On the Edge (9 page)

I WASN'T IN THE MOOD TO HAVE A BIRTHDAY
this year. But as the twenty-seventh of April got closer, Iz talked about the plan nonstop. Should we go dancing? Of course. Some drinking? No doubt. A male stripper? Um, no.

I played along, but I didn't see anything worth celebrating—except maybe that I was still alive.

After Lobo's last visit, I'd fallen into a funk. The reality of everything that had happened was finally sinking in. For a while, the thought of Lobo, the mystery and excitement of him, had kept away the depression. But now that I knew he wasn't coming back, the darkness was here to stay.

I stopped seeing Jennifer, the school psychologist. She kept saying that I was depressed and needed meds. She said the meds would carry me through this time until I could deal with all that had happened to me. I couldn't explain to Jennifer that it wasn't just PTSD I was going through, it was heartbreak. Last I checked, meds couldn't fix that.

When I woke up on my birthday, I went to my Facebook page and saw a slew of messages. Ah, the love. Of course, most of those people wouldn't have any clue that it was my birthday if Facebook hadn't reminded them, but I didn't care.

My locker was decorated when I got to school. Unfortunately, it was with little sex toys that I had to tear down and hide before a dean walked by. It was sweet, though. Iz had chosen the theme Birthday Raunchiness, so I should've expected this.

I drifted through my classes, hardly paying attention, and sneaking peeks at my phone. Julia, Manny, Abby, and Carmen—they'd all sent me birthday texts. It was a boost. And I'd take what I could get.

At nine o'clock that night, I showed up at Iz's. She looked me up and down and declared “Perfecto! Absolutely perfecto!” Then she handed me a Maddie Diaz Margarita.

I was glad she approved of my look. I'd bought the black halter dress especially for tonight, pairing it up with black, high-heeled sandals with metallic studs. Birthday Sexy, if not Birthday Raunchy. As for Iz, she rocked a tight purple top, tighter pink pants, red lipstick and a chunky blue necklace. Color-blocking all the way. A walking work of art, as usual.

“Birthday girl!” Abby hugged me. She wore a cute maxi-dress from H&M. “How was dinner with your mom?”

“Awesome. Where's Carmen?”

“Don't speak her name!” Iz hissed. “I'm ready to smack that girl stupid. She had the nerve to call and say she'd meet us at the club later. Can you believe that?”

I shrugged. “It's fine with me.”

“It's not fine,” Iz insisted. “Carmen's overdoin' it. I'm sick of her crashing at my place whenever she stays out late with Rafael. It's getting out of control. Even my parents are starting to get pissed off. She's doubling our water bill with her long showers.”

“Carmen's parents don't even know she's dating anyone,” Abby said.

“And now she blows us off on your birthday? No way. Uh-uh. It's bullshit. I'm gonna tell her when I see her.”

Abby and I looked at each other. We could read each other's minds where Iz was concerned. Iz had gotten into plenty of scraps in her day. She was like a bitch-slapping Speedy Gonzales—small but fast.

“Tell her tomorrow, not tonight,” Abby said. “Let's keep the peace for Maddie's birthday.”

“I'll try. That's all I can say. Now it's gift time!” Iz squealed and grabbed a red gift bag.

“I told you not to . . . ,” I began.

“Just open the damn thing!”

There were two sparkling silver frames with black-and-white pictures. One was of me and Iz sticking out our tongues—just hours after Iz had gotten her short-lived, soon-infected tongue piercing. The other picture was of me and Iz at the beach when we were kids, arms slung around each other.

“They're for your dorm room. I painted the frames myself.”

“These are awesome.” We hugged.

Iz always gave the most thoughtful gifts. I'd have to think of something good for her birthday, and I didn't have much time. It was a week from Sunday, but we'd be celebrating it next Friday.

“Now mine,” Abby said, handing me a gift bag. I looked inside, and laughed when I pulled out purple lingerie.

“I've seen your underwear,” Abby said. “You can't wear Hanes Her Way in college. Even your roommate will disown you.”

I pulled the bra over my chest. “Verra nice.”

“It's got some push-up too.” She pumped her hands. “Wha' wha'. Gotta treat the girls right.”

For the next couple of hours, we gossiped, listened to music, and nodded our heads while Iz bitched about Carmen. Then we caught a cab to the club.

