Los Cuatro
Copyright© 2025 by Art Samms
Chapter 19
First day on the job. Again.
This time, I wasn’t walking into a shiny office building or sitting in a cubicle surrounded by rows of other mid-level developers. This time, I was working from the dining room table in Luz’s and Marisol’s house—wedged between a bowl of fruit and a pile of books that may or may not have been intentionally stacked into the shape of a cat. Luz insisted they were not, but I had my doubts.
I powered up my old laptop—still dusty from lying idle for weeks in Utah, but mercifully intact—and logged into my project management dashboard. The internet was solid, my coffee was hot, and despite the unconventional setting, I felt something that had eluded me for a while: focus. It helped that Beto had been unusually chill about me turning the dining area into a temporary office. “You have work? Good. You work here,” he’d said, nodding toward the table like he’d just granted me land rights. I was grateful ... it was more than I expected.
About an hour in, I could already feel my laptop groaning under the weight of the software I needed. It lagged, it froze, it coughed like an old man trying to run a marathon. I’d make it through the week with this thing, but barely. What I really wanted was something sleek and fast, something with enough RAM to light up the sky.
I opened another tab and started browsing laptops, already zeroing in on a few contenders. Then the idea hit me: I’ll get the new one for myself ... and give this one to Luz. She’d mentioned wanting a laptop for her blog work and online stuff. Sure, it was a little dated, but still serviceable. For her purposes, it was more than fine. She’d be thrilled.
I minimized the tab when I heard her footsteps. Luz poked her head into the dining room, still wearing her oversized T-shirt and mismatched socks. “Hey, how’s it going?”
“Good,” I said, stretching. “Getting the hang of it. Not a bad first day at the dining room office.”
She smiled. “You want me to make some space for you in the back room or something?”
“Nah, this works for now. I’ve already claimed this table in the name of productivity.”
She laughed. “Let me know if you need snacks. Productivity needs fuel.”
I hesitated, then said, “Actually, I was wondering ... I’m going to look at a couple apartments tomorrow. Want to come with me? Could use a second opinion.”
Her face lit up. “Absolutely. I love judging other people’s decorating decisions.”
“Perfect. I’ve got two appointments set up for the afternoon. Should be interesting.”
I didn’t mention the laptop. That part would come later. For now, I just returned her smile and watched as she wandered back toward the kitchen, probably to forage for mango slices.
A little later on, I’d really started to bury myself in work. The dining table had officially become Mission Control. My laptop was propped up on a stack of cookbooks for better posture, half a notepad was filled with scribbled notes, and I had a half-drunk mug of coffee cooling beside me. I was deep in a line of code that wasn’t cooperating when my phone buzzed beside the keyboard.
It was none other than Isa.
I smiled and picked it up. “Well, well, if it isn’t the queen of the dance floor.”
She laughed immediately, that signature bubbly Isa laugh. “You’re just mad I upstaged you.”
“You did not. That was Luz. I was collateral damage.”
“True.” She paused. “Hey, I just wanted to check in. First day of work—how’s it going? You haven’t rage-quit yet, right?”
“Not yet. I’m still in the ‘fake it till you make it’ phase. But it’s good. Actually, it feels weird to be working again.”
“I bet. But I’m glad. It’s a step, you know?”
I leaned back in the chair, letting her voice fill the room for a second. It still struck me how much we’d all been through, how much had changed.
“There’s another reason I called,” Isa added, her tone shifting just slightly. Softer, more serious. “I’ve been thinking about the list we made. The people in Mexico who helped us.”
I sat up straighter. “Yeah?”
“I’ve got the list with me. The one Luz wrote out. Names, addresses, towns. I’ve been looking at it again. I just ... I feel like now that we’re back and starting to live our lives again, we can’t forget them. We promised we’d do something. I feel it in my heart, Brendan. We owe them.”
She didn’t need to convince me. “I agree. Completely. You’re right—it’s time. We said we’d pay it forward, and we will.”
“I know it’s not simple. Especially with the whole cartel situation,” she added. “But I don’t want fear to keep us from doing what’s right.”
“No, you’re right. We’ll just need to be smart. Anonymous, if possible. No names, no attention, just ... help.”
“So, can we all get together soon? Talk it out? I’ll join on video, obviously.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Let me talk to Luz and Marisol. We’ll make time. The four of us—we’ll figure it out.”
“Thanks, Brendan.”
“Thank you, Isa. You’re the one keeping us honest.”
She laughed again. “Somebody has to be the conscience of this group.”
“And that somebody is five-foot-two, wears glitter eyeliner, and calls people out in two languages.”
“Exacto.”
We hung up not long after, and I sat there staring at my screen for a moment, thinking about that list. Those families who fed us and sheltered us when they barely had enough for themselves. The churches that gave us shelter. The stores we ... well, borrowed from. We hadn’t forgotten. We were free because of them.
And now it was time to make good on that freedom.
I was up by six, laptop open, coffee in hand, and earbuds in to keep things quiet. The house was still and dark, the kind of quiet you could only find before the sun made its way through the blinds. I actually liked it—being productive while the world was still half-asleep made me feel ahead of the game.
I’d gotten through most of my to-do list for work by seven-thirty when I heard soft footsteps behind me. It was Luz, in pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt, hair a sleepy mess, rubbing her eyes. “You’re already working?”
I pulled out one earbud. “Trying not to wake the whole house.”
