by Sarah Pauling
Soledad lets Gabe do the introductions because most strangers see him as the more respectable sibling. His attentive green eyes stare from under thick lashes, and his hair lies flat even when it’s desperately in need of a cut.
“We want Queen Mary’s protection,” he says, brazen as anything. Soledad tries not to stare at the ground. Gabe squeezes her hand.
“What can you give her?” the man at the door asks. Huge firearms dangle from his sides.
“We got guns, for one thing. And we’re mechanics. We can fix things. Bikes.”
The bouncer taps a finger against his forearm. “What kind of bikes you mean? Motorcycles or the other ones?”
“No engines,” Gabe says, firm and deliberate. “The kind that’ll last when there’s no gas left.” (Continue Reading…)