1952

The day was hot, sticky, and everything Luto loved.

A hot day meant pedal pushers, and he enjoyed the tight hug of thin fabric on a girl's figure. He enjoyed it so much that often he had become distracted while out on deliveries, resulting in his termination from Lickety Split Delivery Company. Turns out, it was hard to make deliveries and chase tail at the same time.

What made things harder was that the girls never said yes right away. Maybe a few, but not enough.

Never let a woman push you around.

Papi had lived by the motto, fully exemplified when he had walked out on the family because Genea couldn't stop running her mouth.

Luto hadn't even been mad at the man. Staying true to himself and living by his own rules...it was admirable, and he wanted to be just like papi.

As a recent high-school dropout, he was well on his way to fulfilling his father's legacy. Though, he could never seem to get the upper hand on the women in his life. Titi Carmen and Camila didn't respect him, and that bothered him. If he couldn't be who his father said he should be, then who was he?

At the moment, he could call himself a city cab driver. Genea had shown herself to be good for something by putting in a good word for him at papi's old workplace.

"Your pop knew this town like no other, but he skipped out on me. You ain't gonna do that, right?" His boss, Gus, had asked of Luto only a few hours before, dangling a set of keys.

Snatching the keys, Luto had shook his head, grinning. He was only half committed to the answer. He never intended to mess up, but he knew the possibility was always just around the corner, and life had so many corners.

So far, he had learned the obvious fact: driving a cab was way harder than biking around the city. He had only been at it for three hours, and already, he realized it was all about being pushed around by other people, women included. People would get in the backseat and start rattling off an address.

If Luto didn't start driving right away, some people yelled at him, or took it as a cue to dictate directions.

"Cállate!" he had shouted at his third fare of the day, a bimbo in a blue pinstripe dress and hat.

Her startled face had registered shocked at his tone, but of course, her white skin meant that she didn't understand the Spanish word for "shut up." However, context was enough to get her to do just that. He had worried that he would get in trouble, but when she had tossed some money at him on her way out of the cab, his worry lessened.

Around 3 pm, he drove past his old high school, intent on showing off. None of his friends were walking home, but he did spy two familiar sets of pedal pushers: Alondra and Camila.

Though she didn't attend school, Camila arrived at the end of the day to walk Alondra home. To Luto, it was pathetic.

Pulling up from behind his cousins, he thought nothing of how pathetic Camila was, and only at the waste of such a body on such a sour girl. Alondra, on the other hand, was shaping up to be a good chica.

Luto had gotten shy kisses out of her on occasion, and first base wasn't bad. Eating his father's motto, he planned on working her until he hit a homerun.

Camila presented another problem entirely. She was more like a challenge. He just had to find the right time.

He felt like she was softening toward him. Last week, she had shocked the hell out of him by presenting him with a painting. When he'd asked her what it was for, she had merely pointed at him.

"Me? This is for me?"

She had nodded.

He had stared at the swirling purple, red, and white patterns. Something about them spoke to him, least of all because they were his favorite colors. But how had she known that?

In the unfortunate case she could tell he liked it, he had tossed the picture on a nearby table, throwing out a nonchalant thanks.

At odd moments, like right now, the meandering lines of the painting lit up in his head. It was as though she painted his thoughts. Messy. Undefined.

I don't know who I am.

The scary thought had hit him later. Even hours, days later, the painting had stuck in his head. Something about the painting hinted that he could know. Or that even Camila knew.

"Ladies," Luto trilled, hanging out of the cab window half at an attempt at humor, and half at an attempt to wipe the painting from his thoughts.

Alondra turned, her shining hair bouncing with her movements. She looked sufficiently impressed and flashed a smile. Camila didn't turn, even after Alondra nudged her. Luto was glad. It meant he could stare at her backside instead of her ugly face.

"See you at home!"

He tooted the horn and drove off in search of his next fare. He hadn't driven too long before noticing an old classmate, Tamara Juarez. She reminded him somewhat of Camila, what with her mane of curly hair, and big brown eyes. Instead of wearing a constant frown, Tamara was quick to grin, and did so when he cruised alongside her, offering her a ride home.

She chatted on about art class and her friend Julia. Luto didn't really listen. He was too busy plotting out his next move with her. As they neared her apartment complex, he breezed past the red brick building.

Tamara laughed. "Some cabbie you are. You missed my building."

He pretended to just notice. "Whoops. I did."

Luto drove on for minute, slowing when he came to an abandoned lot behind a row of empty buildings.

"You can turn around now," Tamara said, her tone filled with unease.

Ignoring her, he put the car in park. The first time, she was not grinning.

Luto gestured at the dash. The meter read: $2.49 in big, red letters.

She scoffed. "I don't have any money."

"Ya gotta pay for the ride, that's the law." He tried to sound apologetic and truthful. Both were hard to pull off, but from Tamara's look, it was working.

"But," she searched for words, "You said you'd give me a ride."

Luto chuckled. "It's a cab. Ain't no ride for free."

"I don't have any money," she repeated.

"I might be willing to delete the meter, if you pay with what you have," and here, his voice dropped, "It doesn't have to be with money."

"No."

Luto had one more lie to try before he had to drop everything. "If you don't pay, I'll have to drive you back to my boss, and he'll be real mad."

He waited for her to slap him, or demand that he unlock the car doors. Tears glistened in her large eyes, but oddly, she smiled.

"What did you have in mind?"

Victory washed over him. His mind raced with possibilities, but he knew he shouldn't be greedy. Maybe like, third base.

She doesn't know herself either.

The insight stung him. Momentarily, he froze. Part of him screamed to unlock the doors and release Tamara. This was all wrong.

Then the other part of him, the already hardened part, reminded him that he deserved this. So what if Tamara didn't know herself. All the better for guys like him.

"I'll show you what to do," Luto said.

In the end, Tamara was a very good listener. It was about 10 minutes later that he dropped her off at home. The two-minute ride back to the apartment complex was heavy with silence inside the sweaty cab interior.

Luto absently noted that as Tamara hurried into her building, she wasn't smiling.

~*~