Savages

“another set of guys came in and took the money.”
    “You can’t be serious.”
    “Do I look like I’m kidding?”
    Alex goes lawyer. “Hey, after the transfer is made, it’s not our responsibility.”
    “Except that it was an inside job.”
    Which is technically true.
    “What makes you think it was an inside job?” Alex asks, getting a little pale.
    “Who else knew?”
    “Your people.”
    Ben says, “I’ve been in business for eight years and never been ripped off by
my
people.”
    “What did the guys look like?”
    “Well, they weren’t retarded,” Ben says, “because they were wearing masks.”
    “What kind of masks?”
    “Madonna and Lady Gaga.”
    “This is not a time for jokes.”
    “I agree,” Ben says. “They didn’t say a lot, but the little they did say sounded a little south of the border to me.”
    Alex thinks about this for a second, but doesn’t want to yield position. He says, “Maybe you need to beef up your security.”
    “And maybe,” Ben says, wrapping his taco and getting up, “you need to look into yours. Get back to me on this. It better not happenagain.”
    Alex decides to go on the offensive. “Do you have the ransom money yet?”
    “Still working on it,” Ben snaps.

167
     
    “He’s all over me,” Alex says to Lado.
    Pantry of one of Machado’s taco stands in SJC. Alex doesn’t like it—it smells like raw chicken and raw chicken is full of dangerous bacteria. He tries not to let his jacket touch the counter.
    Lado sees his discomfort and enjoys it.
    The Muppie
pendejo
should remember where he came from.
    “So what?” Lado asks.
    “He blames us.”
    “So?”
    “He’s all over me.”
    “You said that already.”
    A kid comes in looking for a can of crushed tomatoes. Lado looks at him like he’s nuts and the scared kid backs out.
    “You sent the guys,” Alex says. “Is it possible one or two of them are in business for themselves?”
    “I’ll look into it.”
    “Because it’s causing a prob—”
    “I said I’d look into it.”
    Lado’s in an ugly mood, was when he woke up in the morning, isnow, probably will be when he goes to bed. Delores started in on him when he was barely awake—the
fugeda
gutters need cleaning, Junior got a D in algebra, running her mouth just to hear herself talk.
    He wants to scream at her—I have real problems. Another
tombe
…
    Then three
cabróns
didn’t show up for work this morning and he had to run down to the strip mall and hire three wetbacks from the parking lot. And now this pain in the balls? The
gueros
bitching because they’re getting held up? Welcome to the club.
    “I’ll look into it,” he repeats. He walks out of the pantry, gets a burrito and some juice to go, and gets back in the car. It’s already twelve-thirty and Gloria only gets an hour for lunch. She’s a hairstylist in a shop down in Dana Point Harbor, but luckily her place is practically across the street.
    He has a key and she’s in bed waiting for him when he gets there. Wearing just the dark brown bra and panties he likes her in, the set he bought her that shows off her firm tits and that bubble ass.
    “You’re late, baby,” she says.
    “Over.”
    She turns over onto her elbows and knees.
    Lado undresses, then kneels on the bed behind her and jerks the panties down around her ankles. He’s proud that he’s hard without her touching him or his touching himself—it’s good for a man his age.
    He runs his fingers over her back and feels her shiver. Her skin is like butter. Then he opens her up. Pounds her until she whimpers with pleasure and he feels the buildup in his balls and then he pulls out and flips her over.
    She takes him in her mouth and finishes him with her hand.
    Lado won’t wear a condom and he don’t want no more babies.
    When Gloria comes out of the bathroom she lies down beside, runs her hand across his hair, and says, “You’re getting shaggy. You should come in for a cut.”
    “I will.”
    She gets up and starts to get dressed. “I have a two o’clock.”
    “Forget it.”
    “‘Forget it,’ he says. I have to work.”
    “I’ll pay it.”
    “She’s a regular.”
    The black blouse fits tight over her tits. He bets she gets a lot of tips from the male customers. It should make him jealous, but it gets him hot instead, and she knows that. Sometimes she tells him she sees them get hard, brushes a thigh against theirs.
    “I’ll bet their wives really get it that night,” he says.
    She