The hotel floor creaked with the weight of them as they barreled up to the bar. They spoke no Spanish, but instead a simplified English that would have been comical if it wasn’t so insulting.
“Hey, Peedro! What’s a fella got to do to get a fucking drink around here?” bellowed the fatter of the two.
Olivár made the snap decision to take the high road. He turned slowly and placed his hands on the tiled surface. “What would you like, sir?” he said in his perfect English.
“I’ll be dipped in dogshit!” said the other. “This wetback speaks American!”