“I told you it was ugly,” Tommy said. “Should we just keep going?”
“No.” Ashleigh took off her helmet. “We have nowhere else to go right now. We have to use Esmeralda’s identity.”
“What do you mean, use her identity?” Tommy asked as Ashleigh got off the bike.
“Well, of the three of us, you’re an escaped felon and I’m dead.” Ashleigh kicked the locked saddlebag where her bones were stored in her high school backpack. “So, if we’re going to put together any kind of life, we start with Esmeralda’s life and go from there.” Ashleigh looked at the stripped corpse of an automobile that occupied the parking spot next to them. “Though it doesn’t seem like she has much to build on. What does she do for a job, again?”
“She’s a mortuary cosmetician,” Tommy said. “Actually, she’s an intern, but she’s working toward her degree—”
“Oh, gross. I am not doing that.” Ashleigh crossed her arms.
“You don’t have to,” Tommy said. “Just let Esmeralda out to do it.”
“Right. Duh,” Ashleigh said. “But I think it’s time for a career change.”
“To what?” Tommy asked. He was leading them down the broken, spray-painted sidewalk towards Esmeralda’s mother’s door.
“I have a few ideas,” Ashleigh said. “But I have to look around. There’s a big mid-term coming up in the fall, you know. The President’s going to lose control of Congress.”
“Who cares?” Tommy stopped in front of an apartment door. “You’re not like some political junkie, are you? Politics are boring.”
“Power isn’t boring,” Ashleigh said. “Don’t you ever think about using your gift for something bigger than, you know, just robbing stupid liquor stores? Something on a much bigger scale?”
“Like robbing a bank?” Tommy asked.
Ashleigh rolled her eyes.
“So, should we knock?” he asked. “See if she’s home?”
“No, we shouldn’t knock,” Ashleigh said. “I’m playing Esmeralda, and this is her home, so...” Ashleigh fished Esmeralda’s keychain out of Esmeralda’s purse. “Hopefully, she’s got some decent clothes for me.”
They walked inside. The apartment was tiny, with a living/kitchen area divided by a bar. Spanish-language magazines were neatly arranged on the coffee table. Ashleigh looked at the framed posters on the wall: Jesus, Mary, and one saint after another stared back at her.
“Okay, we get it, you're Catholic,” Ashleigh whispered.
“What did you say?” Tommy asked.
“Esmeralda!” One of the doors leading off the living room opened, and a large Mexican woman in a bright dress burst out. She looked at Ashleigh, burst into tears, and hugged her tight. Ashleigh was guessing this was Esmeralda's mother.
The woman spoke a rapid stream of Spanish, catching Ashleigh off-guard. Ashleigh had taken three years of Spanish, under the tutelage of Señora McDonald at Fallen Oak High School, but nobody had never spoken so rapidly in her class.
Then the woman slapped her and began barking words in a booming, angry voice. Ashleigh picked out individual words, like afraid and worried, and then the lady started pointing at Tommy: “Quién es? Quién es?” Who is he?
“Mama,” Ashleigh said, in halting Spanish. “This is Tommy. He is my boyfriend now.”
“No!” the woman snapped. She spoke very rapidly again, repeated the word Pedro several times.
“Who is Pedro?” Ashleigh whispered to Tommy.
“Esmeralda's old boyfriend,” Tommy whispered back.
“Mama,” Ashleigh said. “He and I are not together anymore. Tommy is my boyfriend now.”
The woman got up into Ashleigh's face, screaming and jabbing her finger into Ashleigh's chest.
“Okay, this sucks,” Ashleigh said. “Tommy, scare her.”
“Are you sure?” Tommy asked.
“Never ask me if I'm sure!” Ashleigh snapped.
Tommy sighed and took one of the woman's thick arms. She gasped and stared at Tommy with widening eyes.
“El Diablo,” she whispered.
“What did she say?” Tommy asked.
“She called you the devil,” Ashleigh told him.
“Yeah,” he said. “I get a lot of that.”
“Sit down and be quiet!” Ashleigh snapped at Esmeralda's mother. The woman sank to the couch, shaking in fear while Tommy held onto her wrist.
“Tommy will be staying with me for a while,” Ashleigh said, in careful Spanish.
“Here? In my home?” Esmeralda's mother asked in Spanish. She was staring in terror at Tommy's face. “No, no, no...”