Moondogs - Alexander Yates [91]
“She’s lying to you.”
The father’s smile grew sadder—he looked absolutely grief-stricken. “This is very unfortunate. I will have to call the police if you don’t take this off my property and leave right away.”
“That’s great, in fact, I’ve already brought them.” She turned back to Reynato, whom she only now noticed was giving the old man and his daughter a slim middle-finger. “If you’d like I can call him over.”
“Bitch, you are in-fucking-sane,” the girl shouted over her father’s shoulder. “Just because the ugly little horndog you call your son is a stoner, it’s not my fault.” Monique turned to look at her. “Yeah, he told me,” she said. “And now that I see you, it’s no surprise either. That shit is obvious.”
The father began closing the gate but Monique put her fingers on the frame to stop him. “This,” he said, pointing to her fingers, “is trespassing.” He slid the metal gate so that it rested lightly on her knuckles without pushing on them. “I’m calling the police,” he said. “I’m calling them now.”
Monique let go of the frame and the gate slammed shut. On the other side she heard the father speaking Tagalog into his telephone—the skinny shit really was calling the police. She stood there dumbly as he described her to the dispatcher. Then he threw the baggies of pot over the wall and out to the sidewalk. One of them struck her in the shoulder. No. No. Shawn was her son. She wouldn’t let that spoiled bitch do this to her son.
Monique collected the baggies from the sidewalk and threw them back over the wall.
“This is very silly,” the father shouted, exasperated now. He threw the baggies over again, as well as the basketball and a bunch of shirts. They came over fast—his daughter must have helped. “The police are coming. The police have been called.”
She didn’t notice Reynato until he stood right beside her, bracing a galvanized garbage can on his shoulder. “I’m old,” he grunted. “Help.” Monique took hold of half the can and together they hurled it over the wall, a tongue of garbage licking out as it flew. The father shrieked and Monique imagined the can crashing wetly on his landscaping. Reynato hurled the gifts back over, getting a shirt and one of the baggies as far as the terra-cotta roof. He retreated to his Honda and lightly rammed the front gate, shattering a headlight and denting the wrought-iron. The father was out and out screaming now. Monique dove into the car. After wrestling with the gearshift, Reynato peeled out. Monique laughed so hard she cried. Or vice versa.
“Thank you,” she managed. “That was great.”
“Those rich shits got off easy,” Reynato said. “You should’ve earthquaked them.”
“Ha.” She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Imagine if I really could. That awful girl deserves it.”
“Yes, she does. And yes, you can.” He winked and it made half of his face look older. “You should have.” He pulled down Calamansi and out onto Palm Avenue. A patrol car stopped them but after just a few words the grinning officers left them alone. No one bothered them as they exited the gated village.
“But that would make me a pretty bad bruha, wouldn’t it?” Monique said.
“It would make you the kind of bruha you already are. It would make you like all other bruhas. Beautiful. Powerful. Scary. And bad.”
Chapter 16
DIVE
The first thing Benicio did after Solita left was call Bobby and ask if it wasn’t too late to get in on that dive trip. He was eager to get away, not just from the hotel, but from the whole city. And besides, Bobby knew Solita, and he knew Howard, and he could maybe shed some light on how long their fucked-up arrangement had been going on. Since the funeral? Since before the funeral? Since Howard’s first trip to the country, nearly thirteen years ago now?
Bobby picked up after just one ring. “Almost too late,” he said, “but not quite.” Benicio was pleased to hear how pleased he sounded. Bobby was already on the road and had to swing through Alabang