Page 52 of The Mob: Shio Cuppacio
He grabbed the tongs and piled my plate, adding more than I originally had, which I appreciated. I was only being modest when I fixed my plate, but I was starving. When he was done with the plate, he opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and then set the plate down in front of me.
Is he wearing Baccarat? Who the hell is this kid?
“This ain’t barbecue. We don’t eat barbecue-flavored hot wings ’round here. Here. I’m sure you want some ranch.”
He slid a small sauce cup in front of me, which I frowned at. I didn’t eat ranch on my chicken wings, but I wasn’t going to tell him that, so I just let it sit while picking up a fry. He took a seat next to me and watched as I bit into a hot wing.
“You Black, but you not a nigga…”
I nearly choked on the wing and had to take a swig of water. When I was able to inhale appropriately, and the chicken made its way down my esophagus instead of down my windpipe, I wiped my fingers with the paper towel he’d given me.
“You’re a child, but you speak like an adult.”
Rubbing his hand down his hairless face, proving he was indeed a child, he looked off. “Yeah, well… life will make you grow up faster than you need to.”
I could wholeheartedly relate to his statement that held weight. Growing up, my father allowed me to be a child until he didn’t. The switch-up was quick, and I had to grow up and adapt to our way of life fast. Mexico was as brutal as it was beautiful. There was no time for dolls and dance recitals once it was evident that I was no longer a young girl, but a budding young lady.
“I get it…”
His eyes widened before softening as he looked back at me and said, “I’ve seen a lot, heard a lot, and been througha lot. I’m trying to work on my cursing, though. It’s hard, but my mama been appreciating me trying.”
“Your mother…” I trailed off, not sure what I wanted to say. I was trying to imagine what I thought the woman he’d come from looked like. He was a handsome little boy despite his potty mouth, so I knew he had to be the product of at least one good-looking parent, if not two. With his facial structure that was nearly perfect, I put my pesos on his mother. She was pretty—had to be.
“Yeah. She’s pregnant. I been trying not to stress her out. She’s happy these days. Got everything she ever wanted.”
“And you?” I found myself asking.
Using his teeth to scrape his bottom lip, he looked off into the distance. “After I handle this business I got when I turn eighteen, I’ll have everything I ever wanted then.”
“And how long is that?”
He held up eight fingers. “This long. I can’t fucking wait either.”
This little boy was ten years old and rushing the next eight, while I was wishing I could rewind my life back eight years. I had Maura to deal with back then, but I hadn’t been kidnapped by my own father to prepare me to be auctioned off to save his ass. Back then, my worries were finding excuses to skip etiquette classes and dodging our chef, who’d been tasked with teaching me the basic cooking skills. All of that seemed so far away.
“My father is Mexican, and my mother was Black,” I answered his question from earlier.
“So you half-nigga and half-wetback?” he asked with a straight face.
My hand covered my heart in fake disappointment, and before I could respond to his insult, he burst out laughing.
“I’m just messing with you. You do look Black, though. The only way I know you got some Mexican in you is from your accent. It’s thick as fuck. You sound like you straight out a telenovela.”
“What do you know about telenovelas?” I grinned. I hadn’t watched them since I was a little girl. It was comical hearing him refer to them.
“I watched a few of ’em.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. I didn’t know much about this country, but I didn’t think they watched telenovelas.
“What’s your name?”
“Neltz.”
Neltz.
To me, it was an odd name for an interesting little boy. It fit him, though.
Smiling at him, I asked, “You’re not going to ask me my name?”
He shook his head and stood. “In this family, you learn not to ask too many questions. Besides, I already got a name for you.”
