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I pass the empty cup back.

—Thanks.

He takes the cup, grinning.

—No prob, dude.

Rolf points at him.

—This is Sid. Sid, this is my friend, Henry Thompson.

—Cool, right, I know. Cool to meet you, dude.

He sticks out his hand. I manage to lift mine off the bed and shake. Rolf reaches in his pocket, takes out some money, and hands it to Sid.

—Why don’t you run over to the IHOP and grab a grilled cheese for Henry? I’ll take a chef salad.

—Cool.

He backs away, eyes locked on me, then turns suddenly, unlocks the door, and dashes out. Rolf smiles at me.

—I think he has a crush on you.

I try to push myself up in the bed and get hit with a sack of cramps and aches. Rolf helps to get me sitting and puts an extra pillow behind my back.

—So, Rolf?

—Yeah.

—Funny seeing you here.

—Yeah.

—What’s it about?

He digs in the back pocket of his shorts, pulls out a piece of paper, unfolds it, and hands it to me.

—It’s about this.

I take the paper. It’s a photocopy of my NYPD wanted poster, the Spanish language version. It has blood on it.

CANDITO HAD the wanted poster in his pocket. Rolf found it when he was looking for the Bronco keys so he could meet me and Leo back at the highway. But he had to kill Candito first.

—Dude, was that nasty. I was thinking bushwhack: get back in the tequilaria and hide behind the bar and blast him when he came back in. No go. You took off and I went in and he was just coming in through the back door with the town medico. Old guy, fat, with a big old mostacho. The real deal, right out of a Sergio Leone flick. I come through the door and the Federale goes for his gun and I raise my hands and start babbling about how I dropped the car keys and I just need to get them and I’ll be gone and, dude, just be cool. He tells the doc to get to work on the other cop, the one without a face, right?

I’m sitting on the side of the bed now, drinking more water. My head feels like it’s been cut off and stuck on a pike. I keep having little moments where I suddenly get dizzy and my vision blurs. It’s a safe bet that I have a mid-level concussion. Which would explain why I don’t remember much after I got in the Monte Carlo. A chase. A crash. A cop. The back of Rolf’s bus. This room.

—The Federale covers me while I walk over to that table I was hiding behind. I point at the floor and go all, Hey, there’s my keys, and I duck down like I’m grabbing my keys just as the doc walks around the bar and sees the dead cop.

Dead cop. A deputy was calling for help on his radio, and then I heard gunshots, and then Rolf and Sid were pulling me out of my car. Dead cop.

—So now the doc is telling the Federale that he can’t do anything for his friend and the Federale is all, Que? Que? Que? So that’s it, the jig’s up. I pop up to do one of those gangsta moves with the dead cop’s piece in one hand and my revolver in the other and, dude, there’s the doc and the Federale standing over the dead guy, I’m totally forgotten. I pull the trigger on that cheap cop gun and it goes off and jams right away. So now, dude, the live cop is drawing a bead on me and I got just three round in my piece and the one shot I got off hit the doc in the gut and he’s lying on his side on the floor scooting around in a circle like one of the Three Stooges with a hot rivet in his pants. No shit.

My head spins some more and I lie back with my knees bent over the edge of the bed, feet on the floor.

—You OK, dude?

I keep my eyes closed and wave my hand.

—You sure?

I breathe deeply a few times.

—Yeah.

—OK. So, the Federale is bringing up his piece and I have this moment where I blank. I, seriously, I panic. It’s like surfing. I’m all over a wave and then it just surges and becomes like something else, like a beast, and I realize I’m totally in over my head and I’m just gonna get wiped out if I don’t hold my shit, but it’s too late, just taking the time to think makes it too late and next thing I know I’m plowed because what’s happened is, I’ve totally panicked. Choked in the clutch.