Page 17 of The Slayer
He looked around the apartment again, thinking about his mother, who was living fairly well now that Chuito had taken over Los Corredores. He was risking a lot to stay here, and for what?
He didn’t need these gringos to make cash.
He did just fine on his own.
It was still a mystery to him, but he felt compelled in the same way he did when he stole a car. It was like an invisible force, pulling him toward it, even if part of him knew it was a mistake. Like it was supposed to be his, even if everything in society told him he should never try to touch it, let alone take it.
He fished his phone out of his pocket and called his mother. She answered on the third ring and said in Spanish, “I’m at work,chico.”
“I think I’m going to stay,” he whispered, feeling an uncomfortable wave of misery roll down the back of his neck, because saying it to his mother meant it was true. “I’ll have Angel bring you what’s mine. All of it.”
“Un momento,” she said to someone. There was the sound of a door being opened and closed, and then she whispered into the phone, “What do you want me to do with it?”
“Keep it. Retire off it. I hate that fucking job of yours. I don’t know why you insist on working there.”
He knew he didn’t have to tell her not to put that much money in the bank. His mother was smart. She didn’t need him to draw her a map.
“What about your friends?” she asked.
What a very polite way to ask Chuito what he was going to do about abandoning his entire crew in Miami.
“They’re okay. Angel’s handling it.”
“You’re going to stay?” she asked in disbelief. “You said it was snowing.”
“It is snowing.” He groaned as he looked out the tiny window on the side of his apartment. “It’s cold as fuck. This is the most miserable place I’ve ever been to in my life. The people here think I’m toxic.”
“Come home,” his mother argued. “I know this is about Marc—”
“I’m just going to stay until he gets out.” Chuito felt sick again as he glanced around the small room. “I’ll feel better if I’m here.”
“¡Me cago en ná!You don’t always have to be the same,” she snapped at him. “He doesn’t want that.”
“It’s either that or going down in Miami. You choose.” Chuito took a deep breath and looked around the room again, feeling the walls close in on him. “Really, you pick, Mamá. Here or there, either way I’m doing this. I can’t live with the guilt anymore. I got too much already.”
“Fine. Stay in the snow until Marc gets out. I don’t care. Be miserable. Let the gringos treat you likemierda!”
“They gave me a free place to stay.” He raised his eyebrows at that. “I think they’d give me money to eat too if I let them.”
“What do you have to do for it?”
“They said I just have to win.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it,” he mumbled, because he didn’t believe it either.
“Don’t let them give you money,” she snapped at him harshly. “They’ll think you’re weak.”
“Okay.” He nodded as he took another deep breath. “I got enough to live off of for a while. You take the rest.”
“No.”
“Yes,” he growled at her. “Take it.”
“I don’t want it!”
“Mamá!” He pressed his phone closer to his ear, practically shaking with how frustrating his mother was. “Take the fucking money!”
