The Bad Boy's Chain

Chapter Three, Part One - Burn

It wasn't really a date, but with my hands wrapped tight around Carlos' waist, it was easy to pretend. When the motor cycle slowed to a stop I hopped off the bike and pulled off the helmet, mindful at once of how poorly my hair must have responded to the ride. I removed the rubber band, shaking out my curls. 

"Hermosa." Carlos winked in confirmation, walking his bike backwards. I caught up with a shy smile, following him to a secluded patch of trees. He chained his bike to a sapling and we were off, headed for the quiet, upscale neighborhood on the corner–Majestic Falls.

I didn't have the courage to question what we were doing in the middle of a neighborhood which greeted visitors with a No Loitering sign and a giant bubbling fountain. Instead, I focused on simpler things, like the curve of Carlos' mischievous grin and the jet-colored ringlets that fell across his smooth brow.

"You keep checking your phone, like you're worried someobody's gonna check up on you." Carlos shot a wry glance from the side. "Lemme guess, you haven't told homeboy about us."

"You're right, Detective, I didn't tell Jess. He doesn't want me helping--or hanging out with you."

If Carlos was surprised or insulted, he did a bang-up job hiding it. "Look, I get that you're his sister--"

"Step. Definitely not related."

"Whatever you are, you're grown, Mary. You make your own decisions, choose your own path, create your own destiny--all that good shit. But it stops being fun when you start letting other people choose for you."

Put him in a skirt and he's Oprah. Why do all boys think they know everything? "Thanks, but Jesse does not rule my life."

Carlos stopped walking. "Oh, really? Well, if that's true, why not tell him about us?"

"Because he would stop me if he knew I was here. That's it." Are we done with the third degree?"

"Really?"

"Yeah. Really."

"Let's hope so. I can't work with you if I can't trust you... partner."

We took a left at the next intersection, crossing the street headed west. The sun was long gone, replaced by a jolly white moon, fat and round as Santa's belly. The clouds were our only cover as we stole across the sweeping lawn of the last house on the corner. All lights were off, no foreign cars parked in the drive. The house was alone for the weekend, so Carlos claimed.

"My sister, Elena, works for a cleaning service that pays minimum wage to scrub rich people's toilets. What they don't pay for is the sexual harassment--bastardos." Carlos glared at the shuttered windows above. "The puto who lives here--he's married, with kids. This pig came on to my sister, threatened to get her fired if she told anyone."

"Wow. I'm sorry, Carlos, that's awful."

"It's the real world. What happens next is justice." He hoisted his backpack higher on his shoulders, scanning the home's brick walling. We stood on the pristine white concrete of the back patio, near the owner's carefully trimmed rosebushes.

I peered through the home's darkened windows, to the stationary silhouettes beyond. "So what's the plan?"

"First, we disable the security system. My sister says they have cameras inside." Carlos fished something from his backpack. A second later he slipped on a pair of gloves, tossing me a spare set. I trailed close behind, his loyal apprentice, peering over his shoulder as he found the circuit box and cut off the power. "Yahtzee." He dug a key from his pocket, using it to unlock the patio door.