She yawned and gave me a small smile. “Too late.”
“Sorry.” I stood and kissed her forehead. “I’ll make it up to you—with breakfast.”
It wasn’t much—toast, eggs, more coffee—but we sat together at the kitchen counter, quietly enjoying the morning. Just us and the hum of the fridge.
“I’ve gotta run a quick errand before we go look at the apartments,” I said as I rinsed off my plate.
She tilted her head. “What kind of errand?”
I shrugged, intentionally vague. “Just a thing I’ve been meaning to do. Won’t take long.”
She squinted at me, suspicious. “You’re being all mysterious.”
“Me? Never.”
After she wandered off to shower, I went online and placed an order for something I’d been thinking about for a while now—something for Marisol. A proper thank-you. She’d done so much, and I wanted to make sure she knew it hadn’t gone unnoticed. It was something I could print out and hand to her later. No fanfare. Just a gesture.
With that done, I headed out and picked up the new laptop I’d been eyeing. Top of the line. Fast, sleek, all the bells and whistles. When I got back, Luz was waiting by the door, purse in hand.
“You ready?” she asked.
“Yeah, but before we go—” I pulled the old laptop case from behind my back and handed it to her. “This is yours now.”
She blinked. “Wait—what?”
“My old laptop. It’s still got plenty of life left in it, and you mentioned yours was dying a slow, tragic death. This one’s perfect for your blog work, or whatever else you want it for.”
She opened it, ran her hands over the keyboard. Her eyes got shiny, but she didn’t try to hide it.
“Brendan...”
“I needed an upgrade anyway,” I told her. “This just gave me a good excuse.”
She set the laptop down and threw her arms around me. “Thank you. Seriously.”
“You’re welcome. Now let’s go find me a place to live before your dad starts charging me rent for his dining room.”
We headed out, climbing into my car, her still clutching the laptop bag like it was made of gold. And maybe to her, it was.
The first apartment wasn’t terrible. Just ... fine. The unit was on the third floor, and my thighs were already annoyed halfway up the stairs. Inside, it was clean enough, but the layout felt cramped, and the rent was pushing what I’d consider reasonable for the square footage. The kitchen cabinets looked like they hadn’t been updated since the early 2000s, and the whole place had that faint smell of ... age. Not bad, just old.
Luz did her best to be positive about it, pointing out the light in the living room and the decent closet space.
I shrugged. “I could live here if I had to. But let’s see the second place before I make a call.”
“Agreed,” she said, wrinkling her nose a little as we descended the stairs.
We drove ten minutes to the next complex. Newer neighborhood. Cleaner streets. As soon as we pulled up, I had a better feeling. By the time we stepped inside the unit, I knew the first apartment didn’t stand a chance.
Second floor. Spacious living area. Big windows that let in a ton of natural light. The kitchen had granite countertops and new appliances. Two bedrooms. Two bathrooms.
Luz wandered into the second bedroom and grinned. “This would make a perfect office for you.”
I stood in the doorway, taking it all in. My own office. My own space. Quiet when I needed it. Room to think.
“I want it,” I said.
“That was fast.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes you just know.”
I filled out the application right then and there. The leasing agent told me the unit was available immediately, and I didn’t hesitate. I signed the paperwork, put down the deposit and first month’s rent, and it felt like claiming something. Like staking a little flag into solid ground.
I arranged for the pod with my things to be delivered Saturday morning. Just a few more days and I’d have a place to call mine again. No more borrowed dining rooms. No more quietly tiptoeing around someone else’s schedule.
Before telling anyone else, Luz and I drove to a little Mexican place she liked and grabbed a booth in the corner. We ordered big—enchiladas, rice, beans, horchata. We were starving, and this was a celebration.
“To new beginnings,” I said, raising my glass.
She clinked hers against mine. “To your new home.”
And damn if it didn’t already feel like one.
Back at Luz’s place, the rest of the afternoon flew by. It was creeping up on six, and I kept glancing at the door like a dog waiting for its owner to come home. Luz already knew what I had planned, and she’d given me one of those soft smiles that told me she thought I was doing something good. That helped settle the nerves—just a little. She’d left me alone so I could speak with Marisol one on one.
The door finally opened, and Marisol stepped inside looking like she’d been through five rounds with Monday and lost them all.
She dropped her bag with a thud and let out a long breath. “They’re trying to kill me,” she said. “Second day back and I’m already a walking corpse.”
“You look great for a corpse,” I said.
She snorted, kicked off her shoes, and plopped onto the couch.
“I’ve got news,” I said, sitting across from her. “I signed a lease. I move in Saturday.”
That got her attention. Her eyes lit up, and she sat up straighter. “Seriously? That’s awesome. Where?”
I gave her the quick rundown. She grinned. “I’m ready for another move. I’ve already got the muscle memory from last time.”
“I’m not turning that offer down,” I said. “And I’ve got something else, too. Isa called yesterday. She wants us to talk about how to repay the people who helped us in Mexico. The list. She’s been holding onto it.”
Marisol nodded immediately. “It’s time,” she said. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. We owe them more than we can say.” She glanced at the clock. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow evening. Isa’s doing something with her parents tonight, but tomorrow works.”
I nodded. “Sounds good.”
Her expression softened, just for a second. She looked tired, but beneath that was the steel core I’d come to know and admire.
“I’ve got one more thing,” I said. My tone shifted without me trying—it got quieter, more serious. “This is for you.”
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