Nostalgica was downtown, near the Miami Dade campus. Pub by day, club by night. The doormen didn't come on until eleven, so we slipped in just in time.

Julia was waiting for us at the bar, casual beautiful in a black tank and jeans. “Happy Birthday, Maddie!” She gave me a big hug.

I noticed Iz bristle. I'd mentioned to her that Julia had visited me while I was laid up, but I hadn't said we'd become good friends. Iz had always been possessive of her friends—of me, in particular—and I knew she wouldn't like it.

“Where's Eric?” I asked Julia.

“He gets off work at midnight. Hopefully. Last week the chef kept him an hour late to drill him on how to sear a scallop.”

“French chefs are hard-core,” Abby said.

“The worst part is that Eric doesn't even mind staying late. He loves that shit. He's a total perfectionist in the kitchen.”

“What about in the bedroom?” I asked, arching a brow.

“He's obviously fantastic—he's my cousin!” Iz said. “That kinda thing is in the blood. Now the question is, he can sear a scallop, but can he cook a clam?”

We all groaned. The Birthday Raunchiness was under way.

One drink and several dirty jokes later, we danced. The floor was already overflowing with underage people like us who'd flooded in before the doormen came.

Julia was an awesome dancer. Her moves were natural, sensual, and Brooklyn smooth. Iz danced like a little powerhouse, arms and legs in the mix. As for Abby, she did her trademark moves—the head-groove, the “wave your hands in the air like you just don't care,” and some lasso throwing. She was a tall, blond beacon, and always got surrounded by short, South American admirers.

At some point, Carmen showed up and joined our circle. Iz checked her watch and glared at her. Carmen brushed it off. She danced all sexy, putting on a show for Rafael. He'd stationed himself at the bar, watching her. It was almost creepy.

Surrounded by my good-looking friends, I didn't expect to have an admirer of my own, but I did. My eyes locked with those of a cute guy and my shy smile gave him permission to come closer. I hadn't thought I was looking for any attention, but I liked it. Soon we were smiling and dancing together. Why not?

But in the back of my mind, I kept thinking of how shallow it was to dance with some random guy when the one I really wanted was out there somewhere. Where was Lobo tonight? Was he thinking about me too?

Lobo's not coming back
, I reminded myself. He'd been all too clear about that. I should move on. It was, after all, my birthday.

Then I remembered something Lobo had said—that if I ever saw him again, I wouldn't know him. What if this guy I was dancing with was Lobo?

“I'm Maddie,” I said into his ear.

“CJ.”

“I love this place,” I said, unable to think of anything else.

“Yeah.” So he wasn't a conversationalist. It didn't matter. Iz always said there was nothing worse than a talky guy. It was one of her many complaints about Rob.

But one thing was sure—this wasn't Lobo. I couldn't picture Lobo coming up to me drunk like this guy. CJ wasn't stumbling yet, but there was a vagueness in his eyes that told me he was getting there.

“Hey, happy birthday,” Eric said, giving me a friendly, but not overly huggy, hug.

“You made it,” I said.

“Course I made it. Iz and Julia would've gone medieval on me if I hadn't.”

CJ hung back as I talked to Eric. He seemed a bit jealous, which was flattering, I guess. But when Eric went over and started dancing with Julia, CJ seemed happy to forget about the interruption.

A Rihanna ballad came on, and the dance floor dissolved into couples. Abby even accepted one of her admirers' requests for a dance. Rob hooked up with Iz, and Rafael grabbed Carmen against him and proceeded to give her a slow, long kiss.

CJ molded his body against mine and went in for a kiss. I ducked my head away, and he ended up planting a kiss in my ear. It felt like a wet willy. I took it as a sign that I was officially done with him. Time for a strategic bathroom exit. “Sorry, CJ, but I have to go to the—”

“Happy birthday, Maddie,” someone said. Despite the loud music, I knew immediately who it was.

Ortiz got between us, his eyes focused squarely on CJ. “Can I take over? Thanks, bro.”

CJ's lips tightened. In a quick second, he assessed Ortiz, then made a smart decision—he backed off. “Go for it,” he said, walking away.

Ortiz slid his arms around my waist as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Once you put on the
ick
face, I thought I'd get rid of him for you.”

