“You wanna know why?” Juan searched for a clean spot on the desk to set down his coffee cup. Failing that, he set it down on some older papers that didn’t look vital, “It’s because things are changing, and I don’t like what’s happening.”
“I don’t like the way things are changing either,” Richard made a show of removing the papers from beneath Juan’s cup, shaking them off, and then stacking them unceremoniously on top of another pile. “I don't like that half the signs in this city are written in Spanish, and that I can't order eggs at a restaurant without someone dumping hot sauce on them. But what's bothering you?"
“That girl getting shot bothers me…” Juan sat with his hands folded, looking off into the distance.
“Yeah, sorry,” Richard hung his head and turned towards his computer keyboard, clicking some buttons that would begin his day. “I know I can be an ass sometimes.”
Juan snapped back from his sad reverie and grinned slyly, “You’re not an ass because you don’t appreciate good salsa.”
Richard didn’t look up, but he looked at Juan from the corner of his eye and nodded.
Juan leaned back and rested his chin in his hand, savoring the point he scored. “When I drive through town, I see the trash and people hanging out. Did I tell you some homeless guys jumped me in my alley yesterday, too?”
“What the hell’s going on in your neighborhood, Juan?” Richard reached for the battered coffee pot and raised it to offer Juan another cup.
Juan declined the coffee, silently shrugging his shoulders at the question.
“What are you going to do about it?” Richard demanded.
“What am I going to do about it?” Juan repeated, “What can I do about it?”
“Well, for one thing,” Richard snapped, “you could use that new citizenship of yours to stop voting for the communists and socialists pushing Critical Race Theory and LGBTQ-alphabet soup sex crap.”
Juan felt like he’d been slapped. “Why?” he asked, the frustration creeping up his spine, tightening his shoulders. “Why do you gotta say mean things like that, Richard?”
Richard stared back defiantly, too old to care if he hurt anybody’s feelings.
“You come to all of my parties, and you drink all my beer,” Juan scolded. “When do you ever hear real Mexicans talking about that stuff? I don’t know where you come up with it.”
Richard looked away. “I’m being an ass again, aren’t I?” he asked. “Well, I can’t help it if my whole social life revolves around your family’s next quinceañera.”
“You need to try being nice sometime,” Juan continued. “Nobody likes you, and you’re pretty old already. You’re not going to live forever.”
“And you need to try being a leader sometime, Juan!” A strange emotion clouded his features. He placed a hand on Juan’s arm, “Everybody likes you." Richard held Juan's gaze for a long moment in a gesture totally out of his character. "You and I both know who really runs this company day-to-day. When you speak, people listen.”
Juan turned away, somewhat embarrassed by Richard’s display of emotion. “What are you talkin’ about? I can’t change nothing.”
“Don’t give me that!” Richard nearly shouted.
His outburst made Juan jump in his seat.
Then Richard took a deep breath and said more gently, “Yes, you can make a difference. I made a difference. My father made a difference, and so did his father before him. But like you said, I’m getting too old.”
Now Juan felt bad for commenting on Richard’s age, “What could I do?”
Richard sighed. “I love this country. And I want you to have it, Juan. But you’ve got to take care of it. The people of this community need a leader.”