Gringo
by
Cass J. McMain
www.hhousebooks.com
Copyright © 2017 by Cass J. McMain
Cass J. McMain asserts her moral right to be identified as the author of this book. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-910688-31-1
Kindle: 978-1-910688-32-8
Cover design by Julia B. Lloyd
Typeset by B. Lloyd
Published in the USA and UK
Holland House Books
Holland House
47 Greenham Road
Newbury, Berkshire RG14 7HY
United Kingdom
www.hhousebooks.com
For my husband Paul, who is kind to old ladies.
For SC Thompson, who told me the dog was barking for a reason.
And for the dog. In another world, I shot you dead.
Contents
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 1
Daniel opened his eyes. He’d been dreaming about wolves. Disoriented, he rolled over and looked at the clock: just after midnight. He squeezed his eyes shut and hoped it wasn’t happening again. But it was.
Woof…woof…woof…
If it wasn’t for the schedule change, he might never have even noticed the damn thing. He threw the covers off, went to the window and stared out into the blackness. This was the third night in a row he’d been awakened at midnight by the dog across the street. Daniel pressed his face to the glass, trying to see it. Why he thought that would help, he wasn’t sure. Too dark anyway. No, wait. There. Movement across the street, a shadow under the neighbor’s tree, black and barking. But at nothing. Nothing now, nothing last night or the night before. Nothing Daniel was able to see anyway. He could just hear the dog, having his way with sound for fun, like a woman whistling while she dusts a shelf. Woof, woof-woof.
“Bastard,” he muttered against the window, his breath fogging the glass. He stepped back again and dropped the curtain. He was having enough trouble adjusting to the new schedule without this. Back in bed, he covered his head with a pillow and tried to tune the dog out. The pillow helped, but he couldn’t breathe. He adjusted it, and lay still, trying to regain sleep. He wished he hadn’t agreed to this shift change, temporary though it was. When he worked nights, he’d never had any trouble sleeping. It was always quiet in the day. He’d never even seen these neighbors. Had he even known they had a dog?
Daniel thought back on it. He couldn’t remember for sure. Might be they just got it. But no, he thought he’d seen it before. Under the tree. Sleeping.
Woof…woof, woof. He threw his left arm up over the pillow and pressed it down hard against his ear. The dog barked every night for hours. How could the neighbor not hear it? Eventually, he fell into fretful sleep. This time, when he dreamed, he didn’t dream of hunting wolves.
He dreamed they were hunting him.
Chapter 2
Margie came in behind him with a bucket of lemons. “Morning, Bright-eyes. You look like hell.”
Daniel shrugged and poured another cup of coffee – his third. “Yeah, love you too, dear.”
“Bad night?”
“I’m fine. Tired.”
She set a lemon on the cutting board. “We still running that lunch special?”
He sipped his coffee and shook his head again, examining a rack of glasses. “No. Maybe. Where’s Hector? These glasses aren’t clean.” He pulled two glasses out and held them to the light. “Damn kid.”
“I saw him go in the kitchen a minute ago.” Margie leaned in. “They don’t look that bad.”
The glasses clinked as Daniel went through them.
Margie sliced lemons quietly for a moment, glancing at Daniel now and then, watching his dark eyes. “Cold out there today.”
He moved on to coffee cups. “Yeah.”
The waitress scooped lemon wedges into a bucket and started on lime slices. “You getting used to the day shift?”
Daniel shook his head.
Hector came in with more racks and Daniel pointed at the row of glasses he’d gathered on the counter.
“These aren’t clean.” He picked one up and held it in front of Hector’s nose.
Hector pushed his arm away. “Water spots, is all. They’re clean enough.”
“Not just water. Look: this is lettuce. Lettuce. You think we can serve someone a nice cold beer with wilted lettuce floating in it? Take these back and redo them. Clean your filters out.”
“Chillax, man.” Daniel glared at him, and Hector added, “I’ll do it. I’ll do it. Just calm down already.”
“I don’t need to calm down. You think Bud would put up with these?”
“Wasn’t even me. I wasn’t here last night. It was that fat kid.”
Daniel glanced at the schedule, taped up above the coffeemaker. “Freddy?”
“Fat Freddy.”
Margie shook her head at the two of them. “Don’t you dare start calling him that.”
“I don’t care who it was, now it’s your problem. Just get the damn things clean.”
Hector leaned lazily against the counter and poked through the olives that Margie had just set out. He looked at her and grinned, pointing a finger at Daniel. “Danny’s being a harda
ss, Margie. Make him quit it.”
