Page 122 of The Slayer
“I fucking hate my tattoo.” Tino sighed. “We were young and stupid when we got them. My people, we don’t get tattoos, you know? It’s just a thing Nova and I did. Like a statement, fuck the establishment, and afterward all the guys in our crew got it too. Made it worse, like they were standing with Nova no matter what. Man, my father whipped the shit outta me when he saw the ink. Holy fuck. I think I still feel the belt from it.” Tino closed his eyes and tilted his head back as if remembering. “Asshole’s been dead for two years, and I can still feel that belt.”
“Did he beat Nova?” Chuito asked curiously, because he noticed Nova wasn’t scarred like Tino was.
“No.” Tino took another drink. “It hurt Nova more to see him beat me. That was the one way my father was a really great gangster. He wasn’t smart like Nova. He wasn’t cunning like the old man, but he knew how to manipulate people. I was never any good at it, but Nova got that from him. He can manipulate better than our father could. Like the tattoos. Ink’s permanent. Seeing it on so many bodies started to make a statement. It was a line, young gangsters versus old gangsters. Fuck with us, and you’ll have a war on your hands you will not win.”
“There’s a lot more young gangsters,” Chuito agreed.
“Yup.” Tino nodded. “Nova does shit like that. Sends little messages to the establishment. I told you, it’s a poker game to him. Still wish I didn’t have the fucking tattoo. I hate it.”
“It doesn’t bother me,” Chuito admitted. “I like seeing it. I like reminders.”
“Yeah, well, you’re fucked-up like that.” Tino took another drink. “Did you tell her you killed those motherfuckers for Wyatt?”
“Not exactly. She noticed the ink outside the snake was new. She knew I killed two people since I moved here. She doesn’t know why. I wouldn’t sell out Wyatt.”
“You’ll just sell me out?” Tino observed with an arch of his eyebrow, his gaze flicking to the Vicodin on the table.
“She’s not stupid, Tino,” Chuito pointed out. “I have the same ink as you on my body. She knows your family is mafia.”
“She didn’t knowIwas mafia.” There was a sharp edge to Tino’s voice.
“Everyone knows you’re mafia,” Chuito told him sadly. “Just like everyone knows I was a gangbanger. We just have a very polite ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy here in Garnet. Stop being so fucking defensive. Can you go down for having an Omertá tattoo on your body?”
“Obviously not.”
“I told her I work for the mafia. I’ll admit to telling her that, but I didn’t say who.”
“She knows who!” Tino shouted at him. “She knows it’s Nova!”
“You told her to fuck me,” Chuito shot back. “You set it up! I know that’s what you were doing when you told her I was moving back to Miami.”
“I didn’t know you’d treat her like a fucking priest after you were done,” Tino retaliated. “All you had to say was that it was old ink. That you watched too muchSopranoswhen you were a kid. You could have said anything! I have been making shit up since I was a teenager. Why is this hard for you? Do you tell every woman you fuck about your Los Corredores ink?”
“Every woman I’ve fucked knew what my ink meant,” Chuito said as he shrugged. “I’ve never fucked a woman outside this.” He gestured between them. “All the women I screwed in Miami knew what I was. They fucked me because of what I was. There was a reason I was avoiding this, Tino.”
“Your problem is you don’t fuck enough,” Tino said with conviction. “You just fucking lose your shit when a woman opens her legs for you.”
“Don’t say that about Alaine,” Chuito warned him.
“What’re you gonna do about it?” Tino countered. “You exposed my family. You should be dead right now, motherfucker.”
“I didn’t say it was your family. If she does tell Wyatt. If I do go down, do you honestly think I’m going to sell you out? Anything I told her is hearsay. I’m not Nova, but even I know that. The only way the Feds can get shit on your family is if I tell them. I won’t sell you out. Ever.”
“Yeah?” Tino snorted in disbelief. “I used to believe that. Now, Chu, I dunno. The Feds would probably give you a pretty sweet plea deal. They could make you disappear. You speak Spanish; you’d be easy as fuck to hide in Mexico or Spain or one of the other dozen Spanish-speaking countries, and all you’d have to do is testify. You’ve done hits for us. You could sell us out. You are a fucking liability.”
“You think I’d sell you out?” Chuito was genuinely insulted. “Honestly?”
“Life in prison?” Tino seemed to consider it. “Yeah, I think you might.”
“Fuck you, Tino,” Chuito said with a glare. “Just fuck you.”
“Give me a reason to believe something different.” Tino almost sounded pleading. “Really, I need a reason.”
“This is your reason.” Chuito pointed to the table. “I am here. I told you. I trusted you. I came here to ask for help knowing you’d think this.”
“You didn’t knock.” Tino remembered. “You stood there like you didn’t trust me either.”
Chuito laughed manically. “Can you blame me?”
