The phone rang. He picked it up and turned his back on his wife, who hurled a can of black beans and stormed from the kitchen in a gust of English expletives.
It was Jasmine on the line. She asked, “What’s all that noise?”
“Marriage,” Avila said.
“Well, love, I’m sitting here with Bridget, and guess where we’re going tonight.”
“To blow somebody?”
“God, look who’s in a piss-poor mood.”
“Sorry,” Avila said. “It’s been a shitty day.”
“We’re driving to the Keys.”
“Yeah?”
“To meet your friend,” said Jasmine.
“No shit? Where?”
“Some motel on the ocean. Can you believe he’s payin’ the both of us to baby-sit some old-timer.”
“Who?” Avila couldn’t imagine what new scam Snapper was running.
Jasmine said, “Just some yutz, I don’t know. We’re supposed to keep him busy for a couple days, take some dirty pictures. Five hundred each is what your friend’s giving us.”
“Geez, that sucks.”
“Business is slow, sweetie. The hurricane turned all our regulars into decent, faithful, God-fearing family men.”
Avila heard Bridget’s giggle in the background. Jasmine said, “So five hundred looks pretty sweet right about now.”
“You can double it if you give up the name of the motel.”
“Why do you think we called? Aren’t you proud of me?”
Avila said, “You’re the best.” “But listen, honey, we need to know-” “Let me talk to Bridget.”
“Nope, we want to know what you got in mind. Because both of us are on probation, as usual-” “Don’t worry,” Avila said.
“-and we don’t need no more trouble, legally speaking.”
“Relax, I said.”
“You ain’t gonna kill this guy?”
“Which guy-Snapper? Hell, no, he owes me money is all. What time are you meeting him?”
Jasmine said, “Around eight.”
Avila checked his wristwatch. “You girls ain’t gonna make Key West by eight o’clock unless you got a rocket car.”
“Not Key West, honey. Islamorada.”
It was seventy-five miles closer, but Avila still wasn’t
certain he could get there in time. First he had to make an offering; such a momentous trip was unthinkable without an offering.
He said, “Jasmine, what’s the name of the motel?”
“Not till you promise me and Bridget won’t get in trouble.”
“Jesus, I already told you.”
She said, “Here’s the deal, so listen. You gotta wait till we get our money from your friend Snapper. Then you gotta promise not to shoot anybody in front of us, OK?”
Avila said, “On my wife’s future grave.”
“Also, you gotta promise to pay us what you said- five hundred each.”
“Yep.”
“Plus two stone crab dinners. That’s Bridget’s idea.”
“No problem,” Avila said. Informing the prostitutes that stone crabs were out of season would only have muddled the negotiation.
“The name,” Avila pressed.
“Paradise Palms. I’ve never been there before. Bridget, neither, but Snapper promised it’s really nice.”
“Compared to prison, I’m sure it’s the fucking Ritz. What’s the room number?”
Jasmine asked Bridget. Bridget didn’t know.
“Doesn’t matter,” Avila said. “I’ll track you down.”
“Remember what you promised!”
“Yeah, I’ll try. It’s already been at least seven seconds.”
“Well, sweetheart, we better cruise.”
Avila was about to set the receiver on the cradle when he remembered something. “Hey! Jasmine, wait!”
“Yeah, what.”
“Did you tell her about me?”
“Bridget? I didn’t tell her nuthin’.” Jasmine sounded puzzled. “What’s to tell?”
“Nuthin’.”
“Oh … you mean about-”
“Don’t say it!”
Jasmine said, “Honey, I would never. That was between you and me. Honest to God.”
“‘Cause the other night you said I was better.” How valiantly Avila had labored to stifle his vocalizing during the lovemaking! What few sounds he’d made were not, by any stretch of the imagination, squeaks.
“The other night you were just great,” said Jasmine. “Fantastic, even. Better than I remembered.” Avila said, “Same goes for you, too.” Later, driving to Sweetwater for the chickens, he couldn’t stop thinking about the call girl’s sultry compliment. Whether she meant a word of it or not wasn’t worth speculating on; the concept of sincerity was so foreign to Avila’s own life that he felt unqualified to pass judgment on Jasmine. He was just glad she’d quit calling herself Morganna-what a clunker of a name to remember in the heat of passion!