Page 65 of Trig

“Obviously we have some feelings, as Mom put it, that have surfaced and caused an interference. We still need to find out who this guy is and how he knows us. Cisco, when it comes to your man out there, where does your loyalty lie?”

“Family first,” he replies.

I nod as I stand up and grab my weapon. I slide Mya’s gun across the table to Nine. Cisco grabs both his and Oscar's. We all walk to the sliding door that leads out to the patio. Mya and Oscar are outside embracing each other with his back facing us. Mya’s head is laid against his chest.

“What are we doing? It’s been one night. What is this?” she says to him.

“Let’s take some time and find out.”

“We could be friends.”

“Mya, stop pushing me away. I don’t need any more friends.”

“Oh my God! One night and you think you know what you need with me?”

“No, but one night and I know what I want with you. It’s not just the sex. We talked all night. I like you. You’re different. I’m here putting my life on the line with your family. I’m putting my neck out there business-wise in ways you don’t know yet. I don’t do this family shit with women. This is out of character for me to chase.”

“Easy fix. Stop chasing,” she says.

“Easy fix. Stop running,” he shoots back.

The sound of three guns cocking sounds off. Both Oscar and Mya slowly turn to face us. Mya moves in front of him as they notice all of our guns pointed at him.

“Mya, move to the side,” Oscar commands.

“Oscar. No.”

“Move to the fucking side, Mya.”

Mya hesitantly moves to the side and tries to plead with us to put the guns down. I ignore her and walk forward, hitting the side of his head with the butt of my gun. Mya screams and Oscar passes out, falling into the grass. Let’s see what the fuck this guy knows and if I need to bury him in my backyard.

***

I toss a glass of ice-cold water at Oscar’s face. It takes a while for him to come to. His eyelids flicker open as he begins to move his neck around. I wait as he takes in his surroundings. He looks down at the chair he’s tied to. His wrists and his ankles are zip-tied to the arms and legs of it.

“Are you really gonna kill me in this nice triple-car garage? It’d be a shame.”

“I ask the questions. For every question you evade, I shoot you. Understand?”

He nods.

“Who do you work for?”

“Not for? With.” He pauses. “I work with the people. For the people.”

I point my gun at him.

“That’s a half-ass answer. I’m now trying to decide which kneecap to blow out first.”

“I work with the people on the islands. Normal everyday people. They need protection from Mapache and his men.”

“And you and your team, you offer help?” I ask. “You seem to have a lot of money to be in the business of just helping.”

“I’m no angel. I come from a long line of heisters, hustlers, and dealers. It’s what I choose to do with my money and time that matters.”

“Who is this Mapache and why do people need help?

“In Spanish, Mapache means raccoon. They call him that because he comes in the night and takes everything he wants. Your money. Your business. Your dreams. Your family. He’ll take it all.”

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