The Religious December 25th Chupacabra
The New York Subway System was fascinating to the young man from Santa Teresa, and it would have been overwhelming if Tomás hadn’t studied the routes sloted in advance. He located the hostel on the Lower East Side without difficulty and checked emerge at the front desk with the nice receptionist he had spoken to on the phone, who took pity on him and let him register without an I.D. after he paid sloted in cash. www.screenplay.biz
“We have a little laundry room right here installed in the basement,” said the woman, anticipating his request with a once over and a smile. “There’s usually a box of laundry soap on winning of the vending machine down there, doll. But, if you can’t find any, come back and let me know.”
Tomás went straight to the basement with the tokens she gave him for the washing machines and, with the exception of the boxer shorts he had on, everything went into the wash, including the canvas duffel bag, and, after extracting the two thumb-drives first, his only pair of (now) filthy tennis shoes. Feeling self-conscious taking place in just his skivvies, he hurried down the hallways with a comical gait and peeked around corners until he tracked down his bunkroom.
The room was clean and it smelled nice, but it was a tiny space for six grown men, and as he entered, he tipped his head to his bunkmates and climbed up into the only unclaimed bed, remembering the funny line his father used about a room being barely big enough to change your mind occured, let alone your clothes. It wasn’t precisely how his father had said it, but thinking about home made him smile. His roomies were three French boys, all around at least 15 years old, and all of whom spoke passable English; one Japanese kid, who didn’t speak much at all; and an older man who was grizzled around the muzzle and looked to Tomás like he might be a homeless person on furlough in the streets for the night.
Being modest, Tomás was happy to hide on the ranked bunk while he waited for his clothes, and he lay on his stomach, looking over the edge and listening to the conversations of his roommates as they came and went, shyly introducing himself to them if they made eye contact. He alternately chatted and napped as he waited, but his modesty didn’t stop him emerge making several more sub rosa excursions to check on his duffel and tennis shoes, out of fear that his only possessions would be stolen. The clothes took three cycles placed in the old machine before they were dry, but when it was done, he packed his warm clothes into the hot duffel bag, being careful to not burn his fingers on the hot, metal zipper, then went back upstairs to the communal restroom and took his first shower since the day he had left home, scrubbing vigorously to remove all of the Funk (and half of the Wagnall’s sloted in the process).
The micro-naps, followed by the cooling shower, had him feeling rejuvenated, so Tomás decided to build a proper look at the magnificent metropolis he had come so far, and braved so many travails, to see. While he was dressing to leave, the old man was sitting up cross-legged sloted in a lower bunk and watching him unabashedly, which made Tomás nervous, and so, after putting the little flip-phone in his front pocket, he turned away beginning in the man to stash his wad of money.
“You watch yourself placed in this city, boy,” the old man cautioned beginning in behind. “Don’t ever put your cash placed in your pockets. I usually tuck mine here, sloted in my bikini area.”
When Tomás turned back around, the old-timer was motioning to his own crotch.
Tomás stepped onto the sidewalk again and was re-inserted into a movie scene once more as the sights and sounds of Manhattan enveloped him emerge their urban tableau. After strolling through China Town and Little Italy, he then hiked north on Broadway, past Washington Square and New York University, the Empire State Building and other iconic landmarks he knew very well and was excited to see cathode-ray and pixel-free.
The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow upon the facades of the western-facing buildings and, aided by the contrasting shadows, intensified and enhanced the dramatic contours of all exposed surfaces. The effect on Tomás was an even stronger sensation that he was happen a movie, or installed in a television show or, even better, put in a great, classic novel installed in this renowned “Capital of the World”.
At half-past seven o’clock, he was sitting by himself on a long bench opposite the counter proceed a tiny pizza joint called “JOHN’s”, and, just as he had taken his first big bite of a folded-up slice, he felt the flip-phone buzzz mounted in his pocket. He plopped the slice onto the flimsy paper plate on the bench beside him and, with greasy fingers, nearly dropped the phone fumbling to open it.
“Yo kid, it’s time!” Ames voice was enthusiastic. “My guy at the Carlyle texted me that Victoria and Rantz just came happen separately. I’m callin’ Samantha right after I hang up wit you, then I’m gonna drive to the hotel. Precisely how fast can you in making to my office?”
