Temperature in the eighties. Hot, dry winds coming out of the west, Aliento del Diablo—Devil’s Breath—blowing dust and palm fronds everywhere. Fine for tourists with nothing better to do than go to the beach in their air-conditioned cars but brutal for men working construction. Even the boss, Miguel, on the second deck, nailing plywood with the pneumatic nail gun, is shirtless. And maybe it’s the heat as well but Luis is finding Leo and his nonstop opinions tough to take today. “This ain’t the friggin’ Dark Ages, Luis. Your wife wants to work, you let her work.” “A wife of mine, she don’t work.” “Why? ’Cause she has to make you lunch every day?” Maybe it isn’t the heat. Leo has been out of sorts of late. Women on the brain. Luis has certainly had his fair share of trouble with women. Fortunately, he learned at any early age to pay no attention to the pretty ones, not when their less attractive sisters were more attentive. Unfortunately, the pretty ones, realizing they were being ignored, could still cause you problems.
