Savages

“Five. Three of ours, two civilians.”

Elena says, “Find the families, pay the funeral expenses.”

“I feel strongly,” Beltran says, “that you should go to the finca for a while, where we can look after you.”

“You’re supposed to be looking after me here,” Elena says. She stares at him until his eyes drop and he looks at the table. She sighs and says, “Very well, I will go to the finca.”

The door opens and Hernan bursts in.

“Mother, I just heard. Thank God.”

He kisses her cheek, turns to Beltran, and yells, “Why aren’t you doing your job?! I swear, if my mother had been hurt …”

Hernan doesn’t finish the threat. Instead he says, “We have to respond to this. We can’t let them think they can act with impunity. Find who did this and—”

“We know who they are,” Beltran says.

Elena looks at him, surprised.

“Azul is recruiting soldiers in the States,” Beltran explains. “Literally soldiers—Mexicans fresh out of the U.S. Army. They know how to do these IEDs. They learned it in Iraq.”

“Get them,” Hernan says.

“They’re probably across the border already.”

“Give it to Lado,” Elena says.

238

O and Esteban like to smoke up, eat pizza, and watch The Biggest Loser.

Bolting fat greasy carbs while stone-watching a show about people trying to lose weight is perverse enough to satisfy O’s boredom and, as has been mentioned, the girl likes to grub.

Esteban just likes smoking up, watching television, and being with O.

The pizza, too. Tonight’s is an extra-large pepperoni with hamburger, green pepper, and extra cheese. Esteban doesn’t like the green pepper but he does like to keep O happy.

Anyway, O is fascinated that she’s fascinated with the idea of watching an activity that you can’t actually see. It’s like, television, right, but you can’t see fat burning inside any of these obese bodies. But you can watch them sweat and groan and cry, and in addition to the pure pleasure of troughing out while they’re starving, O has developed an affection for some of them.

It’s, like, they’re trying to do something.

Change their lives for the better.

It’s admirable.

Unlike yourself, she says to herself one night.

“Let’s face it,” she says to Esteban, “I’m pretty much a useless twat.”

Esteban knows “useless”—fregado—he doesn’t know “twat.”

“When I get out of here,” O says, “if I get out of here—”

“You will.”

“I’m going to do something with my life.”

“What?”

Well, that’s the prob, ese, Este.

I have no fucking idea.

239

Lado crawls into bed.

To give the wife a little.

What she needs, a good stiff dick.

He nudges his between the warm cheeks of her ass and rubs it up and down, seeking an invitation.

Delores gets up and out of bed. “Give it to your putana. I don’t want it.”

Lado’s in no mood. He has a lot on his mind. The war, the tombe, now the attempt on Elena and increased security on her brat of a daughter, who doesn’t think she needs security. And now Delores forgets her place. “Get your butt back here.”

“No thank you.”

“I said get your fucking ass back in this bed.”

“Make me.”

Okay, that’s a mistake.

He’s out of the sheets in a flash. She’s forgotten how quick he is, how strong he is—the first slap sends her reeling against the wall, her ears ringing as he grabs her, throws her on the bed, lands on top of her, pins both wrists above her head with his one big hand.

He pushes her thighs apart with his knee.

“This the way you want it, bitch?”

“I don’t want it.”

Maybe not, but she gets it.

He takes his time, too.

Afterward, coming out of the bathroom, she says, “I want a divorce.”

He laughs. “You want what?”

“A divorce.”

“What you’re going to get is a beating,” Lado says, “you don’t shut your mouth now.”

Delores backs into the doorway. “I already talked to a lawyer. He said I’d get half the house, the money, custody of the kids …”

Lado nods.

He could beat the fucking shit out of her but he has something worse for her than a beating. He smiles and says, “Delores, if you go through with this, I will take the kids to Mexico and you will never, ever see them again. You know that’s the truth, you know I’ll do it, so stop acting foolish and come back to bed.”

She stands in the doorway for a few seconds.

She knows him.

Who he is.

What he does.

She gets back in bed.

240

Elena packs a few things.

She only needs a few things because she has complete sets of everything she needs at all her residences. Each house, she thinks, sits full and ready, waiting only for my presence to complete its emptiness.

There’s a knock on the door and she knows from its tentativeness that it’s Hernan. She lets him in and he asks, “Are you ready to go to the finca?”

“Yes, all ready.”

They go downstairs, then out into the courtyard and into the car that has been specially fitted with armor siding. Beltran, anxious, hovers like a mother hen, sees them into the car, and gets into a heavily armed Suburban in front of them.

They drive several blocks, then Elena orders the driver to take a left.