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“But you see, Mami, your brother got greedy. He wanted to keep all the money for himself, and when I wasn’t okay with that, he decided to steal one of my cars.”
It was a lie, and I knew it. This son of a bitch thinks he can just come in here and lie to my face? About my family?
I shake my head, anger boiling beneath the surface. Mateo stops, tilting his head to the side, scrutinizing me, and I watch his eyes darken.
“You callin’ me a liar?”
“No,” I say, breathing shakily.
“You sure? Because it looks like that’s exactly what you were doing.” He takes a step closer to me, effectively stealing the air from my lungs, suffocating me with his proximity.
“I wasn’t,” I whisper, and my eyes sting with unshed tears.
“Good, let's keep it that way.”
My lungs spasm with every inhale I take, and all I want to do is scream.
“Now, like I said, Eli stole my car out of greed. I had no choice but to press charges. Trust me when I say that five years in prison are easy compared to what could have happened.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him what that meant, but I knew. I knew without clarification, and yet there was still a part of me that wanted to hear him say it. That wanted to take that admission and run straight to Sander.
“But he still owes me a lot of money, and just because he’s locked up doesn’t mean that changes,” he says.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I mean, that you now have the pleasure of paying off your brother’s debt,” he grins widely, like he didn’t just drop that bomb in my lap.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. What the hell does he mean I have to pay this made-up debt?
“Problem?” Mateo asks, folding his hands behind his back.
“I… I can’t—”
“You can’t?” he cuts me off, that glint in his eye returning.
It’s scary how easily he turns it on and off. I wonder how much of this is merely an act, or how much is really him. Is he really a nice guy, or is it all for show?
“I don’t have that kind of money,” I admit.
He presses his lips together in a line, like he’s thinking everything over. For a split second, I can imagine him telling me not to worry about it. But I knew that wasn’t likely.
“Well, then, I guess you'll have to think of something,” he states plainly.
“Like what? I’m already up to my ears in debt. I don’t have the money to spare for some deal you struck up with my brother,” I say, my voice rising in panic with every word.
Mateo chuckles then, amused by this whole situation.
“I guess you don’t think I'm serious,” he says before gesturing to the guys behind him.
“Where are they going?” I ask, sitting up straight on the stool, ready to run if I have to.
“To prove to you how serious I am.”
Just then, I hear the shatter of a flowerpot as it crashes against the concrete of our sidewalk. I stand, moving to look out into my front yard as one guy rips my mom’s flowers up from their beds, soil littering the walkway. The other grabs a baseball bat and swings toward the garage window. I reach up and cover my head just as glass rains across the room, tinkling across the hood of the Camaro.
I see the moment he gets the idea. Returning to the garage, he’s positions himself to swing the bat through the back window of my brother’s car.
“Wait!” I yell, throwing my hands up in surrender.
