The Miseducation of Riley Pranger

Chapter 4

"Yeah, remember that time Riley and I got into that argument? Theresa said that her uncle was in Stubby's that night and heard him and the rest of the good ol' boys talking s**t about me. She said her uncle heard them using the word ICE. The thing is that we don't talk about none of that. And it's not a term that I've ever used in front of her."

Bodie's heart was slamming in his ribcage. God damned nosey ass, interfering troublemaking Prangers!

"I don't know s**t about Mexico," Pete continued. "I was five years old when my parents brought me and my brother and sister over. My parents are passed on so I don't even really have a contact over there. Plus if my people had money to take care of me then my parents wouldn't have left in the first place." He took another draw from the cigarette. "What the f**k do I know about being Mexican? I grew up thinking that I was just like the rest of you white people," he tried to joke. But Bodie flashed him a quick look.

"I'm a quarter Cherokee and in these parts it means I'm all Cherokee."

Pete briefly squeezed his shoulder and nodded before pushing off the counter. "For a while I forgot that I wasn't actually American." Pete shook his head and Bodie could see his eyes glisten. "I felt like an American, Bodie."

Bodie had no response to that because these days even he wasn't sure what that was supposed to feel like. "What are you going to do?" Bodie asked quietly. What would he do if someone tried to separate him from all that he knew?

Pete blinked and gave Bodie a half smile. "Learn how to speak Spanish again."

Bodie went back into the office and then gave Pete his final check. It was twice as much as normal. He whispered to his friend that he would send him more once he got into Mexico City. Pete tried to tell him not to do that but Bodie continued as if he hadn't interrupted.

"I want you to find a place to live and to get yourself settled. That check is for Theresa and Jace. I'm going to send you a couple of grand once you get down there. I can't say whether or not any thing of value that you try to take with you won't be confiscated, so better safe than sorry. Contact me as soon as you can. Don't be too prideful, you hear me?"

Pete swallowed and his eyes once again took on a bright and glistening cast. "I hear you Bodie. I didn't come here for that," he continued when Bodie opened his mouth. "But I'll take you up on it."

Pete grabbed the older man into a bear hug. He'd worked for Bodie since he was twenty years old and seven years with a man like Bodie had given him ideas of owning his own shop, of being married and having children and living the American dream. Only thing is that somehow along the way he had forgotten that he wasn't American.

~*~

Riley finished up his coffee and then washed the dish and set it in the drain board next to the plate and the skillet that he had used to fry the two over-easy eggs and four strips of bacon that he had each morning for breakfast.

He walked through the quiet house and sat on the worn wooden bench situated by the entrance, to pull on his work boots. They never reached further into the house then this three-foot entranceway unless he wanted to spend the next several hours cleaning grease marks from the wooden floors or the throw rugs.

Since Riley didn't have a wife or a woman or a mother to do his cleaning for him, he had learned long ago that if he didn't want to clean up he needed to make sure that he didn't mess up.

He walked outside thinking that it was going to be a miserable summer if it was already pushing eighty degrees at the ass crack of dawn. He tossed his lunch pale into the driver's side of his truck. In it were roast beef sandwiches left over from yesterday's Sunday dinner.

He turned on the radio and listened to a morning radio show as he drove to Bodie's Garage. He'd done the same thing day in and day out for the last five years. It took no thought to knock the dings out of the body of a wrecked car or dis-assemble and reassemble an engine. Riley hadn't really had to do much thinking since returning to the mountain. And although he hadn't consciously operated in this way, it was the way he preferred it.

He got out of his truck and walked into the quiet garage. He was surprised that the radio wasn't on. Pete usually got in before him and the place would be pumping out some channel from Richmond that played progressive music that made the hair on his skin rise up. Bodie would have the second pot of coffee going since he usually started work even before the sunrise.

Riley plopped his lunch box into the fridge and saw Bodie coming out of his office.

"Hey Bodie," Riley said while reaching for his coveralls which hung on a hook.

"Riley. I need to talk to you."

Riley paused taking the time to look at his boss for the first time. Both men were big but Bodie was built like a professional wrestler. He embraced his Cherokee heritage although he looked like most of the people on Cobb Hill besides his darker coloring. His eyes were grey and his brown hair was filled with red and blond highlights.

Something about the expression on the man's face gave Riley pause.

"What's up?"

"It's about Pete." Bodie said while staring at him.

"What about him?" Riley asked.

"He's getting deported."