Page 28 of The Slayer
“My daddy’s a Baptist preacher,” she admitted as she turned around and gave him her full attention while he ate. “Did you know that?”
“I did know that.” He reached for his orange juice. “I don’t know too many Protestants.” He looked ahead, the glass in his hand. “I don’t think I knowany.”
“I don’t know any Catholics,” she countered.
“I guess not if there’s no Catholic church within a hundred miles and only one Latina who married a gringo and probably fucking converted to make him happy.”
“You say a lot of bad words,” she observed drily. “You’re worse than Jules.”
“That’s what you get for invitingel diablointo your house for sandwiches and soup,” he said without remorse. “Trust me, swearing is the least of my sins.”
“You think you’re a devil?” she asked curiously, because she recognized that one. She’d never heard someone say that about themself, especially someone religious enough to worry about confession. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
“Just like you’re sure I’m not a thug,” he said with a smile and took a drink of his juice. “How old are you, mami?”
“Nineteen.”
“Coño.” He rolled his eyes and looked away. “What the fuck are you doing hanging out with me at one in the morning?”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty.”
“That’s not very different.”
“Itisvery different. Twenty from where I come from is old already,” he argued and then took a sip of his soup. “I’m sure I’ve done a lot more living than you have. Probably more than you ever will.”
“Probably,” she agreed softly. “I haven’t done very much living at all.”
“Well, living sucks,” he said with another smile. “Don’t feel bad about it.”
She stared at him quietly as he went back to eating, seeing that his hands weren’t shaking as badly, but he still looked extremely tired and worn down. She got the impression his exhaustion was the reason he was in her kitchen, confessing all this to begin with. She wasn’t sure he would have let his guard down if he weren’t so ill.
“I think you should sleep,” she whispered. “It says you’re supposed to sleep.”
“The last time I fell asleep, I ended up with a gringa screaming over me. I’ll pass.”
“Sleep is good. Sleep heals,” she argued. “You need it. Desperately.”
“I’m not going to sleep, chica. Sleep is never my friend. Why the hell do you think I was on the blow to begin with?”
“We could figure something out.”
He paused, looking at her curiously. “Like what?”
She shrugged. “I could stay with you.”
“Staywith me?” he repeated slowly, his eyes wide in shock. “You’re not worried about getting your hands dirty?”
“Getting my hands dirty?” She frowned in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
He leaned forward, giving her a harsh look as he studied her. “You ever been with a man, mami?”
“Been with?” she repeated, and then her eyes widened in horror. “Is that what you think I mean?You’re ill. I was going to wake you up if your nightmares got bad.”
“Carajo,” he said with a laugh as he pushed away from the table and surprised her by taking his dishes to the sink. “A virgin gringa living in the same house as me with no one else around. Asmoking-hotvirgin gringa. This whole fucking town is loco.”
She stared at his back, admiring the muscles under the long-sleeved shirt he was wearing. “I guess you’re not a virgin.”
