Honestly Kid

by Daniel Damkoehler


premature fiction

Ass Kicking Eyes

Looking Hernandez in the eyes is tak­ing a risk. Stop there a moment too long and his dark pupils loose mor­tal­i­ty on you and kick your ass. For some it is a high cliff, oth­ers a preda­tor, and still oth­ers sim­ply that knife from their night­mares. He could nev­er intend this. He does not know why he makes peo­ple uncom­fort­able when they look into his eyes. How could he? In fact, he avoid­ed think­ing about it until his part­ner back in San Jose start­ed brag­ging about it.

So, the kid won’t open the car door for the search. Shit, I’m get­tin’ ready to go back to the car to get a crow­bar and Hernandez he just stands stock still and locks his ass kickin’ con­quis­ta­dor eyes on the kid. Three sec­onds lat­er, the lit­tle bas­tard turns off his god­damned stereo, opens the car door and hands me the keys like he was out in front of the Hilton for valet park­ing. Turns out he had a .45 next to his seat, a .38 in his sock and enough crank in the back to light up half the city.

They were great sta­tion house sto­ries, except they nev­er sur­prised any­one who knew Eduardo Hernandez. They came more as a con­so­la­tion that he had this effect on every­one. No one, until William, ever tried to fig­ure out why this was so or where that ass kick­ing look came from.