clouded.
During the ride, the cab driver — he was bald, overweight, with a thick mustache; reminded her of the uncle who’d once molested her — was staring at her in the rearview, literally licking his lips. What was it with these men? At a deserted area where there were lots of dunes and nothing else he pulled over, leaned back, and seemed to be unbuckling his belt.
Angela went Irish, said, “Drive this car right now, or you’ll get what yeh deserve, yah fookin’ bastard.”
The guy had probably never met a woman like Angela before. He recognized that this was the voice of a woman who did not fuck around and with a look of sheer terror he buckled his belt and put the car back in drive.
Then he got a call on his cell, and started looking at Angela in the rearview again. Later, she’d realize that this was another mistake, that she should’ve gotten out of that car and run like hell.
At the port, Angela found out there was a ferry to Lesbos leaving in a few minutes. She chuckled, thinking, after her recent experiences with men, maybe Lesbos wasn’t such a bad idea.
At dusk, the ferry arrived at the Lesbos port and she beelined for the closest taverna, right across from the docks. Finally, ouzo. Jaysus wept, she downed twoshots, asked for a third. When the bartender gave her the drink she noticed the two cops. They were standing near the door, looking right at her. She was going to make a run for it, but knew it was pointless. She chugged the last shot, figuring, Might as well go out with a bang.
Six
“He turned on the TV but he lay on his bed with his back to it because it was a liar. It held up pictures and said you could be like them but it didn’t tell you how easily everything fell to pieces.”
M ATTHEW S TOKOE , Cows
Sino wasn’t buying Max Fisher’s bullshit, everybody sayin’ he’d cut off a man’s dick. Sino knew the only thing that white puta businessman ever cut into was his goddamn steak at Smith & Wollensky. Lying maricon .
Yeah, Sino knew lots of bandajo s like Max Fisher. He grew up in the South Bronx, by Yankee Stadium. Shit, this was eighties and early nineties, bro, the glory days when crack was king and the Bronx wasn’t burning, the shit was already burned. You were growing up in the Bronx then, you needed some money to get high, the Stadium was the place to go. Scalping tickets, man, Sino didn’t waste his time with that mierda . Serious pesos was in protection. All those suit-and-tie bitches would come up to the games in the summer, be in their Mercedes and BMWs and shit, parking in the cheap lots, like five blocks away from the stadium. Now come on, man, what’s up with that loco shit? Man has millions of dollars, lives in some damn mansionsomewhere, down on Fifth Avenue, and he can’t even pay for stadium parking? Puta deserve to get his pesos taken.
Sino and his boy would be hanging out in the lots, going up to the cheap motherfuckers saying, “Want me to watch your car for you during the game? Cost fifty dollars.”
Yeah, see what the stingy bandajo ’s gonna do then. They wanna go to Stadium parking and pay twenty dollars and miss part the game or they wanna pay Sino to not get their car fucked up? Most gringos paid the man, no problema , jefe , but sometimes a man got cheap, wouldn’t pay, or said they were gonna call a cop. Wrong answer, my man. Yeah, if motherfuckers got cheap, they didn’t wanna pay, they were gonna pay anyway. Sino and his boy would fuck up the windshield, pop the tires, shit like that. But if they said they was gonna call a cop, shit, that was when the real fun started. Then they got to fuck the guy up, break some bones, see some blood.
This one time, a rich maricon from Manhattan, kinda looked like Max Fisher, said he wouldn’t pay the money. The puta just walked away, laughing, the maricon was fuckin’ laughing, disrespecting Sino’s whole crew and shit. So Sino and his boy took their bats and played some ball, Bronx style. They
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