Jamal nodded, knowingly. “Ah, that’s why you don’t want to screw. You have someone.”
“It’s the mailman.”
“This early in the morning?”
“Perceptive, aren’t you?”
“I have to be.”
Santiago shared that he had athingwith the postal carrier. They shared coffee and cuddles on the couch that would sometimes lead to something more. It was casual, something they both agreed to and enjoyed.
“And to be clear, I don’t want to screw, because you could be my son.”
“Do you have a son?”
Santiago shook his head.
“Do you know how many dirty old men I’ve been with?”
Santiago was taken aback but tried not to show it.
“Not saying you’re a dirty old man.”
“Glad to know…”
“For what it’s worth, you don’t look a day over forty.”
“Thank you, I guess.”
A knock at the bedroom window startled them both.
“Santi, I see your truck in the garage. It looks wrecked. Are you okay?”
Santiago darted to the window, peeked through the curtains, and pointed. Quickly closing the blinds, Santiago told Jamal to relax and that he would be right back. Jamal nodded.
Five minutes later, Santiago returned.
“Everything cool?”
“Yes.” Santiago added, “He warned me there were two fugitives on the loose and to be careful.”
“Two? I wonder who they caught.”
“We know who they didn’t.”
“Did you tell him about me?”
“No, but he’ll be back later for lunch.”
Santiago watched the tension leave Jamal’s body as he sunk into the bed.
“Are those scars on your arm and chest from bullet wounds?”
“Yeah…”
“So, you’ve been shot. Youwerein prison for attempted murder.Dios Mio!You’re so young!”
“I’m not that young.”
