Page 57 of Jessica, Not Her Real Name

Sebastián didn’t say anything. Just took another sip of bourbon, grimacing like he regretted it.

The silence stretched between them. A streetlamp outside cast slanted gold light through the threadbare curtains, illuminating one side of Sebastián’s face.

Daniel stared at the bottle in his hands. “You remember when we finally got to LA? After that fucking bus ride from Tucson?” He took another drink. “I had to give the driver Dad’s Rolex and two of Mom’s gold necklaces just to get us on board. Fare was probably forty bucks, but he saw two unaccompanied Mexican kids and figured he could take us for a fucking ride.”

Sebastián stayed quiet.

Daniel let out a soft, humorless chuckle. “And when we finally got here, we had nowhere to sleep, so I stole that car from the bus terminal.”

Sebastián’s voice was quiet. “I don’t remember any of that.”

“You were, what, four? Still crying for Mom and Dad every night.” Daniel turned the bottle in his hands. “So, I told you this was how people in America lived. That everyone slept in their cars so they could wake up someplace new every day.”

He glanced at his brother, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “But you called bullshit on me right away. Told me people here don’t live in their cars. They live in houses, same as people in México. And that’s when I knew—shit, this kid is gonna be way smarter than me one day.”

Sebastián’s face was unreadable, but his voice was thinner than before when he said, “I remember you singing ‘Macochi Pitentzin’ to me when I couldn’t sleep.”

Daniel smiled. “You remember that?”

Sebastián nodded.

“You remember Mamá singing it to you?”

A pause. Then, quietly, “Maybe.”

Daniel exhaled. Took another drink. Passed the bottle back. This time, Sebastián didn’t wince as he swallowed.

“Then we ran out of gas,” Daniel continued. “So, I dumped the car and was in the middle of lifting us another one when this huge guy comes running out of a tattoo shop across the street. He had an aluminum bat, and was shouting like a crazy motherfucker. I froze. Thought, this is it. This is how I die.”

Sebastián listened, silent.

“But he didn’t hit me,” Daniel said, shaking his head. “Just grabbed me by the scruff and told me that if I was gonna steal cars, I needed to learn how to do a better fucking job of it.” He reached across, taking the bottle back. “And that’s how we met Terry.”

Neither of them spoke for a long time after that. They just drank together in silence.

After a while, Daniel stretched his legs out and said, “You know how I told you that once the ‘Cuda was finished, and I had enough saved up, we’d be outta here?”

Sebastián stared at him. “We’re leaving?”

Daniel nodded.

“All of it?”

By which he meant the gang. The drugs. Terry.

“All of it,” Daniel said. “For good this time.”

Sebastián was quiet. Then: “When?”

“Not tomorrow.” Daniel looked down at the empty bottle. “But soon. Real soon.”

Sebastián didn’t respond right away. Then he turned and met Daniel’s eyes. “What about Julia?”

Daniel squeezed his fingers against his temples. The thought of never seeing Julia again hit him in the chest like a physical blow.

He forced himself to his feet. It was harder than expected, and he had to grip the windowsill for balance. “I told you,” he slurred. “It’s over.”

He was halfway to the door when Sebastián called after him.