Killing Malmon by Dan Malmon

Author:Dan Malmon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Down & Out Books

“Dime otra vez.”

Tomás wanted me to tell the St. Paul story again.

The sun was just going down on us, painting Tomás backyard in an orange glow. He stood in front of his grill with me next to him, sipping a cold Modelo and eyeing the meat. I told him the story again and resisted telling him to flip my steak over.

It’d been a few days since I’d returned to Juarez.

“I sent you to talk, Beto,” Tomás said and flipped the steaks he was cooking. “Not to do—” he paused and took a sip of his own Tecate, “—that.”

“Lo sé.” I know. “But you should have seen Malmon, Tomás, the guy was an asshole. It would have never worked out. I mean, if the guy got all uptight over some ketchup on a sandwich, can you imagine how many rules he would have had for us? Now he’s gone and we can move in.”

Grabbing a plate, Tomás plopped a steak into it. “That’s still not why I sent you there.”

“Lla no chinges,” I said. “I figured it out on the bus ride back. You did send me there for this. I mean, maybe not like how it played out, but I bet you figured either I would make a deal with Malmon, he would kill me or I would kill him.” Accepting the plate, I moved to the small table where Tomás had laid out the utensils and other food for the barbecue.

“Maybe,” Tomás said.

“What I can’t figure out is why? What did I do to piss you off?”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

I turned around, plate still in my hand. “What?”

Pointing at my left hand with his grilling fork, Tomás said. “That’s why. That’s why I sent you to St. Paul.”

Blinking, I glanced to my hand. I’d put my beer down on the table and had picked up a bottle of steak sauce. “Huh?”

“Last time you were here you did the same thing. What puto puts steak sauce on a steak?” Tomás asked, his entire body shaking. “How do you even taste the meat when it’s smothered in that crap?”

“Me gusta el sabor,” I said.

“Really thought you learned your lesson, Beto,” Tomás said. Dropping the fork by the grill, he reached into his leather holstered and withdrew his bull horn. The paleness of horn was broken with splotches of faded red. They reminded me of ketchup stains.

I gripped the neck of the steak sauce bottle tighter, my eyes jumping from la carne to Tomás and back. “I like the taste,” I repeated.

Our eyes met, and we waited for the first one to make the next move.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.