“Get on your knees.”
The guy, scared out of his mind, did exactly as he was told. He got down on his knees and looked up at Rico.
“Don’t fuckin’ look at me,” Rico said. Rico pressed the gun on the guy’s temple. “Where’s my money, José? And I want the truth!”
“Okay, man. Just chill.” When José hesitated to speak, Rico cocked the gun. “Okay, okay! I spent it. I was a little behind on the rent and I had to buy a few things for my kid. But I swear I’ma pay you back, son.”
Rico squatted down beside him so that he was at eye level with him. He looked José in the eye, while he still had the gun pressed to his head.
“You think you the only one that got a family to support? HUH?!”
José didn’t respond.
“You respond to me when I speak to you, ‘fore I blow your fuckin’ brains out on this floor,” Rico demanded.
“No.”
“No, what?”
“No, I’m not the only one that got a family to support,” José responded. Rico smiked at him.
“You know, you talk a whole lotta game for someone that acts like a bitch when faced wit’ a gun. Now listen. I want my money – in full – by the end of this week. If I don’t got it by then….well, ya tú sabes. ¿Claro?”
“Sí.”
“Muy bien.” Rico patted José lightly on the cheek twice. He put the pistol back on its safety lock and stood up and walked away, leaving José alone in the alley.
“Thank you, Rico,” he called out. “I swear I’ma pay you back.”
Rico entered the apartment, and heat along the smell of frying fish greeted him at the door. From the door he could hear his son crying in the kitchen. He walked into the kitchen where his girlfriend, Raquel, held the boy in her arms, bouncing him up and down trying to get him to calm down.
“Hola, mami. ¿Qué tal?” He gave her a hug from behind and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“Take your son,” she replied. “He’s been like this all day.” Rico took the baby into his arms and went into the living room, taking a seat on the couch.
“Why you botherin’ your mother, huh? What you cryin’ for anyway? I thought I told you strong men don’t cry.” The baby, who had stopped crying, stared back at him and slowly began to smile until he finally let out a giggle. “That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.” He gave the boy a kiss on the forehead and held him tight.
Rico cherished his family more than his own life. As a Hispanic man with a two-time criminal record and difficulty getting employed, Rico did whatever he had to do to support his family. He would do anything to earn enough money to put food on the table, keep his apartment, and buy things for his son. He would do whatever it took to get money, but he wouldn’t kill. His brother, Raul, had been killed over money and he vowed to take another man’s life over a few dollars. That had been the only reason he had walked away from José. For now.
After eating and putting the baby to sleep, Rico and Raquel rested on the couch watching Raquel’s favorite telenovela. His head lay upon her chest. He closed his eyes and listened to her heartbeat as her chest rose with every breath she took.
In moments like this, he always wondered what he would do without her. His whole world revolved around her and his son and he felt his life would be meaningless without them. Raquel had been by his side since they two were seventeen. At nineteen had had gotten her pregnant and despite her parents’ disapproval, they had moved in together. They were struggling to live on their own, but there was no turning back. At least they had their son and each other.
“You sleep, babe?”
“No,” he replied, eyes still closed. “¿Qué pasa?”
“Junior needs diapers.”
He reluctantly stood up and put on a hoodie and his shoes. He kissed Raquel and told her he’d be right back. He also warned her to lock the door after he left and not open the door for anyone; it got dangerous at night where they lived.
Rico walked down the sidewalk to the nearest drug store. It began to rain and the streets were empty. The street lights around him flickered and he could hear sirens in the distance.
Suddenly, he heard the sound of screeching tires. He turned around and saw José sticking his head out the car window. He smiled devilishly at Rico and pulled his arm out the window. In his hand was a pistol. Rico froze. He wanted to run, but his body wouldn’t let him. José shouted something, but Rico, in fear, couldn’t hear anything. What he did hear was the loud sound of the gun going off.
He felt the bullet pierce his chest. Then another in the abdomen. As the car sped away, Rico stumbled and fell to the ground. He laid there still as the rain fell on his face. He placed his hand over the wound on his stomach and felt warm blood oozing out from his body. His mind began to race.
He knew he was going to die, and he was very scared. He thought about José and how he should’ve killed him when he had the chance; he should’ve pulled the trigger. But he couldn’t. And if he had the chance to do it all over again, he probably wouldn’t have done it still. He didn’t want José to die, but clearly the feeling wasn’t mutual. He thought about his brother, Raul, who had been killed over the same thing: money. He loved his brother dearly, but he always wanted to be different from him. Instead, he ended up just like him.
He thought about his son and Raquel and his eyes welled up with tears that spilled down the side of his face. He thought about being back at the apartment with his son in his arms and his head resting against Raquel’s chest as they sat together watching television. He thought about how he would never be able to raise his son to be a better man than he was. He thought about how he would never be able to kiss Raquel’s soft lips again. He thought about how he should’ve told his family that he loved them before leaving the apartment.
Finlly, he wondered if God would condemn him for all his sins. He hoped that God would understand that all the bad things he had done were out of good intentions. He hoped that God would forgive him and accept him into His gates. At that moment, Rico forgave José. There was no point in holding a grudge if he was going to die. He pictured Raquel and his son one more time.
Then everything faded to black.
