“Didn't think you'd be able to run like that on Vicodin,” Bobby told me. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, looking at his sweat drip down and stain the sidewalk.
I gave a thumbs up. “No problem. When I was competing I could run like that after two days of drinking and doing coke-”
Ace elbowed me, Kid present!
“Drinking Coca-Cola,” I said lamely.
“Yeah. All that sugar is bad for performance,” Bobby said just as lamely, looking at Ace with an apology.
Nolan looked at us, offended. “I know what coke is.”
“You do?” Ace said, genuinely surprised. His mouth twisted. He seemed to be having an epiphany, and not his pleasant one.
“Dad.” Nolan was exasperated. “I live in Juarez.”
“But you go to private school.”
“Yeah, with La Familia's kids.”
“Oh.” Ace pondered that, eyes shifting, compu
