused as Luis greeted another shopkeeper and received an envelope from him.

“You skipped a bunch of shops,” Nicolas said.

“Yes. For each block, we designate one shopkeeper who is responsible for collections for the entire block. It’s more efficient that way. He collects from the block and we collect from him. He will let us know if there are any concerns that need to be addressed, and we take care of them appropriately.”

“So, you do use force sometimes then?”

“Yes,” Luis conceded, “but very rarely. We don’t demand an unfair payment for our services, so most shopkeepers are willing to pay without complaint. Occasionally, there will be a greedy shopkeeper who wants to enjoy the benefits of our service without paying, and so we must—of necessity—take measures to ensure payment is exacted. It wouldn’t be fair to the other shopkeepers if we didn’t, would it?”

Nicolas mulled over Luis’s explanation. His logic seemed sound.

“Yes, I suppose, but isn’t that why people vote for government officials? So they can choose the services they want?”

Luis chucked again.

“Oh, Nicolas, so much to learn, but I suspect you already realize; people don’t really get to choose what they want, do they? They have the illusion of choice, but no real choice. They get to choose between a small handful of candidates, carefully curated by the political parties. The candidates might be opposing sides, but it is still the same coin.”

Another pause for an interaction with a shopkeeper. Luis’s arguments really did seem reasonable, and crime was more controlled in Ixtapa than in the villages elsewhere, where the Templarios didn’t have business interests.

“What about the villages?” Nicolas raised the question once they were walking again.

“What about them?” Luis stopped and gave his full attention to Nicolas.

“They don’t get help from you.”

“Not so, my young friend.” Luis wagged a finger. “Some do, and some do not. Again, I reiterate, this is the nature of business. The villages that produce for us receive services from us. The villages that don’t, don’t.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“What doesn’t seem fair––that those who don’t pay for services don’t get services? You think the government is fairer? They take from everyone and give nothing in return. Is that better?”

“They build stuff,” Nicolas disagreed.

“For themselves, and for their friends. El Presidente for instance, he lives in a very nice home, goes on vacations to exotic countries, drives his cars on paved streets—are the streets in front of your home paved, Nicolas?”

Luis already knew Nicolas lived on a packed dirt road. There was no need to respond to the question.

“No, Nicolas, we at least operate on principles of sound business. We do that which improves profitability, not that which buys votes.”

Nicolas was silent. Luis made sense. Maybe everyone was better off with the Templarios in charge, or at least more people were better off.

“That’s the end of this street,” Luis announced. “You remember the shops we collected from?”

Nicolas bobbed his head affirmatively.

“Good, I will walk with you next week, but you will take the collections. After that, this street will be your responsibility. Here is your payment.” Luis extracted a few bills and offered them to Nicolas.

“So that’s it then?” Nicolas asked. “That’s all I have to do?”

“For now.” Luis nodded. “You will be given other responsibilities in the future, but for now, collect this street each weekend, deliver it to me—I’ll show you where next week––and collect your earnings.”

Luis’ SUV pulled to the curb and stopped. One of the thugs from before, sitting in the passenger seat, got out and opened the rear door for him.

Luis stepped one foot into the SUV, then paused, turning his head to look at Nicolas.

“Did any of your friends wish to work for us as well?”

“Some might. I haven’t checked for sure.”

“Well, if they decide, let me know and we will find work for them.”

Luis climbed into the SUV. The thug closed the door, then got back into the passenger seat.

As the SUV pulled away, Nicolas stared at the money in his hand; he had made close to half as much in an afternoon as his father made working all week.

Glancing around nervously, he slipped the money into his pocket. He pulled out his phone and dialed Oscar’s number as he fairly skipped back down the street to his scooter.

“Yeah,” Oscar grunted.

“Oscar, where you at?”

“With Gaspar, at his dad’s shop.”

“Javier with you?”

“No, he’s running a few errands for one of the other shopkeepers.”