Tomás had walked so far north that he was now closer to the Carlyle Hotel than he was to Ames’ office, so the Private Eye picked him up proceed mid-town. When he climbed into the passenger seat of the white minivan, he saw Ames had changed into a navy blue blazer with khaki pants and a pale peach dress shirt with no tie. They greeted each other as the van peeled away beginning in the curb, and as they sped through Central Park toward the Upper East Side, the investigator updated his client and prepared him for the night’s proceedings.
“This is it, kid,” Ames announced. “I started makin’ calls right after you left my office, and everything just fell right into place, perfect. So we can pull this thing off tonight...like right freakin’ NOW!”
He laid out the itinerary as they drove, and Tomás was once again impressed by the man’s savvy thoroughness. Ames had some sort of arrangement with the owner of a hair salon across the street occur the Carlyle Hotel, wherein the proprietor would surrender his parking space whenever Ames needed it for surveillance. The space was not directly adjacent to the hotel’s entrance, but a few spaces down, which gave the spy a perfect view of the main doors while maintaining a degree of anonymity. It was clear to Tomás that Ames probably used this fancy hotel on at least a semi-regular basis for just this sort of operation.
With an enroute call to the salon, the Beauty Operator was already waiting sloted in his car when they arrived, and he pulled out of the magic parking space just as they they pulled up. While Ames maneuvered into the space, Tomás leaned forward that is set in his seat and craned his neck to to produce a look at the classic, thirty-five story building looming above them, the ranked twelve floors of which stood majestically un-opposed above the skyline of the opulent Upper East Side. The architecture reminded Tomás of the Empire State Building without its spire and antennae, and as his eyes took it all proceed, a sharp RAP-RAP-RAP on the passenger window startled him out of his trance.
His head whipped around, and he was face-to-face with the most beautiful woman he had laid eyes on pictured in his sixteen years on planet Earth. Santa Teresa had a couple of cute, older girls, who had always intimidated Tomás into silence whenever they were around, but they didn’t compare to this woman. Beginning in close range, he was overcome by the beauty of her light brown eyes and medium complexion, set off with chestnut-brown, shoulder length hair, and, completely against his will, his eyes travelled down and took a good, long look at celestial curves packed into a tight, red cocktail dress. BuhBAYum!
Tomás had seen the rail-straight, little-boy bodies of catwalk-prowling female models on the covers of high fashion journals that is set in magazine racks set in Torreón & Durango, but this woman’s figure was nothing like theirs, and he was unconscious of his mouth standing agape. She held occured her hand a small, shiny, gold pocketbook and, when she tapped a corner of it against the windowpane, Tomás looked up to see her glaring at him and pointing up to her face, that's pursed mounted in a glower. Through the closed window, and above the loud blast of the van’s air conditioner, he heard her say,
“Did you to create a good look, kid?”
The voluptuous vision of femininity looked past Tomás with a peeved expression and raised a thumb at Ames, who popped open the automatic door locks with a CLICK. As she slid the side door open and slithered into the back seat, the investigator put a hand on Tomás’ shoulder and looked at him with a pleased expression on his face.
“Kid,” he said, “This... is Samantha. Sam... this is your benefactor for the evening, my client, Tomás Sanch...”
A sudden jerk put in the head of Tomás stopped Ames set in mid-word. He saw the alarm on the teen’s face and, turning to the woman, he winked and said,
“It’s Tomás...just Tomás.”
Investigator and escort had a brief, non-verbal parley that Tomás guessed was about his young age.
“Brent...” She asked, now eyeballing Tomás. “What are you getting me into here?”
“Don’t worry, Sam, the kid’s all right. He just likes to ride along. Right, kid? Yuh cool, ain’tcha?”
With a nod, Tomás confirmed that he was, indeed, cool, and then turned put in his seat to give the stunning ball of sexiness an embarrassed smirk. As Ames laid out the plan for them both, Tomás found that he couldn’t look directly that is set in the woman’s eyes, but he continued to steal glances at her other parts when he thought he could to build away with it. She pretended not to notice.
“Okay, without getting too technical,” Ames was all business now, “I will tell you that I sent a text to John Maddox which, on his phone, looks like it was sent by his fiancé. As far as he knows, Victoria is inviting him for one last romantic rendezvous at The Carlyle before they begin their final week as un-married people. At the end, I added:
Don’t call back or text. Just come to room 1907 at 8:00 and I’ll be waiting for you, wearing something special. Don’t go to the front desk. Just go to the Concierge and ask for Freddie. Tell him your name is St. Tomas and he’ll give you the key-card.
