Page 52 of Money Shot

VINCE

December 15th,2014

It was apparent Sienna was quite fond of Christmas, and obviously more so than any other holiday. Her constant listening to Christmas music and her inability to hide her excitement as the day approached caused me to ask more questions, and in due time I learned that her birth, her mother’s death, and the holiday all shared the same day on the calendar. Throughout her childhood, she and her father spent the day celebrating not only the holiday and her birthday, but her mother’s sacrifice, which ultimately provided Sienna with the gift of life.

I knew there weren’t many people who would maintain such a positive outlook on life after forfeiting their entire family at such an early age, but Sienna wasn’t like everyone else. She was grateful for what she had, appreciative for the time she was able to spend with her father, and had no reservations admitting that although she wished she would have been able to meet her mother, she blamed no one for her loss.

Christmas had always been a holiday I enjoyed, but on this particular year, I was enjoying it just a little bit more.

Even if it was difficult to admit.

“What’s the options?” he asked nervously.

“You’re out of fucking options,” I responded. “He saved you from a dime piece in the joint. The fucking charge was manslaughter. You remember the not guilty verdict, right? I bet you had a huge fucking fiesta for that, didn’t you?”

He glanced around the restaurant and leaned toward the center of the table. “I remember. But check this out…”

I shook my head and raised my left index finger in the air. “Check this out. You owe him eight, and my cut is thirty percent. That’s ten thousand four hundred. Not negotiable.”

Sitting in a restaurant with a gun in the pocket of my coat made me slightly uncomfortable, but this guy had proven to be impossible for me to find. After paying $500 to an informant a few weeks prior, the call finally came. I learned Hector was eating at one of his favorite places in the barrio, and if I hurried, I could catch him there. As I walked in, he was paying his bill and preparing to leave.

Now sitting at the table trying to negotiate a payoff in the presence of a hundred Spanish speaking patrons, I was beginning to feel like the center of attention. In this crowd, I stood out like a turd in a punch bowl.

“Look, Hector. You and I both know you were in the game then, and you’re in the game now. Ten grand isn’t going to kill you. I know enough about you to know you’re aware you need to pay the debt. It’s been six months, and it was due in 30 days. You know enough about me to know if I have to, I’ll drag your ass out of here and it’ll get real ugly real quick. I don’t want that, and I know you don’t either. Solve this problem for me,” I said.

“Navidad’s a bitch, and I got six kids. It creeped up on me this year. And I’m out of the click. You see any of my homies in here?” he asked as he motioned around the room. “Yeah, me neither.”

“I’m stretched thin as fuck ‘till I get another gig,” he said. “Can we reach an agreement?”

“Like what?” I asked.

“I know exactly what I got at home in the safe. It’s like $7,800. I can maybe scrape up a few more and make it eight,” he said. “That’s all. But I need it squashed.”

“Eight leaves your attorney fifty-six hundred. He won’t settle for that,” I said.

“It could pay him off,” he said.

I wasn’t sure he had the money, but I suspected he did. It seemed every time I had to collect money from a member of the Hispanic community I entered into a bargaining agreement, and there was always an expectation of me forfeiting my cut, which I never did. The negotiating process seemed to be part of their culture, which I tried to respect, but eliminating my cut was not an option.

I wasn’t in this business for my health.

“Ten thousand four hundred,” I said as I shook my head. “Borrow what you don’t have.”

“Look, my wife took the kids and went Christmas shopping. She left me off here to eat. I don’t want any trouble when she gets back, not around my kids. So let’s make it eight and be done with it,” he said.

“I ought to put a bullet in your ass and take that gold fucking watch. As many people as you’ve fucked over, I doubt anyone in here would say a fucking word. What’s it worth? I asked.

“Maria got me this,” he said as he pulled his arm away from the table.

“Hell, I need a watch. Mine’s fucked up, anyway. Take it off,” I said.

“I can’t do that,” he said.

I leaned into the center of the table and narrowed my eyes. As he shifted his eyes to meet mine, I gave my demand.

“Actually, you can. Give me the fucking watch or I’ll drag your ass out on the sidewalk and pistol whip you into a bloody fucking pulp. And that, Hector, is a fucking promise,” I said through my teeth.

“She’ll kill me if I give you this watch,” he said.