“Call him for me and figure out when we can all get together for lunch. We’re going someplace nice. I’m buying.”

Nicolas ended the call without waiting for a response.

Nicolas: A MissTaken Story - Ch2

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Chapter 2

The week passed quickly—much too quickly. The boys mostly avoided each other, and when they were together, they talked very little. They didn’t want to talk about the Templarios, but that weighed so heavily on their minds that they couldn’t think of anything else to talk about.

The call came on Thursday morning, one week to the hour since the abandoned heist.

“Hello?”

“Nicolas, have you made your decision?”

“My friends don’t have to join, and you will leave them alone so long as I join?”

“You have my word.”

Nicolas exhaled. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“An excellent decision. Please, go outside.”

Nicolas frowned. “You mean my front yard?”

“Yes.”

Puzzled, Nicolas strode through the front room and opened the door. He stepped onto the small porch, paused to look around, then closed the door and walked to the middle of the yard.

The Mercedes SUV drove in front of his house and stopped. A Vespa scooter stopped directly behind it. He recognized the driver of the scooter as one of the goons with Luis that day—he parked the scooter and stepped off.

Nicolas glanced around guiltily. He was glad his family were all elsewhere that morning. His younger sister, Inés, was participating in a cultural activity, and the rest of the family had gone together to watch. Nicolas got out of attending by feigning a stomachache.

The window on the rear door of the SUV rolled down, exposing Luis’ beaming face.

“What do you want?” Nicolas asked warily.

“Just bringing you a gift.”

The thug who had driven the scooter held out his closed hand. Nicolas stared at his hand but didn’t move.

“Here you go.” The thug extended his hand closer to Nicolas.

“What is it?” Nicolas leaned back uncertainly.

“Key to your scooter.”

Nicolas stared blankly at the thug.

“You need your own transportation,” Luis explained.

The thug grabbed Nicolas’s hand, turned it palm up and dropped the key. He closed Nicolas’s fingers around the key and released his hand. Scowling and shaking his head, he opened the passenger door and entered the SUV.

“Be in Ixtapa before noon, Saturday,” Luis directed. “I will call you with your assignment then.”

“What am I supposed to tell my parents about this?” Nicolas gestured toward the scooter.

“Tell them whatever you wish. Tell them it is a gift from a friend.” Luis continued to smile at Nicolas as the tinted window closed. The SUV drove away, leaving Nicolas standing alone in his yard.

Nicolas frowned. They knew where he lived. How did they know? How much did they know about him? About his family? His parents wouldn’t approve of his decision. He was planning to keep it a secret—at least for now. But if they were just going to show up whenever they felt like it …

His phone rang, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Hola.”

“Hey, it’s Oscar.”

“Hey, Oscar, what’s up?”

“Have you heard anything yet?”

“Yeah.” Nicolas looked around guiltily, fearing someone might be eavesdropping on the conversation. “They just left a few minutes ago.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“What did you say?” Oscar’s voice was tinged with impatience.

“I said yes.”

Oscar whistled softly. “For all of us?”

“No, just me. I can’t make a decision like that for the rest of you.”

“I told you I got your back.”

“Yeah, I know. But still.” Nicolas shifted nervously. “You wanna go for a ride?”

“A ride?” Oscar sounded puzzled.

“You home?” Nicolas climbed on the scooter.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there in a couple hours.” Nicolas ended the call and started the scooter.

The drive from Ixlayotla to Ixtapa was thrilling. Nicolas had been on a motorcycle once before, with his father. His father had taught him how to drive it. The scooter was similar enough, and he quickly grew comfortable with its controls and handling.

Nicolas drove faster than was prudent on the winding dirt road leading out of the mountains and to the paved two-lane road, which followed the shoreline south and east to Ixtapa.