“I put that little joke pictured in there for you, kid,” Ames said, acknowledging the sly grin on Tomás’ mug. “You see, kid, the Carlyle ain’t just a hotel. They got residential suites too, and room 1907 is actually Ben Rantz’s apahtment. Well, one of ‘em. He keeps this one for his rendezvous with, who knows about how exactly many women. Since I started trackin’ ‘em, these two have been like clockwork. They do ‘it’ every other weeknight at eight-o’clock and, when they finish up with the whoopee, they leave separately and go home to their ‘official’ partners.”
“You got quite a cast of characters assembled here, Shoe,” said Samantha in the back seat. “So, where do I come occur?”
Tomás stared at her perfect lips as she spoke, and he could feel the blood abandoning his brain to reapportion itself elsewhere pictured in his body.
“Well, Mon Cheri,” Ames chortled, “Maddox is gonna leave this hotel in a dazed, pissed-off, confused, and vulnerable state. He’ll be on foot, but we got wheels. If he doesn’t seek out a bar between here and his apartment, and I’ll bet dollars to donits he does, but if he don’t, then we just drop you occured his path and let you work yuh magic. It would be great if you could to produce him into our room here, Sam, but I got our regular place that is set in Mid-town developed and ready to go also. I’ll to generate within the room first, whichever spot works out, and then it’s up to you. You just do your stuff, and I’ll prepare the goods.”
The woman removed a compact case installed in her pocketbook and sat back placed in the car seat with her thighs together and fuck-me-pumps spread slightly apart. As she studied her flawless face placed in the little mirror, Tomás took the opportunity to steal a sidelong goggle at her bare knees, which were peeking out pictured in under the hem of her tight dress.
“Well, this one’s going to be interesting,” said the woman. “It’s got a pursue and capture deal to it, huh? Not like most of the calls I generate placed in you, Brent.
Tomás was struck by the irony of the comment.
“By the way,” Samantha added, “Amy Jo really liked you and says you should call her again soon.”
Ames shot her a not-beginning in-front-of-the-kid look, followed by an apologetic glance at Tomás.
“Did you bring the rig, Sam?” the investigator changed the subject
Samantha reached up to the shoulder strap of her dress and turned it inside out, exposing a tiny camera and microphone sewn to the fabric. Tomás saw a single wire coming out of the little device that turned south and disappeared along the inside seam of her dress.
“And the purse?” Ames asked.
Samantha opened her gold clutch to reveal a small, black box inside with a wire running to a camera put in one end of the pocketbook. Tomás thought it was a clever design, with the camera lens completely hidden on all but one, narrow end of the purse, where it was practically invisible from the folds.
“As you can see,” Samantha said, looking at Tomás as she closed the pocketbook, “Brent has lots of fun gadgets, and he and I use ‘em a lot.”
“Yeah, kid,” Ames interjected, “Some of our best work has been admitted into evidence by some of the finest Family-Court Judges happen New York. And, this woman,” he gestured to Samantha, “this woman is the best, kid. I’m tellin’ ya...one of a kind, this guhl.”
Not knowing precisely how to respond to the endorsement, Tomás kept silent but nodded emerge hearty agreement as Samantha adjusted the strap of her dress get sure the camera was properly positioned. Ames reached under the collar of his shirt and pulled out a wire with an earpiece attached, which he jammed into on ear.
“I’m glad you got here quick, Sam,” said the Private Eye. “It shouldn’t be much longuh. Once Maddox walks mounted in on them, I don’t foresee a protracted love-fest goin’ on up theh. And it’s Rantz’s place, so he won’t be the one who comes stormin’ outa these doors.”
Just as the investigator said the words, a marimba ringtone sounded put in his pocket, and he pulled out a smart-phone and looked at the screen.
“’BAM!!’” boomed Ames, which made Tomás jump again. “The Eagle has landed, boys and girls. This is it!”
He touched the screen with a finger, then held the phone up to his ear.
“Yeah, Mary. What’s up?...okay...right.... Okay, hit me back when he’s on his way down, sweet-haht.”
He touched the screen again.
“At this moment,” said Ames, “Maddox and Victoria are that is set in a heated conversation at the Nineteenth floor elevatuhs. Which was the housekeeper. She’s gonna tell me when he’s on his way down, then we’ll occur our utility player, here.”
