Page 52

Don’t Mean to Be Rude

Hank set the bowl of salsa on the coffee table. “Tell me what you think.”

Hector dipped a tortilla chip and tasted it. He raised an eyebrow. “It’s almost as good as my moth—”

“—She showed me how she does it. There’s a secret herb.”

Hank winked and sat back. Hector’s mom promised she would finally teach him how to make pupusas later that afternoon.

Andre brought over a tray of glasses, and Larry poured the pitcher of Hank’s margaritas. Hector took a sip, then a bigger one, smacked his lips, and smiled. “Very tasty.”

Hank was blatantly buttering up the barber in the hopes he’d let them go. The money was returned to the casino—well, except for the three hundred thousand they’d held back, and they were sorting out the best way to get that to their wives. Everybody seemed to be safe. Even Elmer. And according to Hector, his wife thought Padma could be in love. Brenda had dropped by the casino to pick up her personal belongings, and Padma’s office was draped in bedsheets. Apparently, she was leaving the casino business, moving back to India, and becoming a VP of some big bedding company. As for the man who’d threatened their wives—The Fiscal Falcon—Hector had told them once the nine million dollars had landed in the casino’s account, he’d gone back down whatever hole he’d crawled out of.

So, Hector had no reason to keep them here. Yet, still, his man sat by the door.

Once released, the husbands weren’t completely sure where they were headed. From what they could tell, legally they could return home. There were no criminal charges against them—not for the casino theft, or the boat explosion. They would just have to navigate the awkwardness of being declared dead, then they’d be free to live their lives as they wanted. But was there anything left for them in the States?

As Hector reached for the chips, Hank asked, “Did they say anything? You know. About us.”

He felt like he was in ninth grade all over again and asking a friend about a girl. How did he go from being sixty-four to fourteen again?

Hector’s eyes widened, and he crammed four chips in his mouth. He held up his finger and chewed slowly. Hank knew that maneuver. The barber was buying time until he broke the bad news. They wouldn’t be going back. He looked at Larry and Andre, and they nodded.

Hank let Hector off the hook. “It’s okay. Had to ask. We realize we pretty much burned our bridges.”

Finally, Hector swallowed. “Burned bridges? What does that mean?”

The men remained quiet for a moment, and then Andre spoke. “It’s when something magical anchors two people together in this unwieldy world we live in, and then one of them is so stupid he literally torches that connection, and it burns to the ground, and he can’t get back across to the best thing that ever could have happened to him.”

Larry said in a quiet voice, “Andre. There are two ends to any bridge. They did try to kill us.”

Andre looked at the floor, nodded slightly, and finally smiled. He looked up from Hank to Larry, with tears in his eyes, and then shrugged. “After we lied to them for years. It’s us. We lit the match.”

He gingerly peeled himself off the plastic-covered sofa and walked down the hall. They heard his door softly close behind him.

Hector watched him go and then said, “Well, Pam did tell me it used to be really good for all of them. And then a few years ago, it got not so good.”

He shrugged. “She did ask if I thought they’d ever see you again.”

“Oh!”

Larry’s head snapped up.

Hank’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Hank and Larry exchanged a glance.

Hector added, “For what it’s worth, I think they were really impressed with what you did. You know, the theft, and then giving the money back to save them.”

He reached for another chip. “I heard they’re moving in with Marlene in Boca Raton.”

Hank smiled. Larry chuckled. “They’re the fucking Golden Girls.”

Hank laughed. “I bet they all think they’re Blanche. No one will want to be Sophia and carry her purse everywhere.”

He sat back in his chair and looked at Larry. “That’s good. They have each other. They’ll be good.”

So now they’d move to Plan B. They had been thinking their best bet would be to head to a resort town where their English could come in handy in the tourist industry, while they improved their Spanish. If Hector would let them go.

As Hector reached for another chip, he spoke in a low voice. “Look. I don’t mean to be rude. But my mother is wondering how much longer you guys will be staying.”

Hank glanced to the man guarding the door. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I told her you’d be here a few days. A week, tops. And it’s been almost three. She’s hoping you might be ready to move on. Her sister wants to come visit.”

Hank closed his eyes for a couple of seconds, then opened them. “Sure. Sure. We can probably be on our way tomorrow. Right, Larry?”

He rubbed his face to hide his smile and noticed Larry’s brow was furrowed.

Larry motioned to the door—he’d want to be sure of the details. Although, it was a little late in this case. “So, Hector, why the guy at the door?”

Hector dipped more salsa and tilted his head back as he dropped another chip in his mouth. He pushed the food aside to answer. “Him? The extra help in case you needed it.”

“You mean, he’s not guarding us?”

Larry asked, his voice rising.

“Guarding you?”

Hector laughed. “Why would anyone guard you? He’s here in case you needed a ride somewhere, or a translator. He’s part of your fee. I told you that when you hired me. Don’t you remember?” Hector reached for another chip. “Now I have a question for you. Remember the first time I came down to see you. You wanted me to check out a business opportunity you were interested in on the coast. What exactly was that?”