Perfect Chemistry

I’m eating breakfast the morning after Brittany’s ware house visit when I glimpse a shaved head peeking through my front door.

“Paco, if that’s you I’d stay the hell away from me,” I call out.

Mi’amá slaps me on the back of my head. “That’s no way to treat your friends, Alejandro.”

I go back to eating while she opens the door for that . . . traitor.

“You’re not still mad at me, Alex,” Paco says, “are you?”

“Of course he’s not mad at you, Paco. Now sit down and eat. I’ve made some chorizo con huevos.”

Paco has the gall to pat me on the shoulder. “I forgive you, man.”

I look up then, first at mi’amá to make sure she isn’t paying attention, then at Paco. “You forgive me?”

“You’ve got yourself a real fat lip, Paco,” she says, examining the damage I’d done to it.

Paco touches his lip lightly. “Yeah, I fell onto a fist. You know how it is.”

“No, I don’t. You fall onto too many fists you’re going to end up in the hospital one day,” she warns, shaking her finger at him. “Well, I’m going to work. And Paco, keep away from fists today, sí? Lock up before you go out, Alejandro, porfis. . . .”

I glare at Paco.

“What?”

“You know what. How could you have brought Brittany to the ware house?”

“I’m sorry,” Paco says as he chows down on our food.

“No, you’re not.”

“Okay, you’re right. I’m not.”

I watch in disgust as he uses his fingers to scoop food up and shove it into his mouth.

“I don’t know why I put up with you,” I say.

“So what happened with you and Brittany last night?” Paco asks while following me outside.

My breakfast is threatening to come up, and it’s not due to Paco’s eating habits. I grab his collar. “It’s over between Brittany and me. I don’t even want to hear her name again.”

“Speak of the dev il,” he says, craning his neck. I release Paco and turn around, expecting to see Brittany. But she isn’t there and the next thing I know Paco’s fist is in my face.

“Now we’re even. And boy, have you got it bad for Miss Ellis if you’re threatenin’ me if I use her name. I know you could kill me with your two hands,” Paco says, “but I got to admit . . . I don’t think you’d do it.”

As I test my jaw, I taste blood. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that. Tell you what. I won’t kick your ass if you stop interferin’ in my life. That means with Hector and Miss Ellis.”

“I got to tell ya, interferin’ in your life is what keeps me goin’. Hell, even the beatin’ my old man gave me last night when he was shit-faced drunk doesn’t give me as much entertainment as your life.”

I lower my head. “I’m sorry, Paco. I shouldn’t have hit you. You get it enough from your old man.”

Paco murmurs a “don’t sweat it.”

Last night was the first time I’ve regretted using my fists on anyone. Paco has gotten beat up so many times by his old man, he probably has permanent scars on his body. I’m a complete asshole for hitting him. In a way I’m glad it’s over between me and Brittany. I’m unable to control my feelings or emotions when she’s near.

My only hope is that outside of chemistry I can avoid her. Yeah, right. Even if she’s not with me, thoughts of her are always in my head.

One good thing about my breakup with Brittany—it’s given me time these last two weeks to think about my father’s murder. The night is starting to come back to me in flashes. Something doesn’t fit, but I can’t figure it out. My dad smiled, talked, and was shocked and nervous when the gun was pulled on him. Shouldn’t he have been wary all along?

Tonight is Halloween, the night Hector chose for the drug deal to go down. All day I’ve been restless. I’ve worked on seven cars today, from giving an oil change to replacing worn-out, leaky gaskets.

I left Hector’s gun in my bedroom drawer, not wanting to pack heat until I absolutely have to. Which is actually stupid because this will be the first of many drug deals I’ll be doing in my lifetime.

You’re like your old man. I shrug off the voice inside my head that’s been plaguing me all day. Como el Viejo.

I can’t help it. I remember all the times my papá said Somos cuates, Alejandro. You and me are the closest. He always spoke Spanish, as if he was still in Mexico. Someday you gonna be strong like your padre? he’d ask in Spanish. I always looked up to my father as if he was a deity. Claro, Papá. I want to be like you.

My father never said to me I could be better or do better than him. But tonight I’ll prove I’m a carbon copy of my old man. I tried to be different by telling Carlos and Luis they can have a different path. I’m an idiot to think I’ve been a role model to them.

My thoughts drift to Brittany. I’ve tried to forget Brittany will be going with someone else to the Halloween dance. I heard she was going with her old boyfriend. I try to push out of my mind the fact that another guy will have his hands on her.

Her date will kiss her tonight, I’m sure of it. Who wouldn’t want to kiss those sweet, soft, frosted lips?

I’m going to work tonight until I have to leave for the deal. Because if I was home alone, I’d go nuts thinking about everything.

My grip on the riveter in my hand loosens and it drops smack in the middle of my forehead. I don’t get pissed off at myself, I blame Brittany. And by eight o’clock I’m as angry as anything with my little chem partner, whether it’s warranted or not.