The drama continues!
Part 1 here!
Timmy continued to play the best friend role,
which was actually kind of nice. He seemed genuinely interested in
my happiness and comfortability, often performing nice gestures
like buying me a drink or offering a piece of his candy bar.
Of course I understood this was all part of his plan to eventually
get inside my wallet, but that knowledge only made our dynamic more
absurdly comical in my eyes.
It soon became apparent that Timmy dabbled in the narcotics biz.
Mostly because after asking whether or not I was a cop (is that
really a law, where cops have to admit their punitive intentions if
queried?), he offered me a giant nug of the green stuff for a
“great price”. I declined, and he assured me that if I ever
needed weed or anything else, he was the guy.
No big deal, I thought. We’re in Latin America and even back
home I have friends who are, shall we say, entrepreneurial.
A couple days go by and nothing out of the ordinary happens. My
money and supplies are seemingly in order, and Timmy and I are
getting along fine. He had a girl over one of the nights, which put
me on the couch for a few hours, but that’s to be expected in a
shared-living situation. Then one day, out of nowhere, he pulls me
outside for a chat.
“Bro, look… if either of the guys here (they were living in the
first room) asks, tell them you’re only paying me $10 a night.”
“Errrr… why?”
“Because man, if they know you’re paying $30 a night they’re
gonna think you got money, and they’re a little sketchy, you
know?”
I had met the other guys. They seemed normal, but who’s to say
what evils lurk beneath?
He continued, “Oh and hey, you got $20 I can borrow?”
“I just gave you $90 the other day (for my first three nights),
what happened to all of that?”
“Man, those ninety bucks were gone like that. I had to
buy food and supplies and pay off a couple utility bills. You know
how it is. So yeah if you could give me $20 right now I’d really
appreciate that.”
This was an obvious red flag, but seeing as how I’d have to pay
him for rent the next day anyway, I conceded. And considering
Carnaval had just ended, I talked him down to $20 per night for the
remainder of my stay. I didn’t expect to get the money back, but
rather wrote it off as a down payment.
Later that day, one of the guys from the first room, let’s call
him Luis, pulled me aside and asked how much I’d been paying Timmy.
I’m a terrible liar, especially when put on the spot, so decided to
tell the truth and see how things played out.
When I told Luis about the $30 rent, a bit of air escaped his
mouth as he shook his head.
“Uhhh… is there a problem?”
“Yeah, but not with you,” he responded. “I need to go have a
talk with Timmy.”
Five minutes later, Timmy whistles at me from around the
corner.
Psssst. “Mike, come here!”
I approach Timmy and shoot him a “what’s up” look.
“Bro what did I tell you? Why you went and told Luis about our
deal?”
“I… uhhh… kinda panicked and told the truth.”
“Maaan that’s fucked up Mike. I thought we were friends bro.
Why’d you do this to me?”
“I thought you only wanted me to lie for my own protection, so I
don’t see the problem.”
“Ok man, here’s the thing. Those guys want a piece of the profit
right? But they don’t do shit. I’m the one who found you, right?
I’m the one who takes care of you, y’know? So we have to go back
and you tell Luis you were confused is all.”
We had a back-and-forth about it but eventually I caved. I
returned to Luis and told him I was confused by the language
barrier and what I’d meant to say was that I only paid Timmy $10
per night.
This didn’t bode well with Luis, and ultimately led to the
dramatic conclusion of this story…
Coming tomorrow!
