little dog had died. I hate dogs , he mused to himself. I would kill every last one of those motherfuckers , and thought about the incident that happened to him in his childhood. A snarling, barking German Shepherd dog had run up to him and chomped onto his upper, right thigh, leaving several puncture wounds.
He was shaken out of his thoughts when Lucinda asked whether he would like something to drink. As she made her way into the kitchen to fix him a scotch on the rocks, as Juan had requested, he scanned the living room.
Every inch and corner were a lot better than the kind of places where Juan had spent his last six years. He got up and looked at the comfortable furniture and the dark carpeting. He decided that when he left this place, he would be taking some of the goodies with him, with his brother’s consent or without. My brother would understand, and he always knows , he thought to himself, smiling.
Lucinda came back into the room surprised to see a standard 9-mm caliber pistol lying flat on the sofa where Juan had been sitting. She stood there shocked and frightened and saw Juan come hurrying toward her, with a menacingly devious smile on his face.
Chapter Two
They all sat at the dining table as Octa and Juan reminisced about the years they had spent together and cracked jokes. Lucinda was still a bit shaken up by the incident that happened earlier. Why does he need to carry a gun? The fact that they both laughed so hard about how Juan had given her a real fright was getting her down as well. “It’s a gun, and I can never get used to a gun.” Questions kept running in and out of her mind as she toyed with the string beans on her plate.
Juan suddenly spoke up. “I guess you guys are wondering why I’m here.”
“It’s about time,” Octa said, looking at his smirking brother.
Juan coyly looked across the table at Lucinda and said, “I’m looking for a place to stay for a couple of days.”
Lucinda and Octa exchanged looks, and he asked Juan, “How come?”
Juan moved in his seat uncomfortably and started to explain. “. . . well, the gambling den . . . things turned on me and . . . I lost an enormous investment that cost me everything . . .
“You lost all your money gambling? How could you be so stupid, Juan? How long will it take you to understand that . . . ?”
Juan cut him off as he tried to explain how it wasn’t his fault, but Lucinda knew it probably was. Lucinda started clearing off the dinner table as her husband and his brother went on arguing. She didn’t trust Juan, and she knew the accounts he was telling were not the complete story.
Later that night she lay in bed with her husband, brushing her fingers through his hair as he kissed her neck and tickled her lightly now and then. She was waiting for the right time to talk to him. After a few passionate moments, Octa rolled over on his side as Lucinda wrapped herself up in the sheets.
“How long will he be staying with us?” she asked softly, not knowing how to start off the conversation.
“Juan? I don’t know. Could be a couple of weeks, I guess . . .”
“Will he keep that gun?”
Octa let out a cackle and kissed her forehead. “I’ll ask him to keep it put away. He wouldn’t hurt you, Lucinda. He was just messing with you, and he’s just weird that way.”
Octa tried to comfort her, but she sat up. “He has a problem with gambling,” she said with urgency in her tone. “He could be provoked to do a lot of things and in this neighborhood . . . he could easily get someone to help him. The house alone is annually insured for two thousand dollars, and he might not hurt us physically, but . . .”
“Relax . . . calm down . . . what’s up with you?” Octa gave her a concerned look.
“I just think we need to be careful. We can’t risk everything this way . . . It would be just. . .” Lucinda was still speaking, when Octa cut her off.
“You don’t need to worry yourself, honey. It’s alright. Maisey’s
He was shaken out of his thoughts when Lucinda asked whether he would like something to drink. As she made her way into the kitchen to fix him a scotch on the rocks, as Juan had requested, he scanned the living room.
Every inch and corner were a lot better than the kind of places where Juan had spent his last six years. He got up and looked at the comfortable furniture and the dark carpeting. He decided that when he left this place, he would be taking some of the goodies with him, with his brother’s consent or without. My brother would understand, and he always knows , he thought to himself, smiling.
Lucinda came back into the room surprised to see a standard 9-mm caliber pistol lying flat on the sofa where Juan had been sitting. She stood there shocked and frightened and saw Juan come hurrying toward her, with a menacingly devious smile on his face.
Chapter Two
They all sat at the dining table as Octa and Juan reminisced about the years they had spent together and cracked jokes. Lucinda was still a bit shaken up by the incident that happened earlier. Why does he need to carry a gun? The fact that they both laughed so hard about how Juan had given her a real fright was getting her down as well. “It’s a gun, and I can never get used to a gun.” Questions kept running in and out of her mind as she toyed with the string beans on her plate.
Juan suddenly spoke up. “I guess you guys are wondering why I’m here.”
“It’s about time,” Octa said, looking at his smirking brother.
Juan coyly looked across the table at Lucinda and said, “I’m looking for a place to stay for a couple of days.”
Lucinda and Octa exchanged looks, and he asked Juan, “How come?”
Juan moved in his seat uncomfortably and started to explain. “. . . well, the gambling den . . . things turned on me and . . . I lost an enormous investment that cost me everything . . .
“You lost all your money gambling? How could you be so stupid, Juan? How long will it take you to understand that . . . ?”
Juan cut him off as he tried to explain how it wasn’t his fault, but Lucinda knew it probably was. Lucinda started clearing off the dinner table as her husband and his brother went on arguing. She didn’t trust Juan, and she knew the accounts he was telling were not the complete story.
Later that night she lay in bed with her husband, brushing her fingers through his hair as he kissed her neck and tickled her lightly now and then. She was waiting for the right time to talk to him. After a few passionate moments, Octa rolled over on his side as Lucinda wrapped herself up in the sheets.
“How long will he be staying with us?” she asked softly, not knowing how to start off the conversation.
“Juan? I don’t know. Could be a couple of weeks, I guess . . .”
“Will he keep that gun?”
Octa let out a cackle and kissed her forehead. “I’ll ask him to keep it put away. He wouldn’t hurt you, Lucinda. He was just messing with you, and he’s just weird that way.”
Octa tried to comfort her, but she sat up. “He has a problem with gambling,” she said with urgency in her tone. “He could be provoked to do a lot of things and in this neighborhood . . . he could easily get someone to help him. The house alone is annually insured for two thousand dollars, and he might not hurt us physically, but . . .”
“Relax . . . calm down . . . what’s up with you?” Octa gave her a concerned look.
“I just think we need to be careful. We can’t risk everything this way . . . It would be just. . .” Lucinda was still speaking, when Octa cut her off.
“You don’t need to worry yourself, honey. It’s alright. Maisey’s
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