Some small part of me melted. But another part of me was annoyed. Didn't he think I could stand up for myself?

“You didn't need to do that. I was about to cut him loose. I'm just glad he didn't take a swing at you. He was pretty drunk.”

“Well, if he comes up behind me with a broken beer bottle, let me know. Anyway, that guy isn't drunk. He's on psychedelics. His whole crew is.” He nudged his chin toward CJ and the two guys he'd joined at the bar. “You can't tell the difference?”

“Ah, no. Never done them myself.”

“Me neither, in case you were wondering.”

“I wasn't.”

His eyes narrowed and he
almost
smiled.

My breath hitched. Ortiz could rattle me so easily, and he knew it. Maybe that was why he'd intervened with CJ—because he thought I was a spaz when it came to guys. And wait a minute—what was Ortiz doing here anyway?

“I meant it,” he said.

“What?”

“Happy Birthday.” He gave me a knowing look. “You made it this far, huh?”

“That's how I'm looking at it.”

Although I hadn't drunk much tonight, I suddenly felt tipsy. I caught the scent of aftershave. Subtle, manly. He didn't have to rely on massive amounts of deodorant spray or slick clothes from the pages of
GQ
to get a girl's attention. He'd look good in a paper sack . . . or nothing at all.

Okay, so Iz was right. I
was
horny as hell.

“What are you smiling about?” he asked, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“I was thinking of a dirty joke Iz told me. I'd tell you, but it's not for virgin ears.”

His smile broadened. “I'm
all
ears now.”

I loved our banter. Didn't want it to end. But the song was fading out, and the electronic beat of a fast song was rising behind it. Maybe if I could get him over to the bar, we could chat a bit more before rejoining the group.

“Can I buy you a drink?” I asked, feeling bold.

“I can't stay.”

Great. Why had I even said that?

“But let me buy
you
a drink before I go,” he offered.

“No, thanks. I'm pacing myself.” I tried not to show what I was feeling. I couldn't believe he'd just gotten here and was blowing me off again. “Early shift in the morning?”

“Yeah, then a boxing match right after.”

So he was being sensible. But I wasn't in the mood for sensible right now. Sensible sucked. This was my birthday, wasn't it?

I forced a smile. “I'm sure you'll kick ass tomorrow.” Then I gave him a
thanks for coming
hug.

I knew immediately that it was a mistake—the friendly hug thing didn't work when you were attracted to someone. I felt his hands pressing into the small of my back, my breasts flattening against his chest. We held each other a little too long, then we both pulled away at the same time.

“Night, Maddie,” he said, maybe with regret on his face. “See you around.”

“THAT WAS SO HOT WHEN ORTIZ TORE YOU AWAY
from that guy,” Iz said an hour later. We were at an all-night greasy spoon for our after-club eats. “I'm surprised he didn't whup the guy's ass in a jealous rage.”

“I didn't see any signs of jealous rage,” I said. “Ortiz is the ice-cold type.”

“That's just what he lets you see,” Abby pointed out. “I thought the whole thing was pretty romantic.”

“He didn't want to see me with someone messed up on psychedelics,” I said. “That falls under the category of civic duty. Maybe he saw the guy tongue-kiss my ear.”

They both made
ew
faces.

“I hear psychedelics are the sickest trip,” Iz said. “They make you hallucinate, you know. He might've thought your ear was an ice cream cone.”

Abby and I burst out laughing just as the waitress brought up our plates. We'd all gotten the restaurant's trademark dish—fries topped with gravy, bacon, and a fried egg. Total grease heaven.

After a couple of minutes of straight eating, Iz came up for air. “Next time you run into Ortiz, you're gonna end up making out with him. Gua. Ran. Teed.” She fanned herself and downed some ice water. “Damn it, where's Rob when I need him?”

“You sent him home,” Abby said.

“Yeah, well, he doesn't do girl talk. Not that Rafael is any better. He's never said two words to me.” Iz glanced meaningfully at the empty seat beside Abby.

“Go easy on her,” I warned. “Carmen's so into him that she doesn't care what we think anymore. If you go after her too hard, she could write us off completely.”

“Write us off after
how
many years of friendship? She wouldn't be that stupid.” But I could tell Iz wasn't so sure.

We turned back to our food. The combo of drinking and dancing always made us ravenous.

