8. Eight

Carlos

I leave the hotel, badly wanting the night to end so I can take a hot shower and get a short nap before figuring out how I am going to get to that auction in time. It"s in Florida and it would take way too long to drive there. I needed to be on a flight five hours ago and it would be better if I was on a plane without any layovers. I need to make a few phone calls after I"m done meeting Malcolm's friend at some hole in the wall place.

I was told in the instructions not to get out of the car, so I pull in the back of the club, driving a little past the dumpster. A red and black motorcycle slowly approaches me with a man dressed in black wearing a pink helmet riding it. I roll down my window and he pulls up beside it with most of his face covered and only his eyes visible. "Are you Lo?"

I nod and hand him the envelope filled with money. "You can count it if you want, it"s all there."

He spreads the envelope apart with his fingers, glancing inside before sliding it beneath his coat. He pulls out another envelope, handing it to me and when I try to grab it, he quickly tugs it away. "This is the invite you"ll need to get inside the event, and inside is also your new identification card and passport. When you arrive in Florida, you will no longer be you and will become Brian Masters." He lets go of the envelope the next time I reach for it. "It"s a pleasure doing business with you and a little word of advice? Try not to want it too bad or everything will go south real fast. Desperation leads to thoughtless actions." He starts his bike back up, hitting the gas and rides off toward the road.

This is the reason I"m the one going after Joey instead of Isaiah. He wants this more than anyone in the world. I"m only doing this as a favor for a friend, at least that"s what I keep telling myself. I can"t let Isaiah mean to me what he did all those years ago. I have to continue to separate my feelings. It is better for us if I did, better for Joey.

Splashes of water hit my windshield and I roll up my window as the rain begins to pour down harder. An upbeat song fills the car when I turn on the radio as I drive toward one of our rentals. I often stay in one when I am doing more dangerous jobs, worried I"ll be followed.

After a while, constantly being on the go and rarely ever being able to go home was wearing me thin. The older I got, the more I missed those simpler times when I would lay in bed listening to the rain fall against the roof while Isaiah nudged against my chest. The soft sounds of water hitting glass seemed more soothing than they do now, crashing hard against the windshield, working against the fast moving wipers.

The roads grow darker the closer I get to the duplexes and the rain slows down as I pull into one of the driveways of the vacant homes. Other than my keys, phone and wallet, I don"t bring much with me–only the burner phone. I don"t want to use my phone to call Isaiah. We didn"t need to have any more traceable phone calls between us.

The duplex is dark and warm when I get inside. I can tell it"s been a while since anyone"s been here. I pull the new phone from my pocket, dialing the number of the one I gave Isaiah. The phone rings three times before a raspy voice comes on the other end. "Hola?"

"Justo donde te dejé," I whisper into the phone, the same way I used to back then when he would wake up beside me or be waiting for me against the brick wall.

"Carlos?"

"Si. How are you holding up?"

"What do you think? You couldn't have timed things more perfectly. I was just about to contact you. When you get a minute, I want you to check the garage of the duplex you're staying in. One of your brothers left you a little present. You won"t need your car anymore or the clothes you are wearing."

My eyes widen. "I guess this wouldn't be the first time you tried to get me out of my clothes. I have to admit, old age has made you more creative."

He laughs. "Listen. In the trunk you will have everything you need. Money, clothes, fake IDs, and passports in case you end up needing them, and a map to one of my father"s jet locations. There's also a list of a few of the clubs and secret brothels the Mendez brothers run down there. There will be a pilot waiting for you when you get there, and you will be departing the minute you get securely on board. Leave the keys in the car and someone will be there to collect it."

"Someone's been busy. Are you sure you need my help?" I ask, grinning.

"Finding out information is the easy part. What you're about to do is where it will get tricky and listen to me when I tell you there's no better man for the job. Oh and Carlos, do try and hurry. After all, the early bird gets the worm."

"Even after all these years, you're still trying to boss me around. Don't worry, I'm already getting in the car. Anything else before I go?"

"Yes, the man with the scar on his face works for Santana and goes by the name El Portero. He makes sure the drugs and product get to their final destination safely. Things are about to go very wrong for him when the next delivery doesn't make it there safely and he gets a load of produce instead. Hopefully it helps give you a bit of a head start."

I smile wide. "You always liked to stay ahead of me. Some things never change."

"Some things never should. It's why we worked so well together. I started and you finished."

I grab the map from the trunk of the car and slide into the driver side, slamming the door shut.

"Looks like it's my turn to complete the cycle then. I'll talk to you soon and hopefully next time we speak, I'll have your boy." The other end goes dead silent and the car hums when I start the engine drowning out the quiet. I slide the phone in my pocket, driving out of the garage. I park on the side of the street, keeping the engine running while I drive my car into the borrowed vehicle's place. The garage door rattles as it comes down behind me. I slide back into the driver's seat, not wanting to waste any more time. The engine roars when I put my foot on the gas and I speed down the dark, narrowing road.

There's a guy standing by the jet when I arrive at the location circled on the map. I grab everything I need from the trunk. The suitcase filled with clothes and the bag full of money weighs heavy in my hand as I enter the plane. The pilot smiles at me from the front of the plane. "We shall arrive in Florida in a few hours. I was told to make sure you eat something before we get there. You don't want to arrive there hungry. Also there will be a car waiting for you."

I stare at the name engraved on the seats and read the name out loud. "Juventino."

Who else would have their own jet? Not only had Isaiah made contact with my brother, he went home and was welcomed with open arms by his family. Things really have changed.