The Boys from Dolores
Chapter One
Miami Springs
“This has been a difficult year for the Sad Ones,” Pedro Haber said, but before he could continue, there was a metallic purr, which grew quickly into a feedback loop. The sound squawked over the ballroom, a room full of wrinkled men in brown suits and ageless women in immovable bouffants. Pedro tried to continue. He said, “Four who regularly attend these reunions have fallen, God has them in all his glor—”
But he was cut off now, fatally. The screech made even a busboy put down his bread rolls and cover his ears. A devilish skeeeeeeeTWAAAAAAAAAweeeeeeSKEEEEE refracted off the rented glassware and the golf club plates, a piercing white noise like a fax machine in your head. Old, trembling hands rose reaching for hearing aids.
Pedro, class of ’59, stood calmly and stared at the microphone. One more betrayal in a lifetime of disappointments.
SKWEEEEEEEEEE-BWAAAAAAAAAA-SOOOOOOOOOO.
Pedro ran the reunions because he was the most stalwart, reliable, and capable of the men from the old days. But this was exactly why he disliked being called on to manage things, yet again. He w ... read full excerpt from: The Boys from Dolores ebook
