“Thanks. I just wanted a second opinion.”
“Want something to eat?”
“Maybe just some black beans and rice. And I’m going to need a burrito to go. Spicy enough to melt an engine block. It’s for a friend, not me, so I’ll give you cash for that.”
Carlos shakes his head.
“Don’t be stupid. You want some of the red stuff?”
“A double. I’m drinking for two today. My scars and me.”
Carlos brings the bottle and a glass and pours me two healthy shots. I take out the apothecary bottle and look through the amber glass.
“What’s that stuff?”
“Medicine.”
“You sick?”
“Not for long.”
I upend the bottle and pour the whole thing into the Aqua Regia.
“L’Chaim,” says Carlos.
“De nada.”
I knock it back in one gulp. My mouth, throat, and stomach are very unhappy about that. I squeeze my lips together to make sure I keep it all down.
“That good?”
“Worse. It’s like a dog with cancer ate a rat with leprosy and shit it down my throat.”
“I had one of those in El Paso once. You’re supposed to chase it with goat piss, but I’m fresh out.”
“Next time.”
“That old lady is back.”
“Which old lady?”
“The one with the missing kid.”
“Aki.”
“Yeah, that’s him. She’s over with Titus. I hope he’s not stealing all of that lady’s money.”
“He always leaves them enough to cover his drinks.”
“Seriously, I don’t like people messing with old ladies. Mi madre had cancer and gave all her Social Security money to a faith healer.”
“What happened?”
“He gave her a homeopathic cure and she felt better. Of course, the homeopathic cure was just sweet wine with ginger and some low-grade morphine. When she ran out of money, the cure stopped coming. She went back to the regular doctor, but by then the cancer was everywhere. Let me tell you, having cancer sucks, but being broke and having cancer is the shittiest fate that can land on a human being.”
“I’m sorry, man. You want me to go over and have a word with Titus?”
“Don’t sweat it. I’m just talking out loud. I’ve got my eye on him.”