Boycotting Blue

20/Blue

Blue

I woke up in the warehouse, dazed and disoriented. Rodriguez was on the laptop, and it was silent, except for a bird chirping outside the window.

    “Shit,” I said, stretching and surveying. We were the only ones in the room—

     Except for Lou.

     She was passed out on a bean bag chair, fast asleep, covered in the blanket I had when I was younger. She slept peacefully, eyes shut, mouth in a small ‘o.’ Her hair pooled around her, half of it falling into her face. I could see the bottom of her feet sticking out. She was wearing black Jordans.

    Rodriguez looked up. He wasn’t smoking this time. Instead, a half-lit cigarette was at his side. I glared at him accusingly. “What’s she doin’ here?” I demanded.

    He shrugged. “The boys brought her in last night. She apparently went for a walk and ended up here.”

   I didn’t want to believe him, but it was such a Lou experience. That would only happen to her. “So you kept her here?”

    He nodded. “It was four in the morning, and she was falling asleep. I couldn’t send her back in case she got lost.” He gave me a look. “She isn’t hurt, Blue.”

    I looked over her again. No, she was breathing evenly. “Did she have anything to smoke? Drink?”

    He shook his head. “No. I even stopped smokin’ around her. It made her cough in her sleep.”

    Que? Rodriguez was not the caring type. What in the fuck did he have on Lou that he was taking care of her? Any other  person would’ve been dead by now. Or sold to some guy as a slut. But not Lou. It had to be that sweet face. “Why do you care?” I asked suspiciously, keeping my voice down.

   He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t. But you do.” That was all the explanation he offered up. “You know where I’m staying. Go shower and change clothes, then you can wake her up and bring her to su casa.”

   I was not about to leave her here.

  “She was fine with you here—she’ll be fine for another ten minutes, Blue.” He gave me a look, motioning for me to leave. “Go. Vamos. If she wakes up, I’ll call you.”

   I blinked, undecided. I didn’t want to leave her. I didn’t trust him. But I couldn’t go around her smelling like mota…not that it mattered. Anything we had was gone. Ruined. Because I had gotten caught. I gave her a final look—she didn’t look like she’d be sleeping any time soon.

   I took off down the street. This wasn’t the best of neighborhoods, but I was safe.

   I opened the door to the house where Rodriguez was staying, trying to tell myself I wasn’t getting any special treatment. He would let anybody here. He would take care of anybody’s chica.

   You know that’s not true.

    I pushed it to the back of my mind. I had done enough lately and gotten into enough trouble for him. He owed me. This was the least he could do for me.

     It was a small, one-level casa, not one of the luxurious ones he usually owned. I showered in the small bathroom, careful to wipe all traces of mota off of me. I searched through Rodriguez’s clothes, finding the smallest thing he had in there—a hoodie and a pair of jeans. I let mis huevos go free—I didn’t wear other men’s underwear. As it was, the too-big clothes felt awkward coming off my body.