Page 7 of Embriagado

What a nice way to put it, making it sound like I left to study abroad or some shit, and not spent three years in prison.

I looked back at my brother, who was busy flexing his muscles. He was neither tall nor broad like me, but he’d grown up quite a bit. He was only sixteen when I was sentenced, still in high school. Now, at nineteen, he looked like my old self. Or maybe not. While we both had the same tanned skin and brown hair like our mom and Dad’s teal eyes, that was where our resemblance ended. Ignacio was funny and easygoing. The type to live in the moment and be the center of every party, while I? Let’s say I wasn’t any of that.

“Don’t flex too hard, or you’ll shit yourself,” I said, smiling.

“Ha-ha.” He poked his tongue out. “You’re just scared ’cause you know I can beat you up in the ring now.”

“Sure about that?” I challenged him with a raised brow.

Throwing some jabs in the air and jumping around like a bee, he nodded. “Fuck yeah.”

We both knew this was bullshit, yet I didn’t call him out. Instead, I asked, “Why’s Tess here?”

“What d’ya mean? She’s my girl.”

“I told you she can’t sleep here.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved me off. “So where’s your interview?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

He straightened up. “What d’ya want me to say? We fucked, she stayed the night. You know she has it rough at home.”

“She’s a hooker, Nacio.”

Since he always hated the more common nickname Nacho, I settled for Nacio.

He tsked. “She’s an escort.”

I glared at him. “Oh, is she now?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, he gave me an annoyed look. “Why do you even care?”

“’Cause she’s a bad influence on you.”

“Fuck off, bro.”

“I mean it.” I pulled my phone out to check the time. Shit. Now I really was running late. “Anyway, I have to go. Make sure to clean this mess you two made, then send her home.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said back to me, already distracted by doing something else.

I took another minute to look at him before stepping out of our one-and-a-half-bedroom house that had seen better days. To put it nicely, this place was a total shithole, with a ceiling that dripped every time it rained and wooden floors that creaked under your feet, but it was where we grew up and what we called home. Meaning it was mine to protect. Ignacio was my family, the only one I had left, which was why sometimes, I had to be an asshole. Especially when it came to that girl he was seeing, Tess. She was bad news, pulling him into circles he should’ve stayed the fuck away from. But whenever I tried warning him, he’d just say they were having fun.

What a stupid-ass word. People like us should stay the hell away from fun because all it ever did was fuck things up.

2

SANTIAGO

Riding the bus and waiting for it to arrive at my station, I watched a boxing match from last night’s championship. Both fighters were great, but not better than me. If only I were just being cocky or delusional… but I wasn’t. The truth was that instead of being in those matches myself, winning belts and titles, I had to watch them on a cracked screen while squeezed into the back of the bus like a complete loser. But knowing there were worse things to lose in life than a dream, I pushed the thought aside and went on. After all, there was no point in crying over spilled milk when you never had money for the milk to begin with. And just like I’d promised myself when I got out, things would be different this time around. I got a second chance, a new beginning, and I wouldn’t let my bad temper and shitty past mess with it, not when Nacio counted on me. And not just him, but Papá and Mamá. Just in case they were watching from the sky, I wanted to make sure they were proud.

The bus stopped at my station, and I checked the time to see that there were about thirty minutes left before my interview.

Sweet.

Feeling lucky for a change, I shoved my phone in my pocket and was ready to get off the bus with the rest of the passengers when someone bumped into me. Next thing I knew, cold coffee was spilled all over me, drenching my shirt and fucking suit.

My eyes widened, my pulse quickened with rage as I watched the asshole who spilled it on me getting off the bus, not even stopping to apologize, as he was too busy speaking on the phone like he was some big shot. Well, if he were, I bet he wouldn’t take the bus, would he?