Mexican Hey Dudes Novels & Stories

As I looked across the street trying to find another way inside the truck stop, I saw my best friend Teresa crouching behind a box. We sat there for a moment. I looked around and saw a bat, and I threw an apple at his head. He bent down to pick it up. I jumped off the box and slammed the bat down on his head. He fell unconscious, some blood spilling from his head. Teresa walked over to me. “Just another day in Zamora, Mexico.” “Yeah.” We heard a grunt. I turned around. “Awe man, did I not hit him hard enough. I thought he was done for. “

“But you, I don’t know.” “Well, my name is Minus, and I’m a Sagittarius. I enjoy long walks on the beach, going to the theater, and knowing what the fuck is going on around here.” “You are funny guys. You two should do a podcast or something. Don’t you think so, Crush?” Mexican Hulk nodded but remained expressionless. Viper continued, “I have a great sense of humor, too, but I also know when to be serious. I wonder if you gentlemen know when it’s time to get serious?”

I said staring at Antonio. Yes, I'm a bit slow, don't judge me. "Nope." he said popping the 'p' and grinning down at me. "I'm actually Daryl, fully American, atyour service." he held his hand out once again for me to shake. I took it shaking him slightly and feeling a bit silly. "Seriously Adriane, that was the worst Mexican impression I have ever heard. What kind of Mexican says ola and Antonio like that? He sounded like a fricking robot." Mavis chuckled and I joined her.

One of them got out a teasing remark, which he ignored. "Are you cold?" Edwardo asked Michael in English. "It's kind of chilly tonight." Michael nodded in response, blushing as he gratefully leaned into Edwardo’s embrace. The jacket was warm, hugely oversized, and having Edwardo's smell surrounding him was a very comforting thing. He could tell some of the bystanders were jeering at them, but whatever Edwardo said back to them got them to lay off. He continued talking to Michael in English. "We're almost at the front of the line, did you get a chance to read the menu board? I always get the carnitas, but they do burritos, quesadillas, tacos pescados..."

But every time our shoulders brushed in the crowded corridor, I felt it—electric, undeniable. The food truck lot was chaos—lines, laughter, music thumping from someone’s speaker. We got tacos (carne asada for him, al pastor for me), horchata for both, and found a bench under a tree. The sun was low, golden, turning everything soft. He took one bite and moaned dramatically. “This is better than sex.” I laughed so hard I almost choked. “Don’t let my boyfriend hear you say that.” Luca raised an eyebrow. “Boyfriend?”

********** (One month later) Outskirts of Mexico City One-Mile pulled his hoodie over his face and bowed his head against the pelting rain. Normally this part of the globe was a sweltering cesspool of humidity and humanity, but Mexico City—like a lot of the world—was recovering from a hectic Christmas and a raucous New Year’s. He’d missed both of those at home, and he hoped Brea understood. But Montilla and his band of thugs hadn’t taken a week or two off to celebrate the holidays. The average citizen, however, seemed to be partied out. Most of the tourists had emptied from the streets and seemingly gone back to their responsible, desk-jockey lives. So tonight, he walked a largely uninhabite

“Get Mr. Alvarez something to drink.” “Yes, sir.” Mateo dropped into the couch, legs spread like he owned the place. “I’ll take whiskey. Neat. It’s been a long flight.” I sat across from him, crossing my legs. “How was the trip?” He groaned, rubbing his neck. “Long. Hot. Mexico’s fine, though. My business partner’s still an idiot.” We laughed quietly, the sound low and familiar. Jude returned with the drinks, setting them on the glass table. The amber liquid caught the light.

When Colin heard this, his heart tightened, and he could not help but subconsciously laugh and say, “Mr. Wade, you’re really good at making jokes. Aren’t you looking to negotiate a collaboration with us? Our boss is not as humorous as you are, so he will probably take your words seriously.” Juarez, who was aside, was looking at Charlie with a cold expression. Although he had not attended school or learned any foreign languages, Mexico was still very close to the United States, after all. Juarez had also had to live with Americans most of the time, so like the vast majority of Mexicans, he also understood some English.

I want to know where he's taking me, but I don't dare ask for fear he might come to his senses and tell me to get out. I know enough about the layout of this town that we are getting close to Dad's neighborhood. We passed the road that would lead us to his house and continue on about two miles. We pull into a gravel lot where an older building stands. Painted on the front of the building were the words Super Mercado and the name Rodriguez underneath, but smaller, all written in a fancy font. Many of the signs are in Spanish, with pictures, selling tamales, tacos, carne asada, pozole. The beer signs are mostly ones I don't know, imported probably, but I do see Modelo and Dos Equis, Corona. I

"What's up? You've been MIA all day!" Lexi rolled her eyes good-naturedly. Rachel was always on her case about something. But Lexi loved her anyway – Rachel was her partner in crime, her confidante, her soul sister. "Not much, Rach," Lexi texted back. "Just painting and trying to meet this crazy deadline. You know how it is." Rachel responded with a string of sympathetic emojis and a promise to come over and help Lexi brainstorm. Lexi smiled, feeling grateful for her friend's unwavering support.