“How’s your mother, Juan Manuel?” he asked. “Your family’s in Mazatlán, right? I’ve got friends in Mexico, you know. Good ones. I’m sure they’d be happy to check in on your family.” Juan Manuel let go of my arm then. “No need,” he said. “They are fine.” “Good. Let’s keep it that way,” he replied. How lovely that Rodney was concerned about the well-being of Juan Manuel’s family, I thought.
