on Roy’s face and in his hair.

“It’s time you started to think about what profession you want to go into when you get older,” said his uncle. “Do you have any ideas?”

“Not yet,” said Roy.

“You can’t go wrong in the construction business.”

“Alfredito told me the guy who accidentally got shot was in the construction business.”

Roy’s uncle picked a cigar out of a box he kept on the front seat next to him, bit off one end, spit the leaves out his window and pushed in the dash lighter.

“Forget about him, Roy,” said Buck. “He was the exception.”