The pressure on my throat increases, strange gurgling sounds come from my mouth, my fingers claw at his arm.
And then just as I realize I’ve taken my last breath, the pressure is gone and sweet air rushes in.
“What the hell?” It’s Designer Jeans. He’s pulled Emilio off, and now is standing between us.
I should take this as my cue to exit stage right, but I’m too busy doubling over sucking wind to try anything.
“This has nothing to do with you, Jack.”
So that’s his name. He doesn’t look like a Jack. More like a Raoul or something else more dangerous and exotic.
“It damn well is my business, Emilio. Especially, if you’re gonna bring on the heat because you can’t keep your cool and end up killing some sorry excuse for a hustler.”
My head clears, and all of a sudden, I’m super attentive
