Page 53 of Money Shot

“And I’ll kill you if you don’t,” I said.

He studied me for a moment, and eventually reached for the clasp of the watch. One thing I had developed over the many years of doing what I did was a reputation. My customers always ended up with their money, merchandise well worth in excess of the money, or I delivered their client to their doorstep.

And, as a local attorney wouldn’t be able to make much use of me delivering Hector – and he knew it – he further knew I wouldn’t let him leave my sight without the money or an equivalent.

He unclasped the watch, extended his arm, and handed it to me.

“Good choice,” I said as I shoved the watch into my coat pocket.

“Tell that to my wife,” he said. “So what now?”

“We’ll wait for your wife and kids. Tell her we’re old friends. But you’re riding in the truck with me to your house. And I’ll wait till you get the money out of the safe, or wherever you have it. Then, I’ll be gone,” I said.

“I got some brand new 22” rims for a Chevy truck, and a 60” flat screen. Take that shit instead of the watch, homie,” he said.

“Do I look like I need a fucking set of rims? Or a fucking TV? I’m keeping the god damned watch,” I said. “And I’m not your fucking homie, remember that.”

After a few long silent stares and two glasses of water, I watched as a little girl struggled with the front door for a minute, and then finally pulled it open. Dressed in a bright orange colored coat, black leggings, and little black buckled shoes, she was adorable. After scanning the restaurant for a recognizable face, she locked eyes with Hector and smiled.

“Papi!”

Speaking Spanish faster than I was able to understand, she ran across the restaurant and directly toward our table. As she jumped into his arms, it was apparent she was one of his many children.

What seemed to be a small argument ensued, and after a little negotiation, Hector turned to face me.

“She wants to know if she can ride with us in the truck?” he asked.

I cocked an eyebrow and glared at him. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Show me some respect,” he said as he nodded his head toward his daughter.

Although having children in my presence wasn’t something I was used to, it didn’t take me a matter of a split-second to realize I had cursed in front of his child. Cursing in my mother’s home cost me a lot of money over the years, and as much as I hated to admit it, I needed to show him and his daughter respect regardless of the debt he owed.

Show respect, get respect.

“Lo siento por mi elección de palabras,” I said.

The little girl smiled.

“Listo?” I asked.

He nodded his head.

As we stepped out of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk, I noticed a Suburban in front of the front door. Filled with kids who were all waving in our direction, it was apparent the story he told of his wife taking the kids Christmas shopping was true. As we began to walk toward the vehicle, a boy in his teens stepped out of the vehicle and grinned.

“We got you some presents, so don’t be trying to look all in the back and see what they are,” the boy bragged.

The remaining children, all much younger, beat their fists against the windows and made faces as his son stood outside talking about the presents they had purchased. .

In ten days, Christmas would be upon us all.

“This is Vince,” Hector said to his son as he motioned toward me with his free hand.

“Emilio,” the boy said with a smile.

I nodded my head. “Nice to meet you.”

I alternated glances between the boy, Hector, and the Suburban full of excited children. Memories of being a boy at Christmas, and opening presents with my mother and father were some of my fondest memories, even as an adult.