frustrating work made worse by lack of sleep. Because the water has to be changed every couple of hours, you can’t sleep more than an hour and a half, and you can’t go too far away. What you can do is get someone to do it for you. Which is what Bobby did.
Before going down to Mexicali, Bobby decided to check and make sure our old high school buddy, Buck Buck, did like he said and was out irrigating Bobby’s alfalfa.
“Why don’t you just call him?” I asked.
“If I call him and he’s not there, he’ll just lie and say he is. Don’t matter that I’ll find out later. Buck Buck’s like a kid—he don’t know consequences,” Bobby said.
It was fine with me. I was in no hurry to be in Mexicali. I didn’t feel the invulnerability that I once had in high school. Back then, we’d go down to Mexicali almost every weekend and get in trouble. I was older now, wiser, so less likely to get in trouble, but more wary of the trouble that I might find. Mexicali made me nervous.
I looked to the south at the orange glow of the city. We were miles away, but the bug-light-yellow border lights were brighter than the moon.
“What did you say to Mr. Morales?” I asked.
Bobby smiled. “I thanked him for keeping my name out of any police report and apologized for the fire and such. Told him I’d bring him some new cues next time I was in. A peace offering. Never hurts to pay double on a debt a person didn’t want to loan you in the first place.”
“Then you asked about Tomás?”
“He said he hadn’t seen him in a while. That he spends more time on the other side. I felt kind of weird asking to talk to him ’cause I don’t really know him so good. But I said that I remembered that he used to bring the girls up and does he still do that.”
“What’d he say?” I was really holding up my end of this conversation.
“He said yeah, he still brokers the girls, but now he has one of his boys bring ’em. Apparently Tomás has got employees. Didn’t sound like Morales liked the new dude, called him a punk. Got the feeling there’s some bad blood between Mr. Morales and Tomás, but you can’t get nothing from that face.”
“Then he gave you his address?”
“Do I look retarded? Don’t answer that. I was undercover, remember? Had to be subtle. Have a plausible story,” Bobby said. “What I told him was that you hadn’t been laid in five years, and I was worried that you were edging toward queer. Mr. Morales agreed with my assessment, saying something about your long hair. We both agreed it was pretty gayish. He gave it some thought. And seeing that the situation was desperate, he told me where Tomás holds court. Didn’t know if he’d be there or not. But if he is, he said we go there, Tomás should be able to find you a señorita , set you back on the path to Mantown. Or away from Mantown, I guess. One of those.”
“You’re kidding, right? You didn’t say all that.”
But Bobby just laughed.
Bobby pulled his Ranchero onto the shoulder. My side was so close to the ditch bank that I had to slide across the bench seat and get out on the driver’s side. Bobby reached into a cooler in the truck bed and pulled out a six-pack of Coors Light tall boys. He didn’t allow smoking in the Ranchero, so I lit a smoke to get my nicotine fix.
There was a small fire a few yards away, and two figures huddled around it. It was ninety-something degrees. What kind of idiots build a fire?
These kind of idiots. Buck Buck and his brother Snout had a gopher turning on a makeshift spit. They sat on the ground in nothing but boxers and rubber boots, facing the fire. They looked up as we approached, their crooked smiles screaming booze. Bobby handed Snout the six.
Buck Buck shrugged. “You making sure we’re here?”
Bobby ignored him and turned to me. “You remember Buck Buck and Snout, right?”
Everyone I went to high school with, I also went to grammar school with. It was hard to forget anyone you’d known
Before going down to Mexicali, Bobby decided to check and make sure our old high school buddy, Buck Buck, did like he said and was out irrigating Bobby’s alfalfa.
“Why don’t you just call him?” I asked.
“If I call him and he’s not there, he’ll just lie and say he is. Don’t matter that I’ll find out later. Buck Buck’s like a kid—he don’t know consequences,” Bobby said.
It was fine with me. I was in no hurry to be in Mexicali. I didn’t feel the invulnerability that I once had in high school. Back then, we’d go down to Mexicali almost every weekend and get in trouble. I was older now, wiser, so less likely to get in trouble, but more wary of the trouble that I might find. Mexicali made me nervous.
I looked to the south at the orange glow of the city. We were miles away, but the bug-light-yellow border lights were brighter than the moon.
“What did you say to Mr. Morales?” I asked.
Bobby smiled. “I thanked him for keeping my name out of any police report and apologized for the fire and such. Told him I’d bring him some new cues next time I was in. A peace offering. Never hurts to pay double on a debt a person didn’t want to loan you in the first place.”
“Then you asked about Tomás?”
“He said he hadn’t seen him in a while. That he spends more time on the other side. I felt kind of weird asking to talk to him ’cause I don’t really know him so good. But I said that I remembered that he used to bring the girls up and does he still do that.”
“What’d he say?” I was really holding up my end of this conversation.
“He said yeah, he still brokers the girls, but now he has one of his boys bring ’em. Apparently Tomás has got employees. Didn’t sound like Morales liked the new dude, called him a punk. Got the feeling there’s some bad blood between Mr. Morales and Tomás, but you can’t get nothing from that face.”
“Then he gave you his address?”
“Do I look retarded? Don’t answer that. I was undercover, remember? Had to be subtle. Have a plausible story,” Bobby said. “What I told him was that you hadn’t been laid in five years, and I was worried that you were edging toward queer. Mr. Morales agreed with my assessment, saying something about your long hair. We both agreed it was pretty gayish. He gave it some thought. And seeing that the situation was desperate, he told me where Tomás holds court. Didn’t know if he’d be there or not. But if he is, he said we go there, Tomás should be able to find you a señorita , set you back on the path to Mantown. Or away from Mantown, I guess. One of those.”
“You’re kidding, right? You didn’t say all that.”
But Bobby just laughed.
Bobby pulled his Ranchero onto the shoulder. My side was so close to the ditch bank that I had to slide across the bench seat and get out on the driver’s side. Bobby reached into a cooler in the truck bed and pulled out a six-pack of Coors Light tall boys. He didn’t allow smoking in the Ranchero, so I lit a smoke to get my nicotine fix.
There was a small fire a few yards away, and two figures huddled around it. It was ninety-something degrees. What kind of idiots build a fire?
These kind of idiots. Buck Buck and his brother Snout had a gopher turning on a makeshift spit. They sat on the ground in nothing but boxers and rubber boots, facing the fire. They looked up as we approached, their crooked smiles screaming booze. Bobby handed Snout the six.
Buck Buck shrugged. “You making sure we’re here?”
Bobby ignored him and turned to me. “You remember Buck Buck and Snout, right?”
Everyone I went to high school with, I also went to grammar school with. It was hard to forget anyone you’d known
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