The Power of the Dog (Power of the Dog, #1)

by Don Winslow

To her, he was madly handsome, with that shock of black hair that fell over his forehead, that rugged broken nose that saved him from being a pretty boy, and the quiet intelligence that had brought a kid from the barrio to UCLA. There was something else, too—a loneliness, a vulnerability, a hurt, an edge of anger—that made him irresistible.

They have a nose for guys like me, Art thought later. The lost, the lonely, the bicultural misfits with a foot in two worlds and a place in neither. And you were perfect for them—smart, street-tough, ambitious. You looked white but you fought brown. All you needed was the polish, and they gave you that.

You don’t let them knock you out, you make them knock you out. You make them break their fucking hands knocking you out, you let them know that they’ve been in a fight, you give them something to remember you by every time they look in a mirror.

the word implies a lot more in Mexican Spanish. Tío could be a parent’s brother, but he could also be any relative who takes an interest in a kid’s life. It goes beyond that; a Tío can be any man who takes you under his wing, an older-brother type, even a paternal figure. Sort of a godfather.