are better than Walmart.”
“You said drug cartel. What do drugs have to do with it?” he asked.
Delores wove an intricate tale of he said/she said and so-and-so is related to so-and-so, who was arrested for some odd thing. When she talked gossip like this, his attention faded. He nodded and forked another dumpling into his mouth, his teeth sinking into the sweet dough, his tongue distinguishing the subtle differences among the cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves in the rich sauce. He washed his bite down and said, “In the middle of all this mess, Josie’s mother showed up today from Indiana.”
Delores sat across from Otto with her own plate and glass of milk. “What did she look like?”
Otto’s eyebrows knitted together. “I don’t know. Like a floozy. Josie had a date with Dillon Reese tonight, and her mother showed up out of the blue, demanding attention.”
“Maybe you should invite Josie and her mother over for dinner this week. Help her out a little.”
Otto ignored the idea. As much as he liked Josie, he’d heard enough about Beverly Gray from her to know that he did not want to spend an evening entertaining the woman. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and asked, “No meat tonight?”
“Just dumplings. If we don’t start watching our weight, you’ll end up with both knees on the operating table.”
* * *
At midnight, Josie walked Dillon to his car. The air was soft on her skin, and a billion stars and a fat white moon lit up the night. Dillon leaned against his car door instead of getting inside and put his arms out to her. He pulled her toward him, rested his hands on her hips, and offered a half grin that she couldn’t read.
“Nothing’s changed, Josie, but I can’t stay away any longer.”
She felt the familiarity of a fight coming on. “I’ve tried to explain…”
He put a finger up to her lips and shook his head. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m not passing judgment. I just miss you. I need to be around you. You make me smile, and I want to make you smile. You have this gigantic heart that’s locked up inside you that I want to open up.”
She took a step back. “Don’t speak in metaphors! What does that mean—I have a heart locked up? If I need to change, then give it to me in black and white.”
He laughed at her anger and pulled her back in again, kissed her to shut her up, then kissed her again, soft and long, his hands down her back pulling goose bumps up her arms. He finally kissed her forehead and cradled her face in his hands. She had a perfect heart, he told her, that needed sleep. Then, he drove off down the dusty road toward town.
EIGHT
After a shower in an open-air bath off the main dressing area, the Bishop sat for morning breakfast on the veranda. He watched as two light-skinned teenage girls laid out his clothes for the day in his room: white linen slacks and a light linen-blend white shirt, huarache sandals and a Cuban Exo cigar. He had stopped smoking ten years ago but found he missed the roll of the cigar between his fingers and the taste of the tobacco on his lips more than the act of smoking. So he had switched to carrying a fresh cigar with him throughout the day.
He watched the girls through the glass wall that separated his bedroom from the veranda, looking with pride as they snapped a fresh white sheet and tucked it under the mattress. They laughed and slipped quietly out, so unself-conscious, they never realized he had been watching.
He had overseen every detail of the construction of his estate, and he was proud of the outcome. The house was built five years ago to represent his family’s wealth and status, and it had achieved that goal. Reminiscent of an M. C. Escher print, the three-story white stucco home held mysterious passageways, arches, and twisting stairs. Hand-carved teak lintels and moldings had been waxed to an ancient sheen, giving the home a substantial old-world feel that he prized. Outside the home, terraced desert landscaping wrapped all sides of the house and created quiet retreats.
The Bishop reclined slightly in his chair and breathed deeply, forcing a calm exterior that he did not feel. The damp morning air was infused with what he thought of as the smells of earth: mesquite, creosote bush, and juniper. In the midst of family or