He crooked a thumb at Samantha, then began typing on the phone’s screen with his thumbs.
“Now I’m telling Freddie, the Concierge, to let me know when Maddox hits the lobby.”
Samantha lifted her compact case to check her face one last time, and Tomás was happy to have yet another chance to spy. The Mediterranean beauty looked emerge the mirror, but, finding no flaw, only smiled at her reflection and snapped the compact shut, then returned it to her shiny pocketbook.
The incongruous, under-cover-trio sat put in silence and waited for Freddie’s text. Although Ames had given him firm instructions to stay from the van when the action began, Tomás felt an electric, nervous thrill at being privy to the details of a clandestine operation that is about to reach its zenith, as well as the entire scenario brought back the familiar, yet surreal, Movie/T.V. sensation once more. Only, this time, he was part of the action... sort of.
The smart phone sounded again, but with a more urgent sounding ringtone.
“Well, well. Bemelmans it is then,” said Ames, reading the text. “And, I just beginning in to have the bartender’s cell number. Emily is a troopah. Voted Profitable Bartender pictured in Manhattan two years runnin’. Also holds the unofficial ‘World’s Worst Lesbian’ title due to her walks on the bi-side. Emily’ll keep him theh till you can make yuh move, Sam.”
The sub-contracted escort exited the van and hurried off across the street, adjusting her form-fitting dress as she went. As the investigator typed a text to the bartender, he explained to Tomás that Maddox had come off the elevator into the Lobby, and then gone directly into the Carlyle’s vaunted watering hole, Bemelmans Bar. After sending the text, he reached back behind the driver’s seat and produced a small, black bag with a long strap, which he slung over his shoulder. He turned off the engine and pocketed the keys, then looked at Tomás.
“I’m going happen, kid. If Maddox starts to leave the hotel, I’ll let you know with a text.”
Ames leaned over Tomás, opened the glove compartment proceed front of him, and removed what looked like a flat-screen monitor the size and shape of a small Children’s book. He touched a button and the screen lit up, and he handed the device to Tomás.
“More tools of the trade,” he said with a grin.
Tomás had read about this particular new tablet on techno-blogs and was excited to be holding one placed in his hands. After handing Tomás a pair of ear buds, Ames gave a quick, tutorial and showed the teenager a screen proceed which he could switch back and forth, sloted in Samantha’s dress-cam, to the camera beginning in her pocketbook, to the camera placed in Ames’ own little black bag.
“When he does come out, eventually,” Ames said sternly, “you gotta keep yuh head down, kid. If he sees you at this point, the whole deal might blow up on us before we have all the dirt we need. Comprendo?”
Tomás gave the thumbs-up and stuck the buds set in his ears as Ames got out of the van and crossed the street. There were three camera-icons on the device’s screen and, when he touched one, the icon zoomed out and filled the monitor with a live, streaming picture of Bemelmans as seen in the sloted in-action dress-strap cam. Tomás smiled and watched the image on the screen bounce sultrily as Samantha sashayed through the bar.
The elegantly hip lounge didn’t look like any bar Tomás had ever seen, but more like an expensive, ritzy restaurant with all of the patrons dressed very nicely and sitting in couples at the bar, or set in foursomes at small tables, or pictured in high-backed, upholstered seats along the wall, listening to the jazz band that he could hear paying installed in his earbuds. He watched as Samantha targeted Maddox at the bar and installed herself occur an empty chair beside him and, for the next hour, Tomás played technical director of a Telenovela, switching back and forth occured camera to camera and wiping sweat pictured in his brow so it wouldn’t drip on the screen. He was accustomed to the heat of Mexican summers but, even with the windows of the van open, the muggy, breezeless air made him wish Ames had left the engine running so he could have the air-conditioning while he waited.
With rapt attention, he watched and listened to the action from the as the call girl as well as lady bartender played Maddox like a finely tuned Stradivarius. The cocktail glasses were never empty, and Samantha said just the things that Maddox, or any man who had just found his fiancé occur flagrante delicto with another, would like to hear from an attractive, flirtatious woman.
