Espie looks over her glass of wine and smiles. She tells me how much she really digs this Manuel, the hunky boitoy she met last weekend. I am happy for her. They do make a great looking couple. I twirl my spaghetti and mention that he is perfect, she agrees.
"What about Ricardo? You seem to be hanging around alot together." She asks.
"Just friends." I assure her with a sniff. "No, my dear, a friend last far longer than any boyfriend and Ricardo is too precious to lose."
"He is sweet isn't he."
I confide in her that I finally contacted that William Wiggins after an eight day hiatus and the response I got. It was typical and immature and as follows:
Well, William, I thought that I would contact you perhaps for this last time. I guess you life is going better than any way I could assist you in. I take your silence and obvious avoidance of me means that all is well. I am glad that all is going good and that my assistance is not required. I apologize for me being cross on the phone last Saturday, but I was dealing with four complete morons in front of me and could not talk. Your request came as a surprise. Plus, I had plans for that night. I freaked. However, I did wait for your call Monday which never arrived so I am under the assumption that you must be doing so good that my friendship is no longer needed. Well, if you decide to respond to this and continue what friendship we had, that is cool. If you decide to ignore this and not respond I will accept that to.
Ten minutes later this is the response I got:
whats with the attitude? i didn't do shit to you. but if you want to end our friendship over something like that fine, be an asshole.....i have other things in my life besides you...i think you told me that once...it is vice versa as well..
Espie's retort was that why I waste my time with this vulgar little creature. I stared at my coffee and it hit me. She was right. This guy is a worthless loser. A sycophant and a grifter of the worst nature. As far as I am concerned, he no longer exists.
She then invited me to this new club that is opening this Friday in the PRONAF section of Juarez called King Neptune's Wet Dream, she said it was a rave party. Cool! I have not been to a rave in years!
After dinner, I walked Espie to her bus stop and after a short chat and a goodbye peck on the cheek, she took off on the bus back to her colonia.
The stars were out and the moon was full and I decided to take a stroll through the plaza in front of the Guadalupe Cathedral. There was a crowd watching a group of youths dressed as Native American Indians dancing to a tribal beat. While I was playing spectator, these two American tourists approached me. Young, early twenties and obviously lost.
"Hey man." Said the tall blond one. "Do you speak English?"
I took a drag on my cigarette and said, "Fluently."
"Do you know of any hotels?" Asked the other blond one with the goatee.
I explained I knew several, all within five dollars, but since they wanted one that was safe the price jumped up to twenty dollars. I asked them to follow me to the Hotel Bombin. A shabby whore hotel near the frontier. "You'll like it. It's clean and it has three channels on the t.v. English. Spanish. And porn."
As we walked through the dark and bustling streets of the whore district, they blabbed on nervously that they were coming from California on their way to Florida and stopped over to enjoy Mexico for the first time. And I also found out that they were speed junkies. Could tell that the first time laying my eyes on them. Well, we get to the Hotel Bombin and crawl up the grimy white porcelain stairs to the reception where a queer bodybuilder with a ponytail checks them in. They stash their bags in their dingy double-bed room and after asking several times if their shit was safe we hit the streets.
Walking down the dark lit calle Mariscal, it was bound to happen: like barracudas on bikes, three cops rolled up on us.
Please senor against car please senor hands against car step up to car.
We all knew the position and spread out on the hood of a nearby parked car. Our pockets were emptied and by luck I was cool enough to get the intelligent cop. As my two knew friends were being picked over, my interrogator and I had a hearty discussion on my literary interests and love of Mexico. He was quite pleased and interested. Also, I didn't have centovo one in my wallet-I live in Mexico, Senor, I'm poor!- and he laughed. Unfortunately, my two comrades were rolled for sixty dollars. Eh.
Welcome to Mexico, gringos! While the cops continued to harass the two tourists, I shook my cops hand, offered him a Lucky Strike and said in Spanish and smiled, "Well, enough of this circus. If that is all, Officer, I'm going home." In which he gave me a happy good night. I wished those to guys good luck, waved good bye and walked the few blocks back home.
Once home, I popped in the DVD Kung Fu Hustle and snuggled down to a quiet night at home.