The drive had taken only ten minutes, but trying to get his mom to leave would likely take much longer. He found her in rare form.
“Rafael,” she cried as he entered the hole-in-the-wall bar. The stench of smoke and alcohol nearly bowled him over. Grimy walls, old vinyl barstools, and rickety tables with mismatched chairs filled the small space, while a jukebox that had to be from the 1970s sat in the far corner.
His mom ran to him, hugging him, but he gripped her shoulders, pushing her away. Black lines of mascara had dried on her pale face and her too-bright pink lipstick blurred into the skin around her mouth. She scrunched her face when she noticed Dustin. “Who are you?” she slurred.
“You’ve met Dustin, Mom.” He held himself back from rolling his eyes at the drunken disaster. “He was
