Man, you look bad.” Marlena’s nephew Rogelio was sitting in the living room with his feet up, gesturing with a Budweiser. Two young Latinos Jack Liffey had never met sat opposite with their own beers, and they were curious about his shiner, too. The TV was going but ignored, a Mexican soccer game. “This is Paco and that’s Solomon. This is Jack, Marlena’s boyfriend.” “Hey.” “Ce mal, esse?” “What happened to you, man?” “About six guys happened to me all at once. A lot of the parts you can’t see hurt, too.” “No shit, man. You need some help?” One of them was already stirring, as if to roll up his sleeves and fight. “It’ll be taken care of. Thanks. Mar in?” A beer would be good, he thought. It would also help him bond with the boys, but he’d sworn off and he meant to stay off. “She’s doing laundry, I think.” “I’d better touch home base.” “Take it easy, man.” Marlena was in the little cramped laundry room, folding underwear out of a wicker basket on top of the dryer.
