Chapter 3
Chapter 3
"What is it, little brother?"
Mauricio staggered forward with that same crooked grin that had haunted me for years.
"So the freeloader's still hanging around?"
He pointed the tequila bottle at me and laughed.
"Didn't the message get through this afternoon, sweetheart?"
"Or do you need another lesson?"
Arturo still gripped my wrist, but I could feel his hand trembling.
He stepped halfway between us—not to protect me, but to keep Mauricio from exploding.
"Easy, Mau," Arturo muttered. "She was just leaving."
"She came for a few things."
"Let her go."
Mauricio's face twisted.
"The hell she is!"
He hurled the tequila bottle onto the pavement.
Green glass exploded across the sidewalk, spraying shards around our feet.
"In this house, I make the rules."
"My mother makes the rules."
"This woman will never set foot in our yard again."
Then he turned toward Arturo.
"And if you keep acting like her lapdog..."
"You can pack your bags too."
"I'll throw your worthless ass out of the warehouse."
"Let's see how you feed yourself without me."
Silence settled over the street.
Only the slow drip of tequila onto the dusty pavement broke it.
Arturo looked at me.
I watched him weigh everything inside his head.
On one side...
His job.
His mother's house.
His brother's approval.
His pride.
On the other...
Me.
Our unborn son.
The scale never moved.
Slowly...
He released my wrist.
Like he was letting go of something worthless.
Then he stepped backward.
Right beside Mauricio.
Standing exactly where he had always belonged.
With his real family.
"Leave, Elena."
He couldn't even look me in the eyes.
"You heard Mauricio."
"You don't belong here anymore."
I looked at both brothers.
One violent.
One cowardly.
Together...
They had nearly killed me.
"You're right."
My voice was strangely calm.
"I don't belong here anymore."
"But remember this day, Arturo."
"Remember it well."
"When this child is born..."
"You'll choke on every word you've spoken."
Then I looked directly at Mauricio.
"And you..."
"I swear on my mother's memory..."
"Life will make you pay for every single blow you gave me."
I turned away.
Carefully stepping around the broken glass.
I never looked back.
If I had...
I knew I would lose the little strength I still possessed.
As I walked farther from that cursed street...
A single thought began burning inside me.
I had to find El Jefe.
And I had to make all three of them pay.
Not just Mauricio.
Not just Arturo.
Every single one of them.
Behind me...
The heavy iron gate screeched shut once again.
This time...
It didn't hurt.
It sounded like the opening shot of a war.
The "Olvera Brothers Auto Repair" shop was nothing more than a giant sheet-metal warehouse.
It held three things.
Disassembled engines.
The permanent smell of burned oil and solvents.
And the unshakable arrogance of two men who believed the world belonged to them simply because they were born male.
By noon...
The sun hammered against the tin roof so fiercely that the air inside felt almost solid.
Mauricio sat on the fender of an old pickup truck, wrench in hand, sweat soaking through the back of his shirt.
A few feet away...
Arturo scrubbed wheel studs with a wire brush.
His head stayed lowered.
Moving with the automatic obedience of someone who had forgotten how to think for himself.
Then...
An old taxi pulled up outside.
Its engine coughed loudly before stopping.
Dust rolled through the open workshop.
The rear door slowly opened.
Elena stepped out.
She wasn't the same woman who had left bleeding a week earlier.
She no longer dragged worn-out sandals across the ground.
She no longer wrapped trembling arms around her stomach.
Today...
She wore faded but clean jeans.
Black sneakers.
And carried a blue plastic folder tightly against her chest.
The passenger door opened.
An elderly man climbed out with a noticeable limp.
Don Sergio.
The retired carpenter from my parents' old neighborhood.
Seventy years old.
Hands hardened by decades of honest work.
Eyes filled with a dignity this neighborhood had long forgotten.
Mauricio looked up.
He forced out a sarcastic laugh.
Though his grip tightened around the wrench.
"Well, look what the wind dragged back."
He jumped down from the truck.
Steel-toe boots slammed against the stained concrete floor.
"You finally came to beg for money again?"
"Too bad we don't support freeloaders around here."
"Especially crazy women who go around slandering family."
Arturo dropped the wire brush onto the workbench.
Metal screeched across steel.
He glanced from Elena...
To Don Sergio...
And something between shame and anger flushed across his face.
"What are you doing here, Elena?"
"I told you not to come causing problems at the shop."
"I already sent five hundred pesos to my mother for you."
"Don't make another scene in front of customers."
Elena never even blinked.
She calmly walked into the center of the garage.
Stopping where years of leaking oil had stained the concrete black.
Don Sergio remained beside her...
Arms folded.
Watching everything in complete silence.
Then Elena spoke.
"I returned your five hundred pesos to your mother this morning."
"I left it on the quesadilla stand."
May you like
"Maybe she can buy herself a clean apron."
"I'm not here for your charity."
