Luis ate his Blake’s Lotaburger slowly, wondering if he should have ordered French fries. He knew he had to conserve his money. A noisy group of bikers and lowriders burst into the store. They were Latino like him, but their attention was all for each other. They settled into the large circular booth next to him, and attempted to outdo each other with obscene jokes and pretend jabs with tattooed hands.

When it was clear they were going to add nothing to the tone of everyday Española, Luis let his mind wander elsewhere. He had his aunt’s house, a lot of corded wood for the forthcoming winter, his car, and about $250 in cash. Nothing else. The van he’d used to move his few belongings had cost more than he’d realized. Fortunately, Aunt Fatima had left him enough furniture to get by.

His feet hurt though from trudging through the town, stopping at every place he thought might have employment. Nobody was hiring. He couldn’t even get the casino boss to look up from his desk.

“Not hiring.”

Now he’d have to try Los Alamos or Santa Fe, and that meant gasoline money. Receiving his aunt’s house had been a blessing, but he needed a job. Next to him, the blustering suddenly died down. Luis thought the momentary silence felt more threatening than the previous swearing and clowning around.

“Say,” one of the bikers said, a short squat guy with teardrop tattoos. “Did you see the fox whose car was broke down up the road? She sure looked hot — and frustrated, too!”

Noisy hoots. “A gal like that ought to be grateful to some guys who help her out, don’t cha think?” The table erupted with more laughs, innuendos, and a sense of satisfaction.

“Hey, no rush,” said the biggest guy in the bunch, who might be the leader. “It’s f-ing hot out there and I want a milkshake. The bitch’ll wait.”

Luis didn’t want to stay around and hear the rest. The last thing he needed was trouble in his new town and some of the guys seemed local. On the other hand, he sure felt sorry for the girl. Outside, the heat steamed off the hood of his old Chevy Cavalier. He opened the door and sat down. He didn’t need to turn the car to the north, but the impulse to do so was overwhelming.

(Continued next week)