The Temptation of Demetrio Vigil Read Free Page B

The paper’s a little waxy on the inside, but it’ll
do.”
    “I’m really not a pig all the time.”
    “Come, sit.” He patted the ground next to him. “Warm
up.”
    “I’m not even that cold anymore.”
    This seemed to worry him. “Snow calmed down is all.
You need to stay warm. Frostbite can make it seem like you ain’t
cold no more when you’re colder than before. Here. I won’t bite
you. C’mon.” He patted the snow next to him. “Stay close to me. We
conserve body heat that way.”
    I did as he asked, and he pulled me in close. He did
not touch me in a romantic way, more like the way a nurse might
adjust your pillows in the hospital. I noticed his exquisite hands
now. They were large, the color of soft caramel candies, and
strong, with clean, short nails. He had long, graceful fingers. His
left hand had a dark blue tattoo on the back of it, in the space
between the thumb and index finger. It looked like roman numerals,
like the tattoos on his neck.
    “What’s that for?” I asked.
    “You really wanna know?” he raised a brow at me.
    I nodded.
    “Gang symbols,” he said, hugging me closer.
    “You’re in a gang ?” It was scary, but also sort
of exciting, to hear this. I’d never known anyone in an actual gang
before.
    He laughed out loud. “Nah. Not no more, mami. I’m
working on getting’ out right now.”
    I sat uncomfortably with this information for a
moment, not able to think of anything to say. Then I joked,
stupidly, “Is that where you learned to build fires? Your gang?
Like boy scouts? Do you get gang patches to put on your sash?”
    He looked surprised and pleased by my obnoxious
humor. “Nah. I learned fires and all that after, on, well,” he
paused, “on the farm.”
    “Well, wherever you learned all of this stuff, thank
you,” I said weakly. “Whoever you are.”
    He held me against his side with one strong arm and
used the other to coax a water bottle out of his toolbox. He popped
the cap and handed it to me.
    “Drink,” he said. “You lost some blood. You need
it.”
    I chugged the cold water. I wondered why it wasn’t
frozen, but thought maybe it was warmer in the box where he’d had
it. It tasted unusually sweet, and felt unbelievably good on my
throat. When I was finished, I asked him, “You got a name?”
    He leaned forward and rubbed his hands together over
the fire, smiled up at me. His teeth were perfectly straight, and
very white. They made my heart hurt. “Demetrio.”
    “De- what?”
    “Demetrio,” he said, with a palpable exhaustion that
probably came from having to explain his weird name all the time.
“Demetrius in English. Demetrio in Spanish.”
    “I’m Maria,” I told him. “It’s
probably Maria no matter what. Maybe not in Mandarin. I’m not sure
what it is in Mandarin. Maybe Hoochie Min.”
    “Maria.” He smiled at
me.
    “It’s actually Maria Luisa, but
people just call me Maria.”
    “Cool. I like that. Maria . Good to meet
you.”
    “You too. You live around here or something?”
    Demetrio jutted his chin to the south. “Down in
Golden.”
    “Kind of far from home, aren’t you?”
    “I was out walking around when the storm came in. I
was on my way home when I seen you crash.” His eyes strayed to the
crushed corpse of my car. “Dope ride. Used to be.”
    “Yeah.” I felt awkward, because I knew it was an
amazing car, and I guessed that his type didn’t have access to
amazing cars. So I said, “I hate cars,” even though it wasn’t
really true.
    Demetrio found this amusing. “Only people who ain’t
never had to hitchhike or ride the bus say that. Or walk.” He
raised a brow to indicate himself.
    I eyed him doubtfully. “You always carry a bunch of
first aid stuff when you just go ‘walking around’?”
    “Actually, yeah.”
    “Uhm, why ?”
    “Cuz city people be driving like crazies up in
here,” he said with a sparkle in his eye, shooting another glance
at my ruined BMW.
    “Point taken.”
    “And there’s