Crystal’s six-foot-five-gas-pumping-maniac-of-a-brother, Robert, kicked open the bedroom door. “How did you get in here?” he screamed at Dot and Ruben. “I saw all the lights on from the street …” He ran into Crystal’s room. Miguel and D.B. were making out. Mary was sharing a cigarette with the Gooch while Steve sipped the tequila, saliva dribbling out of his mouth. Sonny was changing a record. “MOTHER OF CHRIST!” Robert rushed back to his parents’ bedroom and grabbed Dot by the arm. He dragged her back into Crystal’s room like King Kong, with Ruben following behind. “I saw the lights on …” he repeated. “I didn’t do anything,” Dot whined. “Let go of my arm.” Robert’s fingers left five red spots just above Dot’s wrist. She cowered away to sit by Sonny next to her records. “That hurt,” she whispered, rubbing her arm. “You thee, Crythal thaid we could come over and–” Mary began, lisping more than usual because she was terrified. “WHAT? WHAT?”
