Savages

Esteban, “I’m pretty much a useless twat.”
    Esteban knows “useless”—
fregado
—he doesn’t know “twat.”
    “When I get out of here,” O says, “
if
I get out of here—”
    “You will.”
    “I’m going to do something with my life.”
    “What?”
    Well, that’s the prob,
ese
, Este.
    I have no fucking idea.

239
     
    Lado crawls into bed.
    To give the wife a little.
    What she needs, a good stiff dick.
    He nudges his between the warm cheeks of her ass and rubs it up and down, seeking an invitation.
    Delores gets up and out of bed. “Give it to your
putana.
I don’t want it.”
    Lado’s in no mood. He has a lot on his mind. The war, the
tombe
, now the attempt on Elena and increased security on her brat of a daughter, who doesn’t think she needs security. And now Delores forgets herplace. “Get your butt back here.”
    “No thank you.”
    “I said get your fucking ass back in this bed.”
    “Make me.”
    Okay, that’s a mistake.
    He’s out of the sheets in a flash. She’s forgotten how quick he is, how strong he is—the first slap sends her reeling against the wall, her ears ringing as he grabs her, throws her on the bed, lands on top of her, pins both wrists above her head with his one big hand.
    He pushes her thighs apart with his knee.
    “This the way you want it, bitch?”
    “I
don’t
want it.”
    Maybe not, but she gets it.
    He takes his time, too.
    Afterward, coming out of the bathroom, she says, “I want a divorce.”
    He laughs. “You want
what
?”
    “A divorce.”
    “What you’re going to get is a beating,” Lado says, “you don’t shut your mouth now.”
    Delores backs into the doorway. “I already talked to a lawyer. He said I’d get half the house, the money, custody of the kids …”
    Lado nods.
    He could beat the fucking shit out of her but he has something worse for her than a beating. He smiles and says, “Delores, if you go through with this, I will take the kids to Mexico and you will never, ever see them again. You know that’s the truth, you know I’ll do it, so stop acting foolish and come back to bed.”
    She stands in the doorway for a few seconds.
    She knows him.
    Who he is.
    What he does.
    She gets back in bed.

240
     
    Elena packs a few things.
    She only needs a few things because she has complete sets of everything she needs at all her residences. Each house, she thinks, sits full and ready, waiting only for my presence to complete its emptiness.
    There’s a knock on the door and she knows from its tentativeness that it’s Hernan. She lets him in and he asks, “Are you ready to go to the
finca
?”
    “Yes, all ready.”
    They go downstairs, then out into the courtyard and into the car that has been specially fitted with armor siding. Beltran, anxious, hovers like a mother hen, sees them into the car, and gets into a heavily armed Suburban in front of them.
    They drive several blocks, then Elena orders the driver to take a left.
    “The
finca
is the other way, Mother.”
    She says, “We’re not going to the
finca.
”
    He looks confused.
    Of course he does, the poor darling, so she continues. “The plan was for us to go to the
finca
, where Beltran would have had us assassinated. He set the bomb—if it didn’t kill me, it would have driven me to seek safety at the ranch under his protection.”
    Her laugh is bitter.
    “How did you know?”
    How didn’t
you
know, Elena thinks, is more the question. And theproblem. She cannot leave him in Mexico, he wouldn’t survive five minutes. She will have to take him with, and arrange for his
bruja
wife to follow after.
    Before she can answer, Beltran’s Suburban does a U-turn to follow her, but two other cars appear from a side alley and block the way. Elena looks out the back window as men with AK-47s jump out of the two cars and open up on the Suburban.
    Beltran comes out of the passenger side firing, but they riddle him with bullets and he melts into the pavement.
    “You can go now,” Elena says to the driver.
    The car moves ahead.
    “Why didn’t you tell me?” Hernan asks.
    “Could you have pulled it off?” she asks. “Disguised your feelings, smiled, and shook his hand?”
    “No.”
    “Well, then.” She pats his hand, sighs, and says, “I’m tired of war, tired of the killing, the worry. I have been for some time. So I’ve prepared a move. We’re going to the United States. Lado has prepared the ground for us. Your sisters are there already.”
    Azul wants Baja? she