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The Waiting Room

~ Chapter Eight


Pesos for Pain; Pesos for Kisses


Example content imageMonkey. 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.”



 

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