The Beasts of Juarez R.B. Schow (reading the story of the .TXT) 📖

you’re going to turn her into a holy terror,” Sydney said. “I just don’t have the patience for that and neither do you, obviously.”

“No more posting selfies,” he had said.

When Sydney told Callie no more provocative photos, she had said, “C’mon, Mom. There’s nothing sexual about a freaking bellybutton!”

“Not to you, there isn’t. But if you want to keep your Instagram account, something your father is fighting hard with me to remove, then all selfies must be approved by me first.”

“Mom!”

“You have no idea how hard I’m fighting for your internet freedom,” she had said, sounding political even to her own ears. “If you did, the only words leaving your mouth would be ‘Thank you’.”

“Things may feel like they’re too sexual, Mom, but a lot of boys really aren’t interested in girls these days. They like video games and porn, two things that don’t involve actual girls. So we feed the fantasy with a few pictures, so what? Reality is boring, Mom. BORING!”

She was tired of the arguments, but the fights with her daughter would go on until Callie was eighteen and able to leave for college.

“Before you storm off and tell all your friends what a miserable wretch I am, I have something for you.”

“What?” Callie had asked, pouting.

Sydney had pulled her daughter into a hug, wrapping her arms around the girl just as she had done Callie’s entire life.

“Everything I do for you and your sisters, it’s because I love you so much. My heart breaks some nights thinking of what the world is going to do to you girls someday.”

“Is it really that bad?” Callie had asked, resting her head on Sydney’s shoulder.

“Yeah, and it’s getting worse. That’s why we’re so protective of you.”

“It’s not that bad,” Callie had said with laughter in her voice.

“These days, people are ugly, presumptive, entitled, and just plain mean. And that’s when they’re trying to be polite.”

“In the world of politics, maybe.”

“I’m afraid that before we’re dead, these people will cut our entire family down.”

Callie had pulled out of her arms, then looked at her, and asked, “Why would you say something like that?”

“The world hates politicians and we’re front-and-center in one of the worst controversies this nation has ever created.”

“Immigration policies,” Callie had said.

“I’m sorry for your father’s choice in careers. We never knew politics would be this combative.”

“Yeah, well, people suck,” Callie had joked.

“Never have truer words been spoken,” Sydney had said with a warm, motherly smile.

Now, shielding her face from the bright morning sun, Sydney walked down El Paso’s downtown sidewalks with her three beautiful daughters, trying to enjoy the day. There were shops to look in, fried foods to eat, tons of outdoor displays, and a host of interesting people to watch. She was just starting to relax when their bodyguard spoke.

“Keep them closer,” Tyler Vandecourt said behind her.

Up ahead, the crowd was tightening all around them, people moving through the streets like it was New Orleans on a Saturday night.

“What’s anyone going to do to us in broad daylight?” she turned and asked him, the inquiry in no way demeaning of him or his specialty.

“Let’s hope we don’t find out,” he said from behind a pair of mirrored aviator glasses. “Keep Callie and Zoey close. And maybe hold Maisie’s hand.”

Right then, Callie decided to cross the street, heading straight to a booth with tattoo artists, printed body art, and a few younger guys talking to the artists like it was time to get inked.

“Mom, come look at this artwork!” Callie called out as she pushed through throngs of people.

“Get her back here,” Tyler growled. “I said we can’t be separated.”

She turned and fired him a look. “You’re not helping any. You’re just stressing out all of us!”

Zoey broke away, pushed through the crowds as well. The girl stopped when she saw two boys approaching her sister. Sydney saw this as well. They were older, nineteen or twenty at least—entirely too old for Callie.

“Callie, come back here,” she called out as she grabbed Maisie’s hand.

“Mom, you’re hurting me,” Maisie said, pulling her hand back.

“Callie!” she called out, her daughter pretending for a second that Sydney was not her mother now that she had clearly started to panic.

The practiced smile on Callie’s face was too old for her. It was an Instagram headshot meant to get likes from cute boys and social media influencers, not something you use in real life with strangers in a strange city.

“For the love of Christ,” Tyler muttered under his breath.

“She’s got shiny penny syndrome these days,” Sydney said, stepping off the sidewalk into a street full of bodies in motion. “I’ll go and get her.”

Zoey walked back to her and said, “Those gross guys are hitting on Callie and I think she actually likes it.”

“I know,” she said, moving through a group of college kids that smelled like pot and body odor.

A few of the boys glanced at her with lustful eyes. One of them even made a MILF comment she ignored. But then Tyler got the sordid group moving when he shoved one of the boys and told him to keep his eyes to himself.

As she approached the tattoo display, Sydney saw one of the customers touching Callie’s arm, telling her she could get something there, a cool tattoo of a bird or a butterfly.

“What would you do if you got a tattoo right now?” the kid asked Callie. He had a lot of short stubble on his face and bad skin.

Sydney grabbed Callie’s arm and said, “She’s underage, guys.”

Callie started to say something, but Sydney pulled her back into the street heading back to the other side.

“Mom!”

“Bye, Callie,” one of the guys called out.

Callie broke free of her grip, walking ahead of her family where she could sulk in private. Sydney caught up to her and said, “I know you need your