Trisha asked. “He’s not just some Mexican dude,” Candace said. “He’s my age. He’s smart. He’s cute. He makes me laugh.” “Ain’t nothing special about him?” “Like what?” “I don’t know. It just seems that if you go from a Puerto Rican to a Mexican, it must be something about them.” Candace shook her head. “Look, Trish, I go out with whoever I like. I don’t discriminate. It’s just a coincidence.” “Oh, okay. I didn’t want to think you had something against the brothers . . . .” “Not at all.” They were in Candace’s apartment. Trisha had all three boys with her. She cradled Willie Jr. in one arm and he sucked at her breast complacently. The other two monsters ran around the new apartment like they were on a playground. Candace never noticed how bad Trisha’s kids were. The behavior was no doubt always there, but she didn’t really see it until it was her house in danger of demolition. “You wanna check on them?” Candace suggested. “Y’all quit running around in here!”
