Tribes (A. Scott Fenney Book 4) by Mark Gimenez

Author:Mark Gimenez [Gimenez, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781733034968
Publisher: Navarchus Press LLC
Published: 2020-08-14T16:00:00+00:00

FIFTEEN

"May I speak freely in front of the judge?" Doctor McIntosh said.

Two days later, Scott and Cat sat before her new obstetrician in an exam room at the Margot Perot Center for Women and Children.

"He's the father," Cat said.

"As the judge knows, only the mother matters in the law."

"I'll leave," Scott said.

"No," Cat said. "You deserve to know everything about me and my pregnancy. He's your son."

"You said that … twice."

"You don't believe me? Okay. Doc, give us DNA tests."

"Cat—"

"No, you're questioning me, and I don't like it."

"Do you two need a moment?" the doctor said.

"No. I need a DNA test."

"We don't need a DNA test," Scott said.

"You're getting one. Take his blood, Doc."

"My nurse will take his blood. Now, Ms. Peña, we confirmed your pregnancy with the urine and blood tests. The STD tests came back negative. The prior abortion should not increase the risk of premature delivery."

~

"I was twenty, dreaming of a spot on the Olympic track team, I got drunk after I won the two hundred at a big meet, wound up in bed with a javelin thrower from Stanford. I couldn't have the baby and run at the Olympics."

They sat in the car in the parking garage behind the medical center.

"So you had an abortion?"

"Yes."

"You're Catholic."

"A fallen Catholic. I always wonder about him or her. I gave up a child to run in the fucking Olympics, and I didn't make the team anyway. I guess that was God's justice. I light a candle in church every Sunday for the baby. But I will love this child enough for both of them. God's giving me a second chance—with our child."

~

Black people in South Dallas had never heard of a Mexican girl named Z. Mexican people in East Dallas didn't want to know a girl named Z who was in La Tribu de la Muerte. They refused to speak openly about the gang. They would be marked for death. A vicious death.

"Hombre, they do not kill you. They torture you. Cut your fuckin' heart out, feed it to their pit bulls."

But they all agreed on one thing: If the girl named Z spoke publicly—or testified in court—about La Tribu, she would not live to see the next dawn. Louis and Carlos had struck out that day. Again.

~

"Judge Fenney, why do they say, 'Burn, baby, burn'? Do black people threaten to burn down Dallas because they know white people fear that? Or do white people fear that if black people get mad they'll burn the city?"

Pajamae and Boo sat in the bed. Judge Fenney sat next to the bed.

"Some of both. We've had riots in America, in the black communities, and blacks set the cities on fire. Back in sixty-eight, after Martin Luther King, Jr., was assassinated. In ninety-two, in L.A., after white policemen were acquitted in the beating of a black man, Rodney King. And this year after the white cop killed the black man in Minneapolis."

"Did the blacks burn the white part of town?"

"No. The black part."

"They

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