Free Seven Ways to Kill a Cat by Matias Nespolo Page A

from them a couple of times. The prices are better than El Jetita’s. But from there it’s a pretty big stretch to think Charly is trying muscle in on his turf. There’s no way he could do it. He’d have to take down General Jetita and all his top brass first, then co-opt all his middle-ranking officers. The list would be too long. And it wouldn’t be like shooting ducks at a fair.
    ‘So what about these two?’ Fat Farías can’t believe what he’s hearing. ‘Whose side d’you think they’re on,
viejo
? Because I’m telling you, I still think they’re the fuckers who robbed me –’
    ‘You dissing me, Gordo?’ Chueco jumps up. ‘Because I’ll break your –’
    ‘Shut the fuck up.’ El Jetita cuts him dead and goes back to being the peacemaker. ‘You’re wrong, Gordo. The boys are working with me. You think I don’t know who I’ve on my team? Chill. You’ve got your watch back, so stop busting my balls. Now, let’s strike camp.’
    All the time El Jetita’s been banging on, Rubén has been staring at us stone-faced from behind Fat Farías. The others can’t see him, but we can. He gives us a wink and runs his finger across his throat.
    When the big boss is done talking, we all troop out of the kitchen. Rubén and El Negro Sosa sit at the bar. The skinny runt Fabían heads off. El Jetita stops in the doorway chatting to Fat Farías.
    ‘Let’s bounce,’ whispers Chueco.
    And we’re about to leave when El Jetita calls us. He takes a couple of steps towards us with a fuck-off smile tattooed on his face. He’s acting all friendly again.
    ‘Kids,’ he says in a low voice, ‘what can you do with them? You give them a simple little job and they land you in the shit.’
    Chueco opens his hands, palms up, raises his eyebrows, like it’s nothing to do with him. I stand there, deadpan. I don’t know what little job he’s talking about
    ‘You little fucktard.’ He starts poking his finger hard into Chueco’s chest. ‘What, am I speaking Chinese or something? I told you straight up to shake down Farías and make sure you weren’t seen and you show up here wearing his watch, rubbing his face in it? What is it, you got shit for brains or have you been sniffing something?’
    Chueco clicks his tongue. He shakes his head. He’s pale. Everything’s starting to fall into place for me. The fifty he was flashing in the bar before we did over Fat Farías wasn’t snide like he said it was. It was front money. And fuck knows how much he got for doing the job. The worst thing is, I went along with it and I didn’t have a fucking clue. And I didn’t get a peso out of it. So that’s how it is, Chueco, you lowlife
hijo de puta
. You play me for a fool and you don’t even tell me what’s going down – you even make me think I’m the one who gave you the idea to fuck Farías over. Have to hand it to you, you played me good … until now. Because from now on, you can go fuck yourself.
    ‘A complete balls-up,’ El Jetita says like he can read my mind, ‘and now Gordo is on to you … Dumb fucking kids …’ he swears under his breath, his jaw clenched so Fat Farías can’t overhear.
    He stares at us, sparks a cigarette and makes like he’s thinking.
    ‘OK, kids,’ El Jetita says, the fake smile plastered over his face. The bastard knows how to make someone brick it. ‘Let me tell you how this is going to go. I’m going to let this one slide, but I’ve got you by the balls now, so you’d better do exactly what I tell you, because the first sign of any shit I’m going to rip them off. You get me?’
    He turns before we’ve got a chance to say anything, and heads over to Fat Farías.
    We walk three blocks in silence. Me thinking about my shit, Chueco thinking about his. Suddenly, I decide I’m sick of his crap, so I start spoiling for a fight – but I play dumb. I make like I haven’t worked out what’s going on.
    ‘So, you going to turn the tables on that fat fucker?’
    ‘Shut the fuck