“You’ll have to forgive Sophia. I don’t think she approves of your party,” I say.
“Maybe you both ought to join in. I’m sure she’d enjoy it then.”
“I think there’s more chance of your balls miraculously becoming separated from your body to be honest.” I smile, tilting my head back, looking up at him. “I’d hate to invite you to sit down in your own home, Julio, but it’d make this whole thing a little easier if we were all seated around the same table. I imagine standing up for extended periods of time isn’t all that fun for you, anyway.”
Julio mumbles something unintelligible, his jowls swinging from side to side. “You’re a son of a bitch, Rebel. What the fuck you think you’re doing, showing up here like this? You fucking crazy?”
Over his shoulder, a woman throws her leg over a guy’s head, grinding her pussy against his face, which makes it hard to take Julio seriously as his face grows redder and redder.
“I didn’t think calling ahead would be smart,” I answer. “I’d have shown up and no one would have been here.”
“True. I’d have made sure we were all down in Tijuana, drinking cerveza and fucking big-titted Latina beauties.”
I spread my hands in front of me—see what I mean? “We need to talk about Hector Ramirez,” I say.
Julio sits himself down heavily in the last remaining chair at our table; it creaks, groaning under the considerable weight of the man. “I don’t see what we have to talk about, my friend. Hector Ramirez is your problem, not mine.”
“Is that so?”
He shrugs, spreading his hands in front of him. “I ‘m aware that he has been camping out on your front lawn, stinking up the neighborhood, ruining your little slice of Americana. While his gaze is turned toward you, it’s not focused on Mexico or the border. Or the goods that I choose to ship back and forth for that matter. And with Maria Rosa still missing, it’s very convenient for me to have Ramirez playing Cowboys and Indians with you. Mexico is mine for the taking.”
Fuck. I haven’t even considered what might be happening with Ramirez’s business while he’s stateside, occupied with the Widow Makers. Of course he’s not paying attention to what’s going on back in Juarez. I’m sure he’s left men behind to manage his operation, there’s no doubt about that, but the kind of men you leave behind are the kind of men who are easily bribed. They’re probably pocketing a couple of hundred dollars every time Perez wants to import or export a shipment, and then looking the other way.
I catch a frown on Sophia’s face. She looks like she’s kicking herself for not considering this outcome, too, though I have no idea why. She doesn’t know how the politics of this world works. Not really.
Julio waves over one of his armed guards and tells him to bring him three beers. Once the guard is gone, Julio says, “Tell me what you want to discuss. We’ll see how our conversation proceeds from there. But trust me when I say this, my friend. The return on whatever you want from me had better be fucking impressive.”
“I want Ramirez dead. That’s what I want to discuss with you. And the return on that is obvious. Right now, Mexico isn’t yours for the taking. Mexico is on loan. As soon as Ramirez is done in the states, what do you think’s going to happen? He’s going to head straight back to Juarez and he’s going to butcher the guys who’ve been turning a blind eye to you and yours. He’s going to seek retribution because you encroached on his territory, and he’s going to murder half of your men. I wouldn’t be surprised if he takes control of your California business just to prove a point. And then what? You’ve had your ass spanked and you’re broke. Doesn’t sound too great to me. If you help us get rid of the fucker once and for all, Mexico really will be yours.”