He thrilled to the rush of the wind in his face and blurred scenery rushing by. Rather than reduce his speed, he cut the corners on the tight bends. Halfway through one particularly sharp turn, he came face to face with an oncoming car. He swung right, narrowly missing clipping the car’s fender. He was pretty sure that, had there not been a windshield between him and the driver of the car, he could have leaned over and kissed the terrified woman on the cheek.

The tires of the scooter skidded on the dirt road as Nicolas swerved to the left just beyond the car, to avoid flying off the road and down into the ravine on the right-hand side.

As he regained control of the scooter, he noticed the slight adrenaline tremble in his hands. Laughing, he opened the throttle wide again.

The dirt road wound out of the mountains and on to the flat strip of land between the mountains and the ocean. It ended roughly three kilometers from the coast, dumping onto the paved road that followed the coastline. He covered the distance in just barely over an hour, ten minutes or so faster than his family had ever driven it.

A little less than an hour to go. Nicolas grinned; maybe a lot less.

The scenery along the road was drab and dreary, consisting mostly of dry, yellow grasses and small scrubby brush with intermittent clusters of feeble-looking deciduous trees, or lines of sickly palm trees. Occasionally, the drabness of the natural landscape was interrupted by a dilapidated building, accented by crumbling stone and random graffiti.

Nicolas despised this road. He despised the small town he lived in. It was only lush and green for a few brief months, during the rainy season. The rest of the time it was dry and barren, a miserable, boring wasteland.

He despised the slow, boring life in the town. The relatively small number of students in his school and their backward, country-bumpkin way of doing things. He longed for the excitement and energy of the big city––that and the many luxuries available there: the beaches, the swimming pools, the dazzling array of restaurants and clubs, the sophisticated people, the lights, and the energy. Oh, how he longed for that. He sighed as he continued along the road, impatiently racing around an old rusty automobile making its way southward. He stared disdainfully at the old man inside, barely able to see over the steering wheel. Why was that old fool still allowed to drive? He was a hazard, puttering along so slowly.

Nicolas shook his head and sped on. As he approached the city of Pantla, he slowed. Only a few kilometers more to Ixtapa. There were more cars on the road, and he was more likely to run into policía. Technically, he was still on a limited driving permit for one more year. Best not to draw attention.

Minutes later, Nicolas arrived at Oscar’s house on the outskirts of Ixtapa. Oscar was outside, sitting on a chair in the shade of the small porch. Nicolas pulled up in front of the house and Oscar jumped up, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. He crept toward the street as Nicolas stopped, then cut the engine.

“What do you think?” Nicolas glanced from Oscar to the scooter, then back to Oscar.

Oscar scowled. “Where did you get that?”

“From the Templarios.”

Oscar stared at the scooter in disbelief, examining every inch.

“They just gave it to you?”

“Yeah, said I needed a way to commute to Ixtapa.”

“You haven’t even started working yet and they gave you a scooter?”

“Yeah.” Nicolas responded with a single nod. “Wanna go for a ride?”

“Sure.” Oscar shrugged noncommittally, but his eyes glimmered with eager anticipation.

The two boys drove to the pier, and then south on a road that followed the ocean, winding through a lush canopy of trees, finally stopping in a small parking lot next to a heavily forested area.

Hiking a winding trail, they dropped through the forest to a secluded beach. It was a narrow strip of sand, bordered on either side by rocky structures which rose from the ocean and disappeared into the heavy green growth of the forest. The whole of the beach was shaded by a thick canopy of trees. The area was void of activity, save for two young families playing with their children near the lapping waves.

“When do you start working for them?” Oscar queried as the two strolled through the sand down to the water’s edge.

“Next weekend.”

“Just weekends then. He’s not gonna make you drop school?”

“I don’t think so.”

“What’s he gonna make you do?”

Nicolas shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Smuggle drugs?”

“Probably not.” Nicolas squinted. “I mean, we’re too far from the border, right?”

 “Yeah, I guess so.” Oscar frowned, then his eyes lit up. “Do the Templarios have a drug farm near your place? Maybe he’s gonna have you bring product to Ixtapa.”