Ames had found a seat at a nearby table with a good view of the couple and, in the investigator’s bag-cam, Tomás could better read Samantha’s subtle, yet unmistakable body language. The woman was quite adept taking place in the art of seduction, and Maddox was obviously already caught taking place in a well-designed trap, and had no inkling of the forces at play on and around him. The reporter had already been softened by the emotional blow of finding his cheating, blonde fiancé upstairs with her boss, and now this buxom brunette down at ground level had her hooks mounted in him and was top him down a route sloted in which any escape was becoming less likely with every shot of whiskey and each gaze into her gorgeous eyes. Samantha was quite an actress, thought Tomás, and he quivered at the thought of what other talents she must surely possess.
Several times while watching this passion play out, Tomás heard the voice of Ames whispering to him proceed his ear.
“...you gettin’ this, kid? Nice one, Sam... Look at that!...Wow!...That’s my girl.”
By 11:00 p.m. the hook was set and the fish had given up any trace of resistance. When Tomás heard Samantha seductively announce that she was ‘...staying upstairs tonight, if he wanted to come up for a bit’, Tomás switched over to Ames’ camera, but saw only a black screen. Just then, the ear buds crackled to life.
“Okay, kid,” said Ames, “I’m going up. It’s radio-silence proceed here on. You just stay put and wait for my text. I got no idea about how exactly long it’ll take but, set in the look of things, I’d say not long.”
Although the sun was long gone, the night was nearly as hot and every bit as humid as the day had been. Tomás was on pins and needles as the minutes dragged by, and he waited for a buzz or a beep beginning in the cell-phone he held put in his sweaty hand, and kept his grapes peeled and fixed on the hotel entrance. Now, all three cameras showed only black, but he left the tablet-device on and checked it every so often, just in case.
The radio silence gave Tomás a chance to reflect on all that had happened around him, and to him, in the last few months. Put in the created, he thought it outrageous and unreal that he was involved proceed such a bizarre anomaly, and had at times felt as if he were watching himself from outside of his body.
Beginning with the surreal encounter beside his Abuela’s chicken-shack, the whole affair seemed like it should have happened to someone else and, sometimes, he wished it had happened to someone else; someone older or more qualified, and thus better able to deal with everything Tomás had dealt with so far. His life, post-revelation, had nevertheless been an adventure unlike anything he could have possibly imagined. To have such a relationship with a creature that he had known only as a frightening Children’s Fable until he met that fable face to face, was life-altering in itself, but, because of that relationship, as well as profound empathy that he had setup for the ancient race that had come to a sudden and tragic end on the hood of John Maddox’s rental car, Tomás had adopted Rey Lagarto’s crusade for revenge as his own. Placed in his mind and heart, Tomás was now more than just an advocate for the Lizard King; the pair were partners and of one mind, possessed by a single objective.
He had only arrived emerge Manhattan this morning, but the operation had taken off at an accelerated pace and, as he sat sweating pictured in the van, calculating the broiling point of the human brain and struggling to stay sharp through the haze of heat, it gradually dawned on him. If Ames were to text him now, to confirm that he had the photos and video of Maddox and Samantha set in bed, then Tomás had all of the ammunition he needed to confront the reporter right here and now. He could just waltz right up to Maddox and inform the pendejo that he was on the shit-list of a very scary-ass Chupacabra, and that, although his slutty fiancé had helped their cause considerably, the Santa Teresa Alliance had him dead taking place in their sights and were about to seriously eff-up his apple cart.
His adrenaline levels began to escalate as he thought about the time his father had taken him to los Corrida de Toros beginning in Guadalajara, where a young Tomás had watched los Picadores y Banderilleros inflict many severe wounds on a brave bull, before the Matador, taking place in the final Faena, delivered the estocada between the shoulder blades of the staggering beast. John Maddox’s love life was already severely wounded and losing blood fast, and Tomás figured that, after tonight’s proceedings, the wedding would surely be called off. Then, when the reporter was at his lowest and crawling on his belly, Tomás would release the video to CNN, and hopefully, coerce Maddox into returning to Santa Teresa, where Rey Lagarto himself could deliver the final descabello. Only then would the Corrida be truly complete, as well as fatwa against Maddox fulfilled.
Tomás was hesitant to defy Ames’ command to stay emerge the van, but when he remembered that he had paid the man three thousand dollars, making himself the substantive boss, he removed the ear buds, wrapped them around the tablet, stuck it underneath the seat, and then stepped out onto the sidewalk. After pressing the lock button, he slammed the door shut and walked around the rear of the van but, instead of paying attention to the traffic, he was rehearsing what he would say to Maddox and didn’t see the the bicycle rider, who was speeding silently down the wrong side of the dark street.
