Free Daughter's Keeper by Ayelet Waldman

identical in color—a deep, shiny black. The physical similarity ended there, however. Whereas Jorge was thin and sharp-faced, Gabriel, although not particularly tall, was massive. He had the over-developed biceps and chest of a man who earns his muscles lifting ­free-weights and the handles of Nautilus machines. He didn’t look particularly strong, just large, as though his muscles were carved out of soap. His hair was clipped short, and he wore a row of earrings in one ear. If she hadn’t heard stories in the waitresses’ changing room of his sexual escapades, Olivia would have assumed he was gay. As it was, between the wife who occasionally showed up at the restaurant and the various waitresses he bedded, it was unlikely he would have had the time or the energy to have sex with a man, even if so inclined.
    Olivia put her arms around Jorge’s waist. She leaned against his back, feeling the cool slickness of his windbreaker against her cheeks. He spun around on his stool and kissed her quickly on the mouth. Turning back to Gabriel, he said, “Okay, call them now and we’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
    â€œWe’ll be where?” Olivia said, as they left the restaurant and crossed the parking lot toward the car. “I don’t want to go anywhere. I’ve been working since 4:30.”
    â€œDon’t worry, chica . It’ll just take a minute.”
    Olivia stopped in front of her car and threw her purse on the hood. It landed with a thud. “Jorge, what’s going on? Where are we going?”
    â€œIt’s nothing, Olivia. Don’t worry. We’re just going to make a stop. Two stops. But it’ll be fast, I promise. You won’t even have to get out of the car.”
    â€œJorge, is this the deal? Are you out of your mind? Do you really expect me to go along with you while you do a drug deal?”
    He leaned against the car and said beseechingly, “Look, it’s no big deal. You’re just going to wait in the car.”
    â€œNo!”
    â€œOkay, mami . But I need the car.”
    â€œFine. Just drop me off at home before you go.”
    â€œI can’t. You heard me tell Gabriel I’d be there in twenty minutes. I don’t have time to drop you off. You’re going to have to take a bus or something.”
    Olivia groaned, imagining the long, late-night bus ride. She hadn’t any idea which bus to take, or even if they were still running this late at night. She considered the dent a cab ride would make in her night’s earnings. She’d probably lose half, at least. Maybe even more. She looked around the parking lot to see if any of the other girls were still there, but they’d all run for home as soon as they’d cleaned up their stations and zeroed out their tabs. She knew the manager was still there, and she considered, just for a second, asking him for a ride. But what would she say? “Can you drive me home? My boyfriend needs my car to do his meth deal.”
    â€œThis sucks,” she said in English.
    â€œ Cómo ?”
    â€œ Nada .” She reached for her bag and dug around for the keys. She tossed them to him. “You drive.”
    Jorge handed the keys back to her. “I don’t want to have to park. I’m just going to pull up in front and jump out of the car. You have to drive.”
    She shook her head in disgust, although she was relieved that he didn’t expect her to do anything other than wait for him in the car. She unlocked the doors and got into the driver’s seat, throwing her bag in the back. Jorge sat next to her, jiggling his leg and tapping his knee with his fingers. He flipped open the mirror on the visor and smoothed back his hair.
    â€œPut your seat belt on,” she said.
    He leaned back in his seat, still tapping nervously. “Don’t worry about it.”
    â€œJorge, you have to wear a seat belt. Do you want some cop stopping us while