—I worry about you, you know, Don Chan said.

—You don’t have to worry.

All Esperanza did was complain and talk about Bobby in the third person. —Bobby is lost to the streets. It’s too late for him. If only Santo were around.

—You show up at four in the morning and you gonna tell me not to worry.

Let them think what they will, Bobby thought, fearing that the more he disclosed about the computer work he was doing with Ed, the less likely his dreams would become real. People who talk have nothing. It’s the quiet ones who move ahead. And Bobby was keeping quiet about his ideas. To marry Hush in a church, her in white, him in a tux, him carrying her through a doorway to a two-family house. They would live on the income they earned from the other tenants who would rent from them. He had already looked at the prices of some property up in Castle Hill, in the Bronx, and how much a mortgage would cost him. He figured they’d have a small yard so Hush’s baby could swim in one of those plastic pools, and they could barbecue in the summer. The Colón family could visit them on weekends. They would set up the extra bedroom for his mother’s visits. He was waiting until Hush turned eighteen, until she had the baby, until she was ready to kiss him with those bee-stung lips of hers. My sweet little Hush. He wasn’t going to hurt her like her stepfather or any other man had.

—It’s that Esperanza who got you crazy, Santo. She already has you working for her father.

Don Chan held the cigar in his mouth, enjoying the taste of the tobacco. —When one man knows what another man is hungry for, he’s got you by the balls.

—You hungry? Don Chan waited for Bobby to answer. Bobby was busy looking over at the sofa in the living room and pretending not to listen.

—No, I’m not. I ate something before I came here.

—Hunger makes men do crazy things. But we haven’t lost yet…, Don Chan said.

—Lost what?

—Our country, mijo. You’re working for the wrong man. He’s selling us away. And because they’re starving us to death, we sell ourselves. If we don’t stop them, we’ll spend our lives scratching a güiro on beaches to entertain them.

—That’s why I’m working for myself.

Don Chan and his mother thought he was dealing. But it wasn’t the night to try and convince Don Chan otherwise. Not at four in the morning. He had spent eight hours in front of a computer screen.

—So why are you hanging on the corner? Coming home late at night?

—I don’t hang on the corner.

—Yes you do, Don Chan said. —I see you there every day.

—It’s not what you think.

—Let them assume, let them think what they want, Bobby mumbled under his breath as he grabbed a beer from the fridge. Bobby wasn’t sleepy. He hardly ever slept anymore. When he went to bed, all he could think about was the fact that Hush was close to him. He spent most nights contemplating kissing her. What would she do? Would she be mad? When would it be the right time to approach her? Did she already know how he felt about her?