Mario waved the gun wildly, his face twisted with suspicion and cheap liquor. Elias kept his hands raised, calm but tense.
“Well, you brown gringo,” Mario roared, “I’m waiting to be courted!”
“I’m sorry, Mario, but you’re really not my type,” Elias quipped — uncharacteristically. The gun in his face must have rattled something loose.
“Elias, is this really the time to be making jokes?” I ask, offering Mario an apologetic smile.
Before Elias could answer, Paloma stepped forward — fast, sharp, fearless.
“Well, what can you expect when you let the clown run the circus?” she said, and Ximena let out a chuckle.
“You two are more entertaining than I thought,” Ximena laughed, taking a deep swig of her drink.
“We’re more entertaining than that clown?” Paloma pointed at Mario’s threatening f
