What Weevil Knows
"She asked me to come to midnight mass with y'all?" Charles asked, sounding surprised. Weevil wished he didn't sound so surprised; it was proof that Charles wasn't in it for the long run. One day, he was simply going to be gone, and Weevil didn't want that. He didn't know why, and he didn't want to think about it, but Charles leaving would be bad. Almost as bad as Lilly...and Weevil didn't think about that, either.
"She said, 'tell that friend of yours that if he can eat my empanadas and play video games in my house all night, he can be part of the familia for Christmas,'" Weevil replied with an almost-casual shrug. "It's not so bad. Mass is boring, but we go get donuts and hot chocolate afterward."
Anyone else, that would be a good thing, even kind of funny. But Charles got this look on his face, almost like he wanted to disappear. Weevil wanted to take the words back. Who was this guy who got upset thinking about Christmas and donuts and family? Why did he get up in Weevil's shit so much?
"Sounds great, man," Charles said vaguely. "Sure, I'll come. Don't want to be disrespecting your grams."
"Good," Weevil said. "You up for some San Andreas?"
"Hell yeah," Charles answered, sounding awake again, smiling like nothing had happened. "I want to unlock the Vegas part already, bro, so you need to stop fucking around."
"Me? Who spent two days fucking around with pipe bombs and hos?" Weevil replied as they opened the heavy screen door and let the metal slam behind them. "You'll see who's fucking around when I've got you pinned down with my stolen plane, yo."
"I'll believe that when I see it," Charles answered, laughing.
Charles had been around for about four months now. Weevil didn't know where he lived, where he came from, or what he did to pay the bills. All he knew that homeboy was tight, could beat the shit out of anyone who got in his face, and had this way of smiling that made everything seem like it was going to be okay.
Weevil told him everything; about Lilly, about Veronica, about all the shit in his life, and Charles listened. Not like he was spending all his time crying into his beer like some hijo de puta or a little girl; mostly him and Charles hung out, played video games, drank a few beers, and that was it. Shit just came up while they were hanging out was all. And everyone liked Charles, even though they didn't like he didn't talk about himself so much.
"I bet he deals," said Weevil's cousin knowledgeably. "Ask him if he can score us some good shit."
"I bet he killed someone up in LA," said someone else. "Like, some ese in a gang or shit. I bet you that's it. You keep an eye on yours when you're out with this homeboy, right?"
But this, like so much his friends and family said, was bullshit. Charles dealing drugs was so stupid that Weevil laughed in his cousin's face, and if Charles had had to run from LAPD, Weevil knew it was damn sure not his fault. Some days, the temptation to ask Veronica to check Charles out -- just so he could shut everyone the fuck up about him -- was almost overwhelming. But then they'd be hanging out and Chuck would get a big ol' shit-eating grin on his face about something funny, and Weevil knew whoever he used to be, he was all right now.
"Eli?" and Weevil jumped because nobody called him Eli, not even his grandma most of the time, and it was Charles again. "You looked a thousand miles away."
"Just thinking," Weevil said.
"About?"
"You," Weevil said, and for some reason, it seemed like the only thing to say, the best thing he could have said. And Charles didn't pull back this time the way he could have, like Weevil would expect him to because that's how Charles was. Protecting himself against something so bad that the only way to live with it was not to think about it at all.
Charles didn't kiss him, the way it might happen on some stupid teen drama with the big rush of music and the happy smiles and the knowing all along it was really this way, even though boys kissing boys didn't happen except on pay channels and shit. Instead he took Weevil by the shoulders and bumped his bald-ass forehead against Weevil's bald-ass forehead, which was better and worse than a kiss.
"You gotta watch yourself, bro," Charles said, and he was happy and sad at the same time, and too close for comfort and needed to be closer but this was okay. "Some roads, you can't ride even with the best bike out there."
"I'm not afraid of a little trouble," Weevil said. "Some things, they're worth the trouble."
"Not you. I know you're...it's me. I'm afraid," Charles said. "I got out of LA because I lost everything for the second time. I promised myself there'd never be anything to lose again. Not ever."
Weevil shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere," he said. "And I'm not afraid."
This time, Charles did pull away, and for the first time, Weevil didn't like what he saw. "You don't get it," he said. "There's shit out in the world, it's shit nobody can handle. It's uglier and stronger than anything and it doesn't give up."
"Then why don't we fucking put guns to our heads and get it over with now?" Weevil asked, angry. "Maybe I could go see Lilly again, chill with her out where she is. You think I don't know what evil is? I've seen all kinds of fucked up shit, so bad I wanted to die. I get it just fine. You're scared; that's fine. But don't tell me I don't know. Don't tell me that."
The sound of Charles slamming the door, Weevil nearly killing his cousin by tripping over her, it was all nothing after the silence that followed. Didn't matter; what mattered was that Charles was leaving him, leaving like Lilly left and Weevil didn't want anyone else to leave.
But if Charles stayed gone, if the worst happened, this time he was going to know why. Nobody was ever going to get the truth of why Lilly was gone, but he knew a girl who knew about needing to know why. And she took cases for cheap.
"Hey, Veronica," Weevil said into the receiver as his favorite white girl answered the phone acerbically. "I got someone I need you to check out for me."