Free Muerte Con Carne by Shane McKenzie Page B

I miss them. Is that crazy?”
    “Not at all.”
    They sat there for a few minutes, just staring down at the photo. Felix leaned over, checked the time at the bottom corner of the laptop’s monitor. “Damn, we’ve been in here for almost three hours.”
    “And that’s a bad thing?”
    Felix’s stomach rumbled. “Of course not. I was just thinking maybe I can score us some more tacos, fill our bellies before we head out and check out this spot of yours.”
    Her face lit up. “That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.”
    “Really? The food’s the best idea?”
    She raised an eyebrow. “Yep. You were good, but you ain’t got shit on those tacos.”
    Marta wanted to try something different from the trailer this time, told Felix to surprise her. She told him how to get there and he started toward the door.
    “Wait,” she said. And jogged across the room just to kiss him goodbye. “Hurry.”
     
    ***
     
    There was only a small amount of meat left, and Alma made them each a plate. They sat at the table, Cristobal sipping on a Tecate between bites. He licked his fingers and watched Alma sloppily stuff stringy meat strips into her mouth.
    “I’m sorry. Okay? But I don’t know how many fuckin’ times I gotta tell you, Alma.” Cristobal hadn’t hit her that hard, had held back on purpose, but he still let her know she was out of line. “You have to control yourself…especially at home. I’m serious.” If Mamá ever found out…
    “I know,” she said, and took another large bite. “I will. I’m sorry.”
    Cristobal reached across the table and grabbed her wrist. She dropped her plastic fork and a dollop of greasy meat plopped into her lap. She bared her teeth, tried to pull away, but Cristobal squeezed until she was still.
    “What happened was a mistake. You understand that shit? A fuckin’ mistake. Get that shit through your ugly fuckin’ head. That?” He pointed to her belly. “That shit ain’t right. You know it ain’t right. You think I’m just gonna sit back and let you have it? If that baby makes it out of you I’ll kill it. You hear me, Alma? I’ll fuckin’ kill it before it has a chance to take its first breath. Mamá can’t know-”
    “She won’t, Cristobal. I’ll just tell her I met someone…a customer. Anybody. But not you. She’ll never know it was you. How will she know?”
    “She’ll know. Mamá will know.”
    Alma shook her head, grimacing at the growing pressure around her wrist. “I want my baby. It’s mine. You can’t stop me from having my baby. Our-”
    “You shut the fuck up! Don’t you fuckin’ say it.”
    “Let me go. Let me go! ” She picked up her fork with her free hand and stabbed him in the arm. The plastic broke on impact, but it pinched enough that Cristobal released her.
    “You fuckin’ bitch. Stupid fuckin’ whore! ”
    “Hey!”
    Cristobal paused, his hands halfway across the table. Alma stood, stepped away from him, rubbed her wrist and glared at the tall Hispanic man walking toward them.
    Cristobal launched himself to his feet, curled his hands into fists, and stomped toward the stranger. “What the fuck did you say, ese?”
    “Why don’t you just calm down, okay? She’s pregnant, man. You’re gonna beat on your pregnant wife?”
    Cristobal’s eye twitched as he continued taking steps toward this man. The closer he got to him, the more fear he could see on the guy’s face. “Wife? That’s my sister, pinche pendejo. What the fuck you tryin’ to say?”
    “Okay, your sister. It doesn’t…I’m not trying to say anything, man. Just calm down.”
    Cristobal thrust his head forward, catching the man on the bridge of the nose with his forehead.
    “Fuuuck!”
    The man fell backward, clutching his nose with both hands as blood ran down from between his fingers. Alma stepped up beside Cristobal, hugged him from the side.
    “Fuck him up.”
    “Get the hell off me, Alma. What did I say?” He shoved her in the chest, but she smiled