The Waiting Room
~ Chapter Eight
Pesos for Pain; Pesos for Kisses
“Monkey.
Smonkey.” came Wood's voice through the megaphone.
“We’ve been
wasting time here people.”
The room had become sullen after
Sparrow and Barrie’s encounter. No one was in the mood to
talk, let
alone listen to Wood, but it did not deter the director. He smoothed
the pink angora fluff of his sweater before continuing.
“Now,
where were we before we were interrupted? Ah, yes. Ideas, my dear
friends, we need fresh ideas.” He turned in
Barrie’s direction,
shouting out, “Do you have any ideas, my good man?”
Finally,
Mort thought, he got his fat ass off my desk, as Barrie stepped away.
This was getting way out of hand. Tension was too high and if it kept
up he was going to kill someone. He wondered where he had put his
shovel.
Bon Bon was still lingering in the far corner,
leaving Victor alone. The Lt. wandered over to stand next to Raphael,
who kept his back to the room, counting his money. Victor
nonchalantly reached over and pinched the Indian’s arm,
giving it a
small twist before he released his fingers.
Raphael jerked
away and faced Victor, his eyes filled with contempt. Then his
expression changed as he looked down on the mark the Cuban had left.
Victor stood, his unlit cigar stuck between his teeth, the brief
satisfaction of inflicting pain fading.
“You give me pain…I
have to gain…hand over five dollars.” Raphael
extended a hand out
requesting payment. Victor begrudgingly dug into his pocket, pulling
out five coins.
He placed them in Raphael’s hand. The Indian
looked at the coins in disgust.
“They’re pesos.” He
said throwing them to the floor. “Useless s--t. I want
American.”
“Sorry amigo” Victor shrugged. “That is
all I carry.”
“Then stay away from me” Raphael hissed.
The sound of
the coins hitting the floor got Jack’s attention. He turned
to look
at them as they rolled across the wood floor, one of them spinning to
a stop at the corner of Mort’s desk. The Captain kept a
squinted
eye on the discarded coin as he made his way over, whistling a pirate
tune beneath his breath. As he reached Mort’s desk he rolled
back
and forth on the balls of his feet waiting for the opportune moment to
snatch the money from the floor.
When he thought no one was
looking, he made his move and whisked the coin up into his hand. Then
held it up for inspection.
“Bloody ‘ell” he cursed.
“This is not gold. What treachery is this?” he
cried out.
“Please, please.” Don Juan stepped over to the
pirate. “If
you do not wish to keep the coin, may I?” The Latin lover
held out
a flat hand. Jack began to place the peso in it, pulling back several
times as if DeMarco would grab him, then finally relinquished the
coin.
“Mucho gracias.” The Spaniard bowed. Jack returned
the bow with hands in a prayer position. DeMarco then sauntered over
to Bon Bon, who began to toy with her boa as he approached.
“For
you, my lovely. For the beauty that you radiate, bringing light into
this otherwise darkened world.” He held the coin up between
two
fingers and BonBon lifted a slender, delicate hand to take it,
allowing their fingers to touch.
“Thank you,” she cooed,
leaning in and pecking him on his cheek., then sashayed back to
Victor.
DeMarco watched with delight as the she-male took a
seat, crossing those long, high-heeled legs and blew another kiss in
his direction.
“Ah, yes,” he mumured, “there is nothing
like a woman.”