Border Songs Read Online Free PDF Page A

How big do you really wanna go? His wife was losing her mind.His son was in danger. A third of his herd was too sick to milk. And his sailboat was a pipe dream.
    Wayne sucked hard on the final half inch of the joint, smothered a cough, then flicked the last of his roach into the silvery light. The two men watched it ride a gust and arc surprisingly high, a fading spark twirling over the ditch from one country into another.

4
    E AST INDIANS are the best liars,” Dionne told Brandon. “A good Mexican lies for no more than two hours, then gives up. A good Hindu can lie until the second coming of Christ. I’ve never seen such perseverance. And Nigerians? Keep your hand on your wallet. They’re charming and polite as hell. ‘Any-thing-you-want-to-know,’” she said, mimicking their rapid diction. “‘I-have-nothing-to-hide.’ And it’s the exact opposite.”
    “Did you take that ethnic-sensitivity test?” Brandon asked.
    She yanked on the shoulder strap to give her lungs more room. “Fuck you, okay? Seriously.
Fuck you
. It’s my job to prepare you for scammers. God knows the academy didn’t. Yes, you will meet some of the honest little people of the world hoping for a chance to bust ass for a buck, but most of the ones you’ll encounter—welcome to the Border Patrol—will be lying shitbags. And there are patterns to the shit, okay?” She spoke with hands, shoulders and eyebrows, aping his every gesture and flinch. “It ain’t written down, and trust me, everyone will believe that I instructed you, just as I’m telling you now, to treat them all fairly and humanely and to remember they’re all innocent until proven otherwise. We clear?”
    “What about the Chinese?” Brandon asked, noticing the flaming pompadour of a pileated woodpecker—
nine
—flashing from one fir to another.
    “Chinese like to play stupid, but they’re among the smartest. Most of ’em are scamming bastards carrying some letter from some bogusU.S. company inviting them to come share their business secrets. Of course, that’s complete horseshit.”
    She had him troll through downtown Blaine and then turn toward the border, past peeling and abandoned houses. The plucky bayside town was the end of the line. Known for its sunsets and porn—even though the theater had long since closed—as well as its rumble of eighteen-wheelers, Blaine was the busiest northern portal in the West.
    Brandon puttered around the backside of the Sunrise Apartments, a bland three-story box ensconced by overgrown firs. Unsupervised toddlers swung on a rusty aluminum swing set while Canadians whistled by at sixty just ten yards away on Zero Avenue. Brandon lowered his window in time to hear the dry chip of a fox sparrow,
ten
.
    “When I first came up here,” Dionne said, “I’d look at places like this and say, ‘No shit you’ve got problems. The border’s wide open!’ I couldn’t believe it.”
    She reminded him again to forget everything he’d learned at the academy, which was easy enough. He’d known just enough Spanish and guessed right just often enough on the multiple-choice tests to become the first trainee ever stationed in the Blaine sector, which Dionne told him the chief did as a favor to Brandon’s father.
    “You won’t see roadies doing lay-ins like you did yesterday,” she said. “They don’t hide and wait. They park where everybody can see ’em so they don’t have to actually confront anybody. Some pull up by houses with wireless and surf for hours in their rigs. Or they’ll read James Patterson novels and count the days until they can go fishing in their canoes with a cooler full of Coors. And a whole lot of ’em spend most of their shifts watching movies on those mini DVD players. Greatest invention since the leaf blower. Just ask McAfferty Met him yet? Can’t miss him. Never stops talking. I mean,
never
. Talk about a roadie. His screen saver counts down the days till he can retire.”
    “What’s a roadie?”