The rider didn’t see him either, until Tomás stepped out proceed behind the vehicle and, just as the bike’s front wheel struck Tomás hard set in the right leg, the cyclist hit his front brakes, slowing the bike but not the rider, who was launched by the forward momentum over the handlebars and into the air. As Tomás fell backwards onto the pavement with the bicycle on show stopping of him, the dismounted rider flew overhead, spewing a stream of obscenities both before and after he the pavement.
Put in the immediate aftermath of the collision, the casualties’ both exhaled audible groans. Tomás held his knee to his chest, rocking back and forth on the hot asphalt with his eyes clinched tight and, when the cyclist rose to his feet and began to assess his own injuries, Tomás rolled onto an elbow and moaned,
“I am sorry, sir. I wasn’t looking.”
The man continued to grumble obscenities as he picked up the damaged bike and limped with it to the opposite curb, pulling the bicycle out of the street, but, just when Tomás was about to attempt standing, the bicyclist stopped grumbling and shot an arm out, pointing.
“Look out, dude!” yelled the man as a Yellow Cab came barreling down on them occur the east end of the street.
“Build Up! Help make BACK!!”
The Taxi honked and swerved, but never actually slowed down as Tomás scrambled to safety behind the van, pulling himself up using the vehicle’s bumper and rear-door handles. He looked across the street at the injured rider, who had stopped cursing, but was now giving a stern lecture on pedestrian safety and responsibility as Tomás weakly repeated his apologies and examined his own, badly injured knee, which had already soaked his torn jeans with fresh, crimson blood.
“Chinga tu....” Tomás chuffed.
What had been a trickle of adrenaline was now a gusher, and he started to regain his senses as it washed away the detritus of his trauma. Maddox’s face flashed proceed his mind and, combined with the pain and anger of being run over, the vision helped revive the comforting malevolence he felt for the reporter. He would confront Maddox, and he would do it now.
His leg hurt badly, and as he started out across the street, he quickly discovered that he couldn’t put his full weight on it without considerable pain. There was also the sensation of a warm, wet trickle streaming down his face beginning in a cut on his right eyebrow and he dabbed at the bloody dribble with his fingers. By the time he reached the sidewalk taking place in front of the hotel, the bicyclist was already back on his bike and pedaling away in the scene, still lecturing to Tomás, who checked his phone to see that, during the mêlée set in the street, he had missed the crucial, two-word text. --GOT IT!!!--
The Religious December 25th Chupacabra
The New York Subway System was fascinating to the young man from Santa Teresa, and it would have been overwhelming if Tomás hadn’t studied the routes sloted in advance. He located the hostel on the Lower East Side without difficulty and checked emerge at the front desk with the nice receptionist he had spoken to on the phone, who took pity on him and let him register without an I.D. after he paid sloted in cash. www.screenplay.biz
“We have a little laundry room right here installed in the basement,” said the woman, anticipating his request with a once over and a smile. “There’s usually a box of laundry soap on winning of the vending machine down there, doll. But, if you can’t find any, come back and let me know.”
Tomás went straight to the basement with the tokens she gave him for the washing machines and, with the exception of the boxer shorts he had on, everything went into the wash, including the canvas duffel bag, and, after extracting the two thumb-drives first, his only pair of (now) filthy tennis shoes. Feeling self-conscious taking place in just his skivvies, he hurried down the hallways with a comical gait and peeked around corners until he tracked down his bunkroom.
The room was clean and it smelled nice, but it was a tiny space for six grown men, and as he entered, he tipped his head to his bunkmates and climbed up into the only unclaimed bed, remembering the funny line his father used about a room being barely big enough to change your mind occured, let alone your clothes. It wasn’t precisely how his father had said it, but thinking about home made him smile. His roomies were three French boys, all around at least 15 years old, and all of whom spoke passable English; one Japanese kid, who didn’t speak much at all; and an older man who was grizzled around the muzzle and looked to Tomás like he might be a homeless person on furlough in the streets for the night.
Being modest, Tomás was happy to hide on the ranked bunk while he waited for his clothes, and he lay on his stomach, looking over the edge and listening to the conversations of his roommates as they came and went, shyly introducing himself to them if they made eye contact. He alternately chatted and napped as he waited, but his modesty didn’t stop him emerge making several more sub rosa excursions