“Oh my God.” Abby's face went pale. “Do
not
look.”

“What is it?” I asked, my stomach twisting.

“There's some Reyes here from Rivera. Maddie, if they see you . . .”

I spotted them immediately. One guy and three girls. I tried to remember what Abby had said about the Reyes at her school. They were part of a sub-gang called the Primas. Most of them joined because their older siblings were Reyes, a sign of solidarity.

The waitress was leading them this way.

One of the girls' eyes zeroed in on me. She put an arm out to stop the others. They all looked toward me, eyes widening. They whispered among themselves, then turned and bolted out of the restaurant.

Iz said, “Let's get the fuck out of here before they come back.”

Abby was on her feet immediately. “You think they're going to get their friends?”

“I'm not risking it.” Iz riffled through her purse and threw some cash on the table. “This'll cover us. Let's go.” Iz gave my arm a tug. “
Andele
, baby.”

I wanted to tell them there was no need to go—that I was sure the Reyes weren't coming back. But Iz and Abby hustled me out of there. We ran several blocks in our heels and didn't look back.

As I ran, a feeling of elation swept through me. I knew why the Reyes had run off, and it wasn't to get backup.

They were scared
. I'd seen it on their faces.

Lobo had been right, I realized. The Reyes weren't going to come after me.

But why were they so afraid?

“She's impossible to buy for,” I told Julia the following Wednesday as we left another store.

The mall was alive with people—housewives, homies, tourists. Every store window was plastered with the promise of great sales, but I couldn't find anything that screamed Iz's name, or even whispered it. And her birthday party was two days away.

“Ah, c'mon. Everybody wants something.” Julia had a chill vibe, as always. She sipped her new favorite drink, a mocha latte blanco. I'd introduced her to it.

“That's the thing. Iz has everything she wants. And if she can't afford to buy it, she freaking makes it herself with a stick, a ribbon, and a can of paint.”

Julia smirked, but I was dead serious.

We scanned the stores. I should've gotten my act together sooner, of course, but I'd been distracted—more like
obsessed
—with last Friday night's surreal incident. Seeing a group of Reyes run from a possible confrontation was a first. I knew that Lobo must be behind it. But how had he managed to keep them away from me? What could he have possibly done to scare them off?

My mind spun with questions. No answers came. Just the echo of Lobo's voice reassuring me:
It doesn't matter, Madeleina. You're safe now
.

“Maddie?”

“Sorry, what?”

“What about a gift card to the craft store?”

“It's a good idea, but . . .”

“But what?”

“I just feel I should do something special, like she did for me. But I'm not crafty at all.”

“I'm pretty sure she knows that by now,” Julia said, obviously amused by the whole thing. “You're all riled up about this gift, aren't you?”

“I guess. I want to pay her back for wading through the shit with me, you know?”

She slanted me a look. “No gift can pay her back for that. You can only pay her back by standing by her. By being a real friend.”

I cracked a smile. “You'd be great at writing greeting cards.”

“True, that.” Julia sighed. “Let's keep looking, then. We still have an hour till the mall closes. But I'll need another latte.”

Time always flew by with Julia. There were endless things to talk about. She put a cool spin on even the most mundane topics.

My phone vibrated. A text from Iz.

I figured it was a good choice of words, because it sounded like I was
picking up
something specific, not cruising the mall cluelessly two days before her party.

That's all I needed. More pressure.

“So you know I'm gonna bring up
your
birthday,” Julia said as we were browsing an art supply store. “And you know why.”

“Mr. Hot and Cold, I presume.”

“Bingo.”

I glanced at her, trying to gauge what she knew. “Why did he show up for all of ten minutes?”

“That's what I wanted to ask you. He met up with Eric after work. Told him he just wanted to drop in to say hi to you. It looked like you were getting pretty cozy on the dance floor.”

“Not really. He just cut in to save me from a guy on psychedelics.”

“The act of a modern Prince Charming.” She sobered. “I hear psychedelics are the shit now. Some cartel brought them in to put the local kingpin out of business.”

I expected to hear this stuff from Manny, not Julia. “You're in the know.”

“I make it my business to be. There's no point in being innocent, Maddie. It's the best way to get caught in the crossfire.”

“Sounds like a little Brooklyn PTSD.”

She shrugged. “Not a little.”