“On a scooter?” Nicolas looked skeptically at Oscar.

“Oh, yeah.” Oscar’s eyes fell. “Well, shoot. What else could they have you doing?”

“No idea.”

The two stared silently at the ocean for a moment.

“Okay.” Oscar finally broke the silence. “What time do we start?”

“We?”

“Yeah, we. I can’t have your back if I’m not there.”

Nicolas grinned. “It’s just me next weekend, let me find out what’s going on before I drag us both into it.”

“Well,” Oscar dragged the word out, “okay, but try and keep your cool. I know how you tend to fall apart under pressure.”

Nicolas snorted and playfully punched Oscar in the arm. Oscar snickered.

Nicolas grew somber as he stared out at the water again.

“Why?”

Nicolas turned an uncertain gaze to Oscar.

“Why didn’t they just … you know …” Nicolas drew a finger across his throat.

Oscar rubbed his chin.

“You’re pretty smart, Nicolas. Look at the way you handled last weekend. You saw it coming, and you kept us out of jail. You’re the one that came up with all the plans. Me, Javier, Gaspar, we’re just the muscle.”

“Ow!” Nicolas flinched as Oscar punched his shoulder.

“We probably should get going.” Oscar peered at the sky. “Your mom will have a whole litter of kittens if you’re not home by dark.”

Nicolas rolled his eyes and grunted. He turned his head to steal one last peek at the ocean as he followed Oscar into the dense vegetation.

“Speaking of your mom,” Oscar pushed a low-hanging branch out of his way, “what does she think of all this?” He released the branch, allowing it to whip back.

Nicolas threw his arms up just in time to avoid getting slapped in the face by the thin branch. He scowled at Oscar.

“She doesn’t know about any of this, and she’s not going to know about any of it.”

Oscar turned his head, furrowing his brow.

“How exactly are you going to keep the scooter a secret?”

“I don’t know.” Nicolas shrugged. “I guess she’ll know about that, just not anything else. I’ll tell her it was a gift from a friend or something.”

“Right,” Oscar snorted, “because you have so many friends with pockets full of money and more scooters than they can fit in their giant garages. Hey!” Oscar stumbled as Nicolas successfully kicked the bottom of his shoe mid-stride.

“Hey yerself.” Nicolas smirked triumphantly.

“You can be such a punk sometimes.” Oscar shook his head, smiling.

***

Nicolas dropped Oscar at his house, then made the return drive to his own home, arriving just as the sun was setting.

“I’m home,” Nicolas announced as he entered the house. His mother entered the living room from the kitchen, scowling.

“Where have you been?”

“I went to hang out with Oscar.”

“How did you get there?” She looked out the window. “What is that?”

“It’s a scooter.”

“Were did it come from?” She placed her hands on her hips.

“It’s a gift from a friend,” Nicolas responded lamely.

“Who?” his mother demanded.

“Uhm, I got a job, for a private courier company. I am delivering packages for them. They gave me the scooter to do that.”

“What is the name of this company?”

“Mamá,” Nicolas whined, “I don’t know, it’s just a guy.”

“Who?” his mother persisted.

“Luis, Luis Arroya.” Nicolas figured there was no sense making up a name. Maybe Luis would be willing to support his cover story. His mother continued to scowl suspiciously. Finally, with a huff, she turned and went back to the kitchen.

“You’re late for dinner. Everyone has already eaten. There is still beans and rice in the pot, you can have that.”

Nicolas breathed a sigh of relief, though he doubted this was over. She was so overprotective! Didn’t she realize he was almost an adult now?

“Can you give me a ride?” Leticia, his twelve-year-old sister sitting quietly in the corner of the room, had gone unnoticed throughout the conversation with his mother.

“Okay.” Nicolas smiled. “But just around the block.”

Leticia grinned, then jumped to her feet and raced outside.