Nicolas: A MissTaken Story - Ch4

  (Landing page with info and list of sample chapters)

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.