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DROP TWENTY
DROP TWENTY Hector pounded on metasteel like the Greek god of the Fire Mountain. He was soaking in sweat, his shirt off and feeling better with each blow. Who did she think she was, coming in here, in his house, in his business, changing things? Hector didn’t handle change all that well. He drove his father’s old truck, he worked his father’s old job, he stayed in the same house he grew up in, heck, he even ate from the very same plates he had growing up. If something wasn’t at least 30 years old, he didn’t use it. Hitting stuff made him feel better. The wiped off his sweat on a dirty towel. Panting, he saw Patty standing in the doorway. She had a wide smile on her face that he hadn’t seen before. “How long were you standing there?” “Not long enough. I managed to get down the stairs
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