“Come on. If she did, she’d have said something. Or tried to sue me instead of throwing a drink on me.” My stupid ass got lucky. While she got fired. He cringed.

“Well, let’s get outta here. I’ll drop you at your place.”

The owner materialized at the foot of the couch. “Um, Duke, sir, I think we need to run another card. I’m really sorry, this one has been declined.”

“No way. Run it again.”

“We ran it four times. I’m sorry. They want me to cut up the Visa. But I won’t do that.” He handed the card to a perplexed Duke, who let it hang limply between his fingers. He tried to exude cool and confidence, but he had a bad feeling. What’s going on?

Roland slapped the table, loudly. “Well, it’s a good thing this was on the house, am I right?” The tall ex-Bronx Bolt gave the owner a meaningful look.

“Yep. Yep, that is exactly what I was thinking. You boys have a nice night, and please, come again.”

Chapter Six

“Mom. Mama.”

“Hmm.”

“Mama. Mama. Ma.”

“What? I’m sleeping.”

“I’m hungry.”

“You can make toast. You have my permission.” She drew the blanket over her head.

“I did. But it’s smoking.”

Angel threw back the comforter, tiny feathers erupting into a mushroom cloud, and ran to the kitchen.

After unplugging a flaming toaster and throwing it in the sink, she gave Jose a bowl of Tastee-O’s, using the last of the milk on the cereal and adding a few shriveled blueberries. She settled for the remaining heel from the loaf of bread and a mug of reheated coffee.

While he ate, she sponged soot off the walls. She was wiping dark streaks from the glass on a framed poster—it was a cheap reproduction of the Puerto Rican painter Botello’s Cabeza—when she heard Jose sniffle and say, “I’m sorry I got that on you, Mama.”

She put the sponge down and picked him up, even though he was too big for that, balancing him on her hip. “What do you mean?”

“She looks like you. The pretty lady in the painting. Auntie Gabriela thinks so, too. And now she’s dirty.”

“Oh, sheesh, it came right off. See?” They cocked their heads to the same side, mother and son, studying the painting. The woman had high cheekbones, full lips, and gold at the center of her broody cat eyes. She looks like she’s exhausted and angry at the world, so, yeah.

“You’re prettier than she is.”

Angel grinned at him. “Uh-huh, and what is it you want, little man?”

“If I promise not to talk to you, will you stay home today?”

Good mood: shredded.

“We’ve got a while before my rounds start. Let’s go cuddle in bed and read Magic Tree House, what do you say?”