Lupe uncurled from the couch and glided barefoot across the spotted gold carpet. She shut the front door, double-bolting it. “There’s no reason to shout. These walls are paper-thin. You want the neighbors to hear you? God knows, I had to listen to them arguing all afternoon. He got fired, you know.”

“The guy next door? The fat one with the long hair?”

Lupe shrugged. “I guess so. I didn’t see him. I just heard them screaming at each other.”

I put the mace back in the purse, which I dropped on the floor. “What about you? Aren’t you working anymore?”

She didn’t say anything. She looked at the TV, where two men were scuffling silently on a cliff. Eventually one of them fell over the edge, and she looked back at me. “I had the feeling my brother was still looking for me, particularly since I didn’t go home last night.”

“Good guess. He was at my office today.”

“Oh Christ, I’m sorry. I didn’t think he’d find you.” She sat back down on the couch and began cracking her knuckles nervously. “Did you eat yet?” she asked. “I could make you an omelet.”

“There isn’t any food in the house.” I sighed, rubbing my right shoulder and dropping into a chair across from the couch.

“I went to the store and bought a few things. I make the eggs with guacamole. You can have some tortillas. You’ll feel better.” She got up and headed for the kitchen, obviously glad to have something to do.

“What about your boy?” I said in the dark. “Don’t you have to go home to take care of him?”

Lupe stopped in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen. She was outlined by the opaque white light coming from a street lamp. She turned to face me, but I couldn’t see her face clearly.

“My mom’s taking care of him for me.”

“Did your brother tell your mother what you’ve been doing?” There are a lot of low things in the world, but you keep your parents out of it. At least that’s the way I do it. None of my personal life gets to my father. Zip.

“I don’t know. It would kill her. I thought I could pull it off. Make some money and get out.”

“That’s probably what Cathy Vega thought, too.” I wished I hadn’t said that. We stared across the darkness at each other.

“Let me have a couple tortillas with that,” I said finally, more for a way of ending the silence than because I was really hungry. I picked up my purse, pushed myself up from the chair and headed for the shower.