[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
the lean matriarch between us brandished a forkful
of blood-rare steak at her.
Julieta recoiled, her mouth white-rimmed and
pinched tight.
I elbowed my brimming glass of wine into the
matriarch s plate, hard enough to splash a wave of
wine-thinned cow s blood onto her silk dress.
What can I say? I don t like bullies. Or wine.
Apologizing profusely, pretending I didn t
understand any of the names she called me (or my
mother although some of those were amusingly
accurate) I tried to help the waiter clean her up. I
took care to smear the staining grease far and wide.
Behind me, I heard jocular tones among Race
and the men.
Things se led down, all but my seatmate s
176
TURNCOAT
temper. She got a new plate with what had probably
been my steak, while I got a nice plate of guacamole
and scrambled eggs. The waiter whispered that
a sweet potato would be ready in about fifteen
minutes.
I thanked the waiter. I didn t really feel like eating
much of anything, with my jaw and my stomach
both talking to me, but it was a nice thought. A
li le belatedly, remembering that gracias was only
technically sufficient, I added muy amable.
He threw a smile back at me, probably amused
by my pronunciation.
Hey, I can t be the only one who can understand
a lot more than I can say.
The matriarchs started back in on Julieta then,
saying she needed to eat plenty of meat so her baby
would grow up tall like Race instead of being a runty
Indio like her.
I saw a flash of something besides confusion.
Something hidden in a blink of time. She smiled
177
AMBER GREEN
helplessly and shook her head.
So she was playing a role, and I didn t know how
that affected me, or my business.
I glanced at Turn, but he was listening to the
men in the other direction. I hadn t heard a word of
what the men were going on about. Turn murmured
that he was an accountant and that I (he ju ed his
chin at me) was a computer software expert.
The men looked at me appraisingly. The one
who d hit me nodded fractionally.
I didn t nod back.
Turn is an accountant. Knowing him, I d have
to guess he s a good one. My software expertise,
however, consists primarily of knowing how to
recruit real experts on short notice. I ve furnished
beer and pizza for a hack-this party, and have been
known to broker the occasional quarter ounce for a
special job. I m not a member of the clique, but they
put up with me.
I haven t advertised my knack for sussing out
178
TURNCOAT
passwords. Decryption software usually slogs along
for hours or days to find a password. If I know the
person who picked the password, I might get lucky
on the second or third guess.
Yeah, I get antsy when condescended to.
Especially when, in the same breath, someone
mentions a need for exactly what I can do. But I keep
my mouth shut. The alternative would be ge ing
asked or coerced to open my friends locks. I d
rather be condescended to.
The waiter brought me another glass of wine.
Like I really needed another drink in this lifetime.
Agua fresca, por favor.
Racien s voice carried. There s tequila if you
prefer, Kendall.
No thanks, I ve had plenty. The line had become
automatic. I smiled as much as my swollen mouth
allowed and shook my head (gently, to keep from
sloshing my brain against the spiked inside of my
skull) instead of saying it out loud. I took the stem
179
AMBER GREEN
of the wineglass in my fingertips, admiring the way
the light refracted through the liquid.
One of the men, with a squat tequila glass in his
hand and a sliver of grilled onion plastered to his
mustache, showed off his bad teeth. The blondie
drinks like a woman.
Well, I don t drink like a dog-licking naco
dickhead.
Everybody froze.
Fu . I said that out loud.
He lunged over the table, Bowie knife in hand,
dishes spinning and cla ering under him.
I shoved my seat back, falling to get out of range
just as Turn, slit-eyed and snarling, dove across the
table to intercept the dickhead.
Bam!
Gunfire. It overwhelmed the sound of my chair
hi ing the tile. I rolled sideways under the table,
among the ladies legs. Three of the women joined
me in a jostling mass of elbows and fleshy padding.
180
TURNCOAT
At the same time, a plate fell. Guacamole spa ered
and silverware cla ered. I shifted position, and slid
the steak knife up my sleeve.
Say all you want about taking a knife to a
gunfight, it beats showing up barehanded.
Red drops fell from the tablecloth, now sopping
wet exactly where I d been si ing. I heard the
drops splash on the tile floor. Nobody seemed to be
breathing. Certainly, no one had spoken since the
gunfire.
Not gunfire. Gunshot. Singular.
The drops became a thin trickle. At least a yard
of the cloth was now brilliant red. Not Turn. Not
Turn. Not Turn. Turn can t be shot.
I could have handled him, Turn growled.
Someone laughed. Shot him through the heart.
Ass-first.
Race laughed too. Sí claro. We all know Juarez
was a complete asshole, after all.
Everyone laughed, it sounded like.
