Approaching his car in the M-Trak parking lot, Diego spotted a piece of paper anchored beneath a windshield wiper and waving in the breeze that had kicked up since lunch. He sighed expecting it to be a random flyer or a suggestion to read the Bible three times a day.

As he pulled the paper from the wiper blade, Diego noticed that it was a handwritten note. He read the scrawled words, “My gun says no to Mexicans. No trucks, no crashes! Go back home!”

It was all amateurish, and Diego was surprised that the perpetrator didn’t take the time to individually cut the letters out of a magazine. That would have looked more like the threats from a cheap paperback novel. Still, he couldn’t stop the nervous rumbling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t ignore the fact that the note followed so closely on the heels of Lexie’s accident.

Diego folded the note up and stuffed it in his pocket. He considered calling the police, but Diego’s suspicion of legal authorities that accompanied his youth in Veracruz was still active. He shook his head as he climbed into the car and tried to focus on the more pleasing idea of meeting Alan at a coffee shop.

Visiting The Paddle Wheel coffee shop was an excellent reason for making a trip into downtown Red Wing. The shop was always buzzing with customers, but the old general store space was cavernous and filled with plenty of table seating. Diego stopped at the counter to order his coffee and Alan’s tea.

As he waited, Diego gazed around the space. The crowd was diverse. Men and women in business dress mingled with students in jeans and sneakers. A few heads turned as he walked in, but none of the rest looked up from their laptops and conversations.

Just as his name, “Diego,” was called by the barista, Alan appeared. He was as handsome as always pairing crisp, dark jeans with a dress shirt and tan sports jacket.

With his hands full carrying the drinks, Diego couldn’t hug Alan in greeting, but he smiled as broad as possible. Instead of saying, “Hello,” Alan asked, “Can we take our drinks outside? Maybe we can even sit in one of our cars while we talk.”

Diego leaned forward toward Alan’s right ear to whisper so that no one else could hear. “What’s so mysterious? You sound worried.”

“Please,” whispered Alan. “Follow me.”

They settled into the front seat of Alan’s car, and Diego sipped his coffee before asking about the unusual precautions. “What’s going on? Is someone following us? I feel like I’m on an American TV show.”

Alan said, “Someone doesn’t want me near you, and I don’t know why.” He paused and then added, “At least I’m not sure why. I have an idea of the reason, but I don’t want it to be that.”

Diego smirked. “I think I’m starting to get it. One of your fellow Americans doesn’t want to see you with the dirty Mexican. I might rub off on you and force you to eat tacos and enchiladas.”

Alan sighed. “It’s not funny, Diego. And how did you know that’s the problem?”

Diego pulled the sheet of paper from his pocket, unfolded it, smoothed it along his knee and handed it to Alan. “You might as well see this, too.”

“That’s a death threat, Diego.”

“Of course it is. Is it the first one that you’ve seen? It’s not that unusual to me. The ridiculously childish way it was perpetrated is new.”

Alan shook his head. “No, I’ve never received one. I’ve heard of people receiving death threats, but no, not for me. What’s wrong with the people around here?”

Diego placed a hand on his shoulder. “People are violent creatures, particularly the male of the species. Remember the border?”

“How can I forget? I’d never experienced guns fired so close to me before either except at a shooting range.”

“When I was just a boy, I listened to my father and uncle joking about which family member got shot in the past month. It didn’t happen that often, but it happened often enough. My family was wealthy, and some people didn’t like that. I’m not sure what a bullet ever solved. The wealth just passed on to the next relative, like my parents’ money came to my siblings and me.”

“I didn’t know it was that violent for you growing up.”

Diego loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. “Why do you think I got these? I love the artwork, but I didn’t want to look like my wealthy family members either. I wanted to go out and be treated like an ordinary man.” He scoffed. “It never worked, but I was young and stupid. I didn’t think about the rest of what I wore, the perfectly tailored shirts and jeans.”

“So you really did come here to get away from the guns.”

Diego moved the hand up to the side of Alan’s face. He felt the prickly razor stubble beneath his fingertips and rubbed with his thumb as he spoke. “I did, and my life was quiet and unnoticed until I started hanging out with the gringo. It looks like I’m okay around here as long as I don’t corrupt people like you.”

“Me?” asked Alan.

Diego sighed. “I’m a loner by nature, Alan. I proved to your government that I could invest large amounts of cash and hire gringos, and they let me stay in the country. I went to work, came home, and every once in awhile had a fine dinner out. I think most of my customers don’t even pay attention to my name on the contracts. They only see M-Trak. It’s M-Trak shipping their goods, not Doña Maria’s Truck Service. Now we’re hiding together in your car. What has happened to you, Alan?”

Diego turned his head to stare intently while he waited for Alan to reply. He hoped to escape everything when he left Veracruz, but he didn’t count on Alan’s reappearance. It turned everything upside down, including his emotions. He wanted to run again, but he wouldn’t leave Alan behind. Diego lost him once, but he wasn’t going to do it again.

“Someone accosted me at the grocery store. Then I got a phone call that insists your driver was at fault in the accident.”

Diego blurted out, “That’s a lie!”

Alan nodded and placed a calming hand on Diego’s forearm. “I told him that I read the police report. It said it was the other driver’s fault.”

“As does the passenger from the van. I visited her in the hospital. It’s a blatant lie, Alan!” Diego felt his frustration turning into rage.

Alan moved the hand to Diego’s thigh. “Relax. Maybe it’s just one upset person. There always seems to be at least one out there.”

Diego sighed. “I can’t stand liars. They make my blood boil. In particular, when they mean to cause harm to one of my people. I’ll defend every last one of my drivers.”

Alan continued to stare. Diego noticed a softening in his gaze. He rubbed the spot on Diego’s thigh. Alan said, “I admire that. Your drivers are fortunate to work for you.”

“I wish I felt that way all the time now. They may not be lucky to work for a Mexican.”