You’d figure he’d have finally started to expect my reply after the seven hundred-ish times of asking the same question and getting the same answer, but it still irritated him after all this time.Īnd while it wasn’t completely out of the norm for him-my boss, one of my two bosses, if you wanted to be technical-to say “Goddamn it, Luna,” it wasn’t common either. It definitely didn’t help that, when I had brought him his cup of coffee that morning, he’d asked me, “Did you decide?”Īnd like every time he had asked the same question, I had given him the same reply I always had and would. Not that anyone was ever in a good mood on a Friday morning, but… the man glaring at me was always in a bad mood when he wore white. When I had seen him that morning bent over the opened hood of an early 1950s GMC truck, a hint of a white compression shirt showing beneath his coveralls, I’d known he was in a bad mood to begin with.

Who was I kidding? I would have bet all of my money that was exactly why.

If I had to guess why I was the lucky winner of that mouth being turned down, it might have been because I’d had my eyes closed for… I glanced at my old but faithful G-Shock watch. The man who had his hands on his hips as he frowned. It was the “Goddamn it, Luna,” that had me prying an eyelid open.īut it was the rumbled, deep voice saying it that had me aiming my eyeball in the direction of the man standing about ten feet away.

Luna and the lie mariana zapata