Chapter 19

Nineteen

He headed for the Hawthorne House first. The plan had been to move into Titus's the following weekend, but his sudden termination had ramped things up. Pedro wanted to be with Titus, out of town, and as far away from Compton's Greenscapes as possible. He would swing by Barb's first, grab his stuff, and then head out to T's and safety behind the gate. Titus would know what to do. Gathering his belongings first would also allow some time for Pedro to collect himself. If Titus saw how upset he was, Silas may not live to see the afternoon.

Pedro pulled into the boardinghouse's parking lot, braking in the gravel with a roaring crunch. He sprang from the truck and ran up the steps. When he opened the door, he was startled to find Barb standing there on her way out. Her eyes went wide with concern. "What happened?" she said, pulling him inside and shutting the door behind them.

Pedro's face cracked, and the tears came. The sound and privacy of a closed door had triggered an emotional eruption he hadn't realized he was suppressing. He was terrified, confused, and paranoid, unable to shake that last image of Silas in the doorway.

"Are you hurt?" Barb asked. "What's going on?"

"Silas fired me," he gibbered. "No paperwork. They're coming, Barb. Just like Carlos. He's sending me back. He sends us all back."

The ramble was near impossible for Barb to decipher, but she could see how frightened he was. And the name Silas was all she needed to hear.

She crossed to a table and telephone. "I'm calling Titus."

"No," he said, almost shouting. "Titus will kill him, Barb. I can't lose him. He's all I have."

Barb froze, considering, then put the telephone back in its cradle. "You're right. Titus is prone to do something rash. Are you in danger? Should I call the police?"

"No. I just came here to get my stuff."

"You're leaving?"

He took a deep breath to compose himself, then nodded. "Yes. I'm sorry, Barb. We were planning to tell you over dinner later this week. This is my last month with you here at Hawthorne House. I'm moving in with Titus."

Her face brightened. "Oh. Oh, yes. Of course you are. I knew it wouldn't be much longer. I'm thrilled for you both."

"Thank you," Pedro said, eyes darting to the stairway and then to the front door. "Can we talk while I get my stuff together, though? Now that I'm officially unemployed, I'm moving out there today. I don't really feel safe here in town anymore."

"Certainly. I'll help you pack."

Pedro had very few belongings. No furniture. Only clothing, toiletries, some stationery, a dozen books, and a television. Everything he owned would easily fit in his truck.

"You know," Barb said, folding a t-shirt and placing it in the open suitcase, "I'm going to miss you. I mean, I know we'll still see each other, but good long-term tenants are few and far between, especially ones that form book clubs with me."

"I want to keep going with that. I feel bad that I've been slipping these past few months."

"Nonsense. You've had a lot of excitement here lately. I'm happy for you and T. He's my big brother. Now, you will be, too."

"I would like that. I hope I'm doing the right thing, though."

"Of course, you're doing the right thing. Whatever put that thought in your head?"

Pedro sighed, sitting down on the bed. "I want to be there for him, Barb. I do. He's just got so much going on. I don't want to be a hindrance."

"A hindrance?!"

"Yeah. I think he really wants to do the mayor thing. Follow in his father's footsteps, and all. What if he's being hesitant because of me?"

Barb sat down next to him. "Let me give you some perspective. I've been hounding T to pursue a political endeavor ever since Violet died–locally, that is. He's the perfect candidate, really. He came from a prominent family, he was a local hero, and he's the current mayor's son. I can't think of a better resume for the job."

"What about you? You're from the same family?"

Barb chuckled. "Me? I couldn't deal with it. Too many good old boys. Hell, I need you just to avoid dealing with creeps like Stanley at the hardware store."

"You're only avoiding confrontation because it's easier. We both know you could put Stanley in his place. You're a strong woman, Barb. Smart."

"I won't disagree with you. But I'm also smart enough to know what will fly. It may be 1995, but it's still a man's world, especially in the south. Not only am I a woman–I'm a gay woman. That's two strikes against me."

"Titus is gay too. What makes you think he has a chance?"

"Because he's a white man in a white man's world. That pretty much trumps everything else. You know that as much as I do. Maybe even more so."

"But I'm not Violet. Let's say he could get elected, that people would turn a blind eye toward his orientation and vote strictly based on his history. Do you think they'd do the same with me as his boyfriend –a Mexican? I have strikes against me, too, Barb. We have that in common, no?"

She gaped at him. "You really don't know your power, do you?"

"Power? I make flowers grow. Others can, too. It doesn't make me indispensable."

"That's just it. You are indispensable. Titus couldn't win an election without you. Don't you see? If you hadn't come along, he would still be hiding out there on Sun Hill Road, moping by the pool and feeling sorry for himself. You're a miracle. All you did was show up one day and presto-chango, Titus was suddenly out of his self-imposed exile. I couldn't do that. Roz couldn't. His daddy. Hell, even a letter of permission written by his dead wife couldn't do the trick. You're the one , Pedro. You're the only reason all of this is happening. It's pretty incredible when you think about it. You're incredible. Fuck Silas."

Pedro smiled. He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. "Thanks. I needed that."

"I hope you know it's more than just a pep talk. It's true. All of it. If Titus decides to run and gets beat, well, so be it. We'll all just pack up and move to Macon. Or maybe Atlanta."

Pedro winced. "He would hate that."

"Yeah, me too. I think we're stuck here."

"It's not so bad. I may have to work for you, though, to maintain my visa."

"If I could afford to hire you, I would in a minute. But you belong outside. That's where your passion is. Something will come along, you'll see."

"I hope so. Titus's muse or not, if I don't get a sponsor soon, I'll be back in Mexico before you can say… booty call."

Barb's brow furrowed with bemusement. "What on earth?"

"Never mind. It's a dumb joke." Pedro reached for his wallet. "I'm going to pay you for the rest of the month. It's the least I can do for leaving on such short notice."

He extended a handful of cash, and Barb pushed it back toward him. "No. You'll do no such thing. Ever since you two met, you've barely been here a couple nights a week. If anything, I owe you."

Pedro hesitated, uncomfortable with her charity. Finally, he caved. "OK," he said, "but I'm leaving the television. Titus has three. I don't need it. Maybe you can raise the rental price by including it for the next tenant. Deal?"

She smiled. "Deal."

They made a quick sweep of the room to see if he was forgetting anything before Pedro zipped up his luggage.

"I think that's all."

Pedro carried both suitcases, and Barb followed him down the stairs.

"Thank you again for everything," he said.

"You're welcome. I'm going to miss our morning coffee chats."

"Me too."

He stopped at the front door, putting the bags down to embrace her.

Barb returned the hug, squeezing him reassuringly. "Just take a deep breath and keep calm. Everything's going to be fine. You'll see."

"I'm trying. All I wanted to do was work hard and build a life here in the States. Especially now, in Spoon, with Titus."

They parted. Barb reached out, cupping his cheek softly. "Titus will figure out a way to make it all work. If there's one thing I know, he's determined. Once he sets his mind to something, he's as stubborn as a pit bull. Don't you worry about a thing."

"I'll try not to." Pedro smiled. "I promise. You're the best."

He picked up the bags, and Barb opened the door for him. Outside it stood a sheriff's deputy, his hand reaching for the doorbell. He was a tall man, crisply uniformed, with mirrored sunglasses.

"Are you Pedro Torres?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. I am."

"Then you're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…"