“Stop it.” She slapped his hand away from the olives, smiling. “You’re gonna get yourself in a world of hurt with that crap. Danny’ll whop you.”
“He can’t whop me. I’m too quick for him.” Hector made fake karate moves, slender arms and legs flying without grace. “Cha! Ha-cha!”
She pointed her knife at him. “Better watch it, kid. He’s not in the mood.” She glanced over at Daniel, still going through the dish rack. “You may be fast, but he’d kill you if he caught you.” She lifted her eyebrows at the boy.
“Yeah, yeah,” Hector droned, but he loaded the rejected glasses up and carted them away.
“Smartass,” Daniel mumbled after he left.
“He’s a good kid. Weren’t you a smartass when you were his age?”
“Sure. I was. Got my butt kicked for it, too.”
“Way of the world.”
“Yep. Way of the world.”
He found no further things to pick on over the dishes and moved off to his place in the bar. The doors were open, and he’d be busy enough in a little bit. Not like the night shift, but busy nonetheless. The day was full of boring people. Boring people who wanted a beer with their hamburger. Nights were different. The night shift brought in a slew of hard old men who wanted something stronger.
Daniel stood in his spot at the bar, waiting. That, too, was the way of the world.
Chapter 3
He pulled into the driveway and looked back at the house across the street. There he was: the dog, lounging in the late afternoon sunshine, a German Shepherd, black as the sleepless nights he created. Of course, the dog was sound asleep.
Daniel got out of the car and went to the mailbox. He considered knocking on the neighbor’s door and complaining about the dog, but it didn’t look like anyone was home. He collected his mail and turned to go inside. The round-faced man who lived next door was out on his porch, sweeping the leaves. He waved at Daniel.
“Danny!”
Daniel waved back. “Hey, Greg.”
Greg crossed his lawn and leaned on the small fence that separated them. “Afternoon, Danny. How’re you?”
“I’m alright. Just tired, I guess. Damn dog kept me up half the night.”
“Dog?”
“Yeah. The Shepherd.” Daniel hiked his thumb over his shoulder. “You haven’t noticed that barking?”
Greg adjusted his glasses and peered in the direction Daniel was pointing. “Sorry,” he said with a shrug, scratching his balding head. “I haven’t heard any barking. I heard you hollering last night though, about two-three in the morning.”
Daniel made a face. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry. It just got to me; I wasn’t thinking, I guess. I was trying to wake the neighbors up.”
“Well, you did that!” Greg said, and laughed. “Just got the wrong neighbor, is all. Oh, well.” He scratched his head again and looked Daniel up and down. “You just now getting home? Don’t you work nights?”
“Switched to days for a few weeks. Helping them out.” He glanced briefly across the street again at the run-down house with its shambly-looking tree. “Probably why I never noticed him before…he always starts barking at midnight.”
“Well, you should call the animal control people I guess. I never noticed it.” Greg took his glasses off and rubbed his nose. “Shepherd you say?”
“Right there,” Daniel said, and turned to point. But the dog was gone.
“I had a Shepherd when I was a kid. Molly, we called her. She was a good dog. Smart? I’ll say she was smart. Molly’d do anything for us. Me ‘n my sister.” Greg squinted into the distance and held his hands out in the air, closed into loose fists. “If I held a treat in one hand like this, she’d come up and tap it with her paw. The one with the treat. Gentle, she was.” He dropped his hands to his sides again. “I loved that dog.”
Daniel shrugged. “Sounds like a good dog. I like dogs.” And it was true. He did like dogs. Just not this one.
“You doing anything for Thanksgiving?”
“Work.”
“Bar’s open on Thanksgiving?”
“Yep. We’re even serving a turkey sandwich special. Plus we have the football, you know. Thanksgiving isn’t what it used to be.”
“Ah, yeah. What about after? You got a dinner to go to?”
“Nah. Bring home some turkey from work probably. At least I’ll get to watch the game. It’s enough. What about you?”
“Going to my sister’s. That football game sounds good, though.” Greg laughed and took hold of his broom again. “Well, guess I’ll finish this sweeping up. Not that it’s gonna last; the leaves will be right back again tomorrow. They say the weather’s going to turn next week.”
Daniel watched him go, shuffling across the small lawn, crunching the golden leaves. Greg spent more time outside than in, mowing every three days in spring and summer, raking every three days in the fall. It didn’t snow much here, but even the tiniest snowfall had Greg out with his broom, sweeping the porch and clearing the little walkway.