181
AMBER GREEN
I put my head on my knees, and held back the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl rafalstec.xlx.pl
the lean matriarch between us brandished a forkful
of blood-rare steak at her.
Julieta recoiled, her mouth white-rimmed and
pinched tight.
I elbowed my brimming glass of wine into the
matriarch s plate, hard enough to splash a wave of
wine-thinned cow s blood onto her silk dress.
What can I say? I don t like bullies. Or wine.
Apologizing profusely, pretending I didn t
understand any of the names she called me (or my
mother although some of those were amusingly
accurate) I tried to help the waiter clean her up. I
took care to smear the staining grease far and wide.
Behind me, I heard jocular tones among Race
and the men.
Things se led down, all but my seatmate s
176
TURNCOAT
temper. She got a new plate with what had probably
been my steak, while I got a nice plate of guacamole
and scrambled eggs. The waiter whispered that
a sweet potato would be ready in about fifteen
minutes.
I thanked the waiter. I didn t really feel like eating
much of anything, with my jaw and my stomach
both talking to me, but it was a nice thought. A
li le belatedly, remembering that gracias was only
technically sufficient, I added muy amable.
He threw a smile back at me, probably amused
by my pronunciation.
Hey, I can t be the only one who can understand
a lot more than I can say.
The matriarchs started back in on Julieta then,
saying she needed to eat plenty of meat so her baby
would grow up tall like Race instead of being a runty
Indio like her.
I saw a flash of something besides confusion.
Something hidden in a blink of time. She smiled
177
AMBER GREEN
helplessly and shook her head.
So she was playing a role, and I didn t know how
that affected me, or my business.
I glanced at Turn, but he was listening to the
men in the other direction. I hadn t heard a word of
what the men were going on about. Turn murmured
that he was an accountant and that I (he ju ed his
chin at me) was a computer software expert.
The men looked at me appraisingly. The one
who d hit me nodded fractionally.
I didn t nod back.
Turn is an accountant. Knowing him, I d have
to guess he s a good one. My software expertise,
however, consists primarily of knowing how to
recruit real experts on short notice. I ve furnished
beer and pizza for a hack-this party, and have been
known to broker the occasional quarter ounce for a
special job. I m not a member of the clique, but they
put up with me.
I haven t advertised my knack for sussing out
178
TURNCOAT
passwords. Decryption software usually slogs along
for hours or days to find a password. If I know the
person who picked the password, I might get lucky
on the second or third guess.
Yeah, I get antsy when condescended to.
Especially when, in the same breath, someone
mentions a need for exactly what I can do. But I keep
my mouth shut. The alternative would be ge ing
asked or coerced to open my friends locks. I d
rather be condescended to.
The waiter brought me another glass of wine.
Like I really needed another drink in this lifetime.
Agua fresca, por favor.
Racien s voice carried. There s tequila if you
prefer, Kendall.
No thanks, I ve had plenty. The line had become
automatic. I smiled as much as my swollen mouth
allowed and shook my head (gently, to keep from
sloshing my brain against the spiked inside of my
skull) instead of saying it out loud. I took the stem
179
AMBER GREEN
of the wineglass in my fingertips, admiring the way
the light refracted through the liquid.
One of the men, with a squat tequila glass in his
hand and a sliver of grilled onion plastered to his
mustache, showed off his bad teeth. The blondie
drinks like a woman.
Well, I don t drink like a dog-licking naco
dickhead.
Everybody froze.
Fu . I said that out loud.
He lunged over the table, Bowie knife in hand,
dishes spinning and cla ering under him.
I shoved my seat back, falling to get out of range
just as Turn, slit-eyed and snarling, dove across the
table to intercept the dickhead.
Bam!
Gunfire. It overwhelmed the sound of my chair
hi ing the tile. I rolled sideways under the table,
among the ladies legs. Three of the women joined
me in a jostling mass of elbows and fleshy padding.
180
TURNCOAT
At the same time, a plate fell. Guacamole spa ered
and silverware cla ered. I shifted position, and slid
the steak knife up my sleeve.
Say all you want about taking a knife to a
gunfight, it beats showing up barehanded.
Red drops fell from the tablecloth, now sopping
wet exactly where I d been si ing. I heard the
drops splash on the tile floor. Nobody seemed to be
breathing. Certainly, no one had spoken since the
gunfire.
Not gunfire. Gunshot. Singular.
The drops became a thin trickle. At least a yard
of the cloth was now brilliant red. Not Turn. Not
Turn. Not Turn. Turn can t be shot.
I could have handled him, Turn growled.
Someone laughed. Shot him through the heart.
Ass-first.
Race laughed too. Sí claro. We all know Juarez
was a complete asshole, after all.
Everyone laughed, it sounded like.
181
AMBER GREEN
I put my head on my knees, and held back the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]