It was almost one in the morning when Jaime arrived at The Drunken Poodle, a low end pub on the south side of Albuquerque. If you couldn’t tell from his greasy hair, or patchy stubble, you would notice he hadn’t bathed in days from the stinging of the nose as he got closer. He wore the black leathers his father had given him when he got his first bike at sixteen. The jacket was ragged and torn up from his last run in with Valentino, but the stitched calavera patch of the Mercenarios was still pristine.

        Jaime scanned the bar for signs of him. The thick beard, the buzzed mohawk, the aviators he never took off. Nothing. Jaime sat at the stool closest to the front door. He glanced at the bathrooms, over his shoulder, through the window, tapping his foot. The woman sitting next to him made a sour face and stood up to walk away. He would have moved too, and was glad she did. She didn’t yet know the bullet she had dodged.

        The overhead bell signaled a new customer walking into the bar. A man entered. Clean shaven, chin length hair tied back, wearing dress pants and a cheap button-up he had probably gotten from Walmart. Jaime never would have recognized Valentino like this, were it not for those damn aviators. He almost didn’t notice Jaime sitting there, writing him off as some homeless drunk, not worth the time or effort to spare a smile, or even a glance. It wasn’t until Valentino walked past his old friend that he saw the Mercanarios emblem on Jaime’s back. He staggered, and looked at the door, turning to walk away, until Jaime said “Sit down.”

        Valentino was silent for one eternal moment, standing frozen in a staring contest with the calavera. He thought about his fiance, his unborn daughter, his long passed mother, and his soon to pass father. Dread wrapped silk webs around his veins and squeezed down. His arms tingled as his hair stood on end. Jaime repeated himself.

“I said sit. Saved you a seat, wouldn’t want someone to steal it.”

“How… thoughtful of you” Valentino said, taking his seat, and. “What brings you out to my little corner of town?”

“Was hoping to run into an old friend is all.”

“Right, and I suppose you found him.”

“Yeah, I found him. How’s it going Val? Getting along nicely since you ditched the crew?”

“Jaime, listen, I never —”

“Can I get you gentlemen something to drink?” The bartender chimed in.

“Modelo” they said in unison. They looked at each other, Val smiled, the bartender chuckled, and Jaime let out a belly laugh. He laughed like he was an alien hearing a joke for the first time. Like he thought he had to, but he didn’t really get what was funny. Heads turned as the laugh went on, until a portly red-faced white man in a flannel stood up and shouted “Would you shut the fuck up”, spilling from his pint glass filled with guinness.

        Jaime slammed a hand on the counter and turned in his direction. Val, having been in more than a few bar fights with Jaime, was quick to grab his wrist.

“Not worth it. He aint worth it bro. Sit back down.”

He did. They sat in silence, sipped their beer, and watched the soccer game on tv. It was only a few months ago they spent every other night like this. They were on drink number three when Jaime finally broke the silence.

“I miss this.”

“What, drinking and watching soccer? What's stopping you?”

“Nah, not that. You and me. People used to respect us. Not just either of us, they respected us as a unit. Johnny used to tell people that if they fucked with him, they would have to answer to the Skull Brothers. My own little brother called you and me brothers. Can you believe that?”

“They feared us. They didn’t respect us. There's a big difference.”

“Symantics. It doesn’t matter. They don't fear us anymore either. Telling me to shut up. Does he — do you know who the fuck I am?” Jaime said shouting at the man that had left the bar twenty minutes ago.

“We were young and dumb Jaime. I never wanted that to be my life. Not forever.”

“Oh fuck that. We were kings. We had a brotherhood. But you left us. You abandoned us. You turned your back on your family.”

“Lets not do this Jaime. Can’t we just be normal for ten minutes.”

“And now look at you. What the hell are you doing with yourself, huh? Some cozy office, with an espresso machine, living some soulless life behind a desk?

“Look at me? Look at you man. When was the last time you took a shower? When was the last time you shaved? When was the last time you did laundry? Do you even have a place to sleep now?”

        Jaime stayed quiet. He glared at Valentino, the same look he gave when Val told him he was leaving the Merecenarios. The same look he gave him right before the fight that landed Jaime in the hospital. Val tried to take a sip from his empty bottle. He waved over the bartender and said “Another one for me and my buddy Darla.”

