The guy working the Deli-Mart counter had disappeared. “Hey!” Corazon called, “Are you okay?” A muffled voice came up from the floor. “Yeah.” Scrapes and rustles as the clerk pulled himself to his feet. It was the middle-aged white guy they called “the padre” in the neighborhood. He stood, blinking around at the bullet-riddled remains of the store. “I’m okay. Are you all right?” “Oh, sure.” Corazon lowered the gun. “That stupid bastard was going to kill you por nada. Jesus, I hate that!” “He was just scaring me, I think.” “How is this neighborhood ever going to class up if it keeps eating itself?” Moodily she wiped what looked like a fleck of Ding Dong off her cheek. “Amen,” the padre said. They looked at one another and Corazon smiled and almost laughed but didn’t because her whole body was shaking and she had the feeling that if she lost control she wasn’t going to get it back in a hurry. The padre watched as Corazon wiped her face and absently licked the Ding Dong off her fingers. “You know I’m going to have to charge you for that,” he said, deadpan. Corazon looked around at the bullet-pocked store. “You don’t think the insurance will cover it? Seeing as how I saved your life?” “If the owner was worried about my life, he wouldn’t put me on the late shift. As for the insurance, it’s technically covered, but we have to send the bar code and a bullet back to Hostess if we want to collect.” That time she did laugh, big loud laughs. His worried face crinkled up in a smile but he looked like he was out of practice, laugh-wise. His nametag said “Clay.” She put the safety back on and put her gun in her purse, then held out her hand. “I’m Corazon Suarez.” They shook. The gun made her purse bulge, ruining its line. She looked at it with distaste. “I don’t usually even carry the thing, you know? But I was doing a photo shoot with my boyfriend and then I got home and I had no coffee and if I don’t have coffee in the morning I’m a scorpion, you know? Just a total bitch.” She caught herself almost flirting and was glad she’d mentioned Vic, so at least he knew she had a boyfriend and she wasn’t just being a slut. “So I put the gun in my purse ‘cause it’s so late. I hate that about this place. Poor-on-poor crime. Jesus. What’s that guy want to do, shut down the Deli-Mart so he has to take a bus to Albertson’s somewhere miles from here?” “Oughta go up to Beverly Hills and knock over a Starbucks,” Clay said. “Damn right.” “You’re an anarchist, Corazon.” “No, I’m a Catholic.” “Ah,” Clay said. “It comes to the same thing.”
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