Once Upon A Wish : Book One Read Online Free Page A

the money would cover the rent
and more than a few dinners at the Merritt Restaurant.
     
“They're they go!” the announcer's voice
rang out.
Nestor's heart burst through his chest.
White Noise took the early lead. The horse ran impressively, nose
down slightly. His breathing seemed controlled and his jockey
pushed him. The horse responded, digging deep.
He hated when his horse took the lead too
early. He preferred that they come off the pace and wait for the
other horses to tire out.
White Noise held his ground, digging in his
hoofs and increasing his lead at the top of the stretch.
Both Nestor and Hernan jumped up and down
as the horse crossed the finish line. They made spectacles of
themselves but they did not care.
Cashing out their ticket, Nestor realized
that he'd not felt this happy in a long time. He whooped as they
exited the gates and Hernan did the same. They high-fived each
other and made their way out of the track.
“Celebration time, amigo!” Nestor said as
they passed an alley. They were crossing between a doughnut shop
and a bridal store. They had no interest in either. Merritt had
much more to offer.
“Give me the fucking money!” a voice called
out from the shadows before stepping up toward them
The punk looked to be in his early
twenties. He had the practiced deadeye look of a wannabe
gang-banger. He wore a bandana bearing the Mexican flag around his
forehead, but Nestor could tell he was native born from the lack of
an accent.
A few feet behind him stood a Samoan. He
wore a sleeveless t-shirt showing his massive arms. His hair was a
frizzed out afro, adding to his intimidating appearance, but his
facial expression suggested something other than a tough guy.
He looked nervously behind himself and to
the side. Probably his first robbery, Nestor thought. The punk had
a practiced air about him. He grabbed Nestor by the shirt. Tattoos
of crosses dotted the man's forearm. His bicep read, “RIP
Antonio.”
“You speak English, mother fucker?”
The punk pressed the gun to Nestor's
stomach.
Nestor eyeballed the young man with
disdain.
“Don't look at me, bitch. Give me the
fuckin' money. All of it. Now.”
Nestor slowly took the wallet out of his
pocket. The punk reached over and snatched it from his hands.
The punk took out the money and dropped the
wallet to the ground.
“Where's the rest of it?”
A blue 1980s style Camaro came screeching
out. A skinny Latin girl sat in the driver side. Her eyes narrowed
at both Nestor and Hernan before glancing to her side to make sure
they were alone.
“I said, where's the rest of it?”
Nestor wanted to get a look at the license
plate but then the gun smashed against his temple.
     
He woke up to the bass line of a car stereo
rattling his windows. Then a siren.
Looking up, he saw Hernan eating a bowl of
Boo Berry cereal at the window.
“What happened?”
“Two guys jumped us.”
“Yeah.” Nestor massaged his throbbing head.
“Then what?”
Hernan did not answer immediately as Nestor
felt his pant pocket for the money. Then he looked on the coffee
table and saw the bills neatly bundled up.
“How did you?”
“I took care of them.” Hernan shoveled a
spoonful of the cereal into his mouth. Then he idly looked out the
window.

CHAPTER 4
     
Nestor went to the refrigerator, took out
an ice tray and dumped two cubes into a napkin.
    He turned on the lamp and
flopped on the couch, holding the ice to his eye. He wanted silence but the
apartment was full of slamming doors from the neighbors, thumps,
and scrapings. The distractions were worsening his
headache.
“Even with our winnings.” Nestor shook his
head exasperated. “We don’t have enough to cover the back rent. Guy
came over yesterday and they'll throw us out tomorrow.”
“Can't we figure something out?” Hernan
asked, sounding desperate. His eyes pleaded, hoping Nestor would
take the lead.
“I am just as bad at figuring things as
you.”
    Nestor pressed the ice
harder to his forehead, as if it trying