Daniel went inside, sorting through the mail. Bills and junk and ads for Christmas. Hard to get in the mood for Christmas the second week of November, especially with the weather being so warm. It had been sixty most days this week. A storm, Greg had said. That could be nice. Daniel looked out the window at the sun moving toward the horizon, sunset brewing. The dog was back in his spot under the tree. Daniel flipped a finger at him and went to the kitchen for a snack.
He turned on the television and watched nonsense for an hour, drifting in and out of sleep. Every time he caught himself dozing, he shook himself awake. Not good to fall asleep on the couch. He’d never get used to this schedule, that way. He forced himself to stay awake until nine, and then went to bed and was asleep almost instantly.
At midnight, the barking began. Daniel was out of the bed like a shot, bleary-eyed and panicky. He opened his bedroom window and yelled. But of course, that didn’t shut the dog up, only made it louder. Plus there was Greg to consider. Probably woke him up.
“Just as well,” Daniel grumbled, slamming his window shut. Maybe if Greg was awake he’d hear the barking too. Fuck it. At least he wouldn’t be alone. All the neighbors should hear this. All of them should be awake. Why was everyone sleeping through this except him? Acoustics?
He drew on his robe and went out front, glaring at the dog. The white teeth flashed in the moonlight with every bark. Woof. Woof, woof. Woof. He crossed the street and approached the neighbor’s door, while the barking grew more and more frantic.
The dog bounced around behind the tattered old fence as Daniel put his finger on the doorbell and pressed it, then pounded with his fists. “Hey! Hey, you! Wake up. Hello?” He pounded several times, then kicked hard with his slippered foot. There was no reply. He leaned his ear on the door, listening for activity. Nothing.
“Wake the fuck up, people. Your dog’s driving me crazy! Hello? Hello?” No lights came on, and there was no sound from inside. No response at all, other than the increased barking.
Hell. He turned and shuffled back to his own house, then looked out of the window. “Someone should fucking kill that dog,” he muttered, but of course he wasn’t serious.
He got back in bed but could not sleep.
Chapter 4
When he got home from work, there was a small red tag on the neighbor’s door. He stood at his mailbox looking across, trying to determine what it was. He’d called animal services the minute they opened, and they’d said they would come out. Was this the result? Was the damned dog still there? He craned his neck, looking.
“They were here.” Greg spoke from behind him, startling him. He dropped his mail.
“Oh. Sorry!” Greg laughed. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I said the animal control people were parked by your house this morning. I came out to talk to them but they left before I could catch them.”
“Did they take the dog?”
�
��Can’t say. Never saw them.” He took off his glasses and rubbed his nose. “They were driving off right when I came out. I was in the back, so I didn’t see what they did. Maybe they caught it. Too bad people don’t take care of their dogs. Let ‘em run all over the place around here.”
Daniel knelt to pick up the mail, crouching at Greg’s feet like a supplicant. It had irritated him at first, the way Greg was always coming up behind him or calling to him. Daniel had grown used to the watchfulness but still jumped when Greg came up behind him.
He’d rented the house because he hated having neighbors too close; he never felt truly alone in an apartment. He wanted more space, distance between him and the next person. In his last place, every time he came up the stairs, the curtain in the apartment next to his would twitch. He never saw a face, just the fingers flicking the curtain as he passed. Daniel grew self-conscious about it, and had eventually started taking pains to walk up the steps as quietly as he could to avoid the twitching of the curtain, with some success. But sometimes the curtain moved no matter how quiet he was, and even when it didn’t he’d felt they were still listening for him.
No, it was better to have more distance. So, a house. It was small, but it was more than enough. It was only a little more money than an apartment, and worth it for the so-called quiet and privacy. He smiled a little at that under the circumstances, but at least Greg wasn’t hiding behind a curtain. And the barking dog, well, hopefully the city had taken care of that this morning.
Daniel shuffled the mail absently through his fingers. He wondered if he’d woken Greg up the night before, and decided not to ask. They chatted for a while about the weather and about the dangerous pothole in front of his house, and about the lady who lived in the house down the road, who’d had a hernia operation and couldn’t drive her car for a month. Greg had raked her leaves for her.
“She’s only forty-five,” Greg said. “But I guess she did something. Hell of a scar she’s got – she showed me.” Greg lifted his own shirt to expose his skin and traced a line on his own pudgy belly, in demonstration. “She can’t eat fruit now, either.” In response to Daniel’s puzzled look, he added, “Gas.”
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