“Last one. It's late and you guys are starting to get rowdy. I don't want any problems, especially this close to closing.” She said, pulling bottles from the fridge. Jaime waved his hand in a shooing motion, grabbing his beer, and slamming it back.

“Jaime?”

“Val.”

“Do you have a place to sleep?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.”

“When are you gonna stop lying to me? I need you to tell the truth, Valentino."

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Why did you leave The Mercanarios?”

The tingling came back. The ghost of the reaper hung over Valentino Jaquez once more, as he realized that his first instinct about Jaime’s presence here was right.

“I told you man. I just needed out. I have a kid on the way now. Did you know that? I make good money too. It's boring work but it pays well. Our house has an extra room if you need a place to stay. Come over tonight, take a shower. I think I've gained some weight but we should still be the same size, you can borrow some clothes. Alyssa can make us some—”

“Val?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

Val stood, leaving his still full bottle on the bar counter. He exaggerated a look at his watch, a bootleg rolex, and said “I should be going. Alyssa hates when I'm out this late. Nice seeing you.”

 “Sit.”

“Jaime, I—”

“Sit. I won't tell you again.”

Val took his seat once again, and reached for his bottle, hands trembling. The chill from the frosted glass ran through his spine. He closed his eyes, and pulled it to his lips.

“Why did you leave?” Jaime said.

Val pushed a long breath from his mouth and stared at the wall on the other side of the counter. He forced air back in. “I think you know.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Don’t make me.”

“Say it.”

Val took another swig, and fought it down past the knot in his stomach.

“I made a bad deal.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I took a job from Dex. Well, I guess the job came through him, from the Colombians. I was supposed to run a load from the border up to Dallas. No smuggling, just moving the load after it got through.”

“What was the package you were supposed to drive?”

“I don’t know. Knowing them, probably coke or heroin or something, I didn’t ask. If you saw how much they were paying you wouldn’t have either, so I did the job, and took the money, used it to start a new life. I know we’re not supposed to take outside jobs, but it was too good to pass up. You understand, right?”

“Oh sure I do. The question is, where does Johnny come into this?” Jaime said, holding his empty bottle by the neck, upside down.

“How did you find out?”

“No more lies Val. I know the whole story. Like I said, I just need to hear you say it.”

        Valentino looked around at the bar, praying for a way out that didn’t go right past Jaime. The whole place was quiet. Not a single other person in the room, not even the bartender. Three men walked in, all wearing Mercenarios jackets. He was stuck.

“It wasn’t supposed to go down like that Jaime, you gotta believe me.” He croaked.

“The whole story.”

“Your little brother found out about the job, wanted a cut. I let him in. We got the package up to Dallas. We looked at what it was, and goddamn there was a lot of it, pure shit too. We decided to cut out the middle man, so we sold it ourselves. I decided to skip town. I had more cash than I could spend, figured the colombians would come looking, so I left Texas, came out here to find some quiet. Didn’t think you would come looking before they did.”

“We would have protected you, if you had told us. Could have protected Johnny too.”

“What do you mean you could have?”

“You don’t know?” Jaime said. Tears were welling in his eyes, but his voice was calm. He had rehearsed this moment every day for two months.

“Two to the chest, one in the head. Executed my little brother, and sent a letter with a picture to me in the mail. Sent it to my house. It's hard to stay at home after something like that, so no, I don’t exactly have a fixed address right now.”

“Jaime, I'm so sorry. It was never supposed to happen like that.”

        Jaime stood up, and the other three men walked over to the bar. They hung over Valentino. He got off his stool, and knelt on the ground, fear boiling through his eyes in tears.

“It wasn’t my fault man. I didn’t want him involved.”

“Then you should have told him no. He feared me, he respected you. You’re right, there is a big difference. He wanted to be like you. You let him get killed.”

“Jaime please, don’t do this.”

“He used to call us brothers.”

“Jaime.”

“You did this to yourself.”

        The three Mercenarios grabbed Valentino, one on either arm, one putting him in a chokehold. They dragged him out through the backdoor in the kitchen, throwing him into the alley, where a dozen more members of the gang Val once called family stood, bikes idling. Jaime walked out with his empty bottle in his right hand, and Valentino's half full Modelo. in his left. He offered him the now warm beer to his old friend, and with a violently shaking hand, Val accepted it. Jaime clicked the bottles together, before smashing his on the wall of the pub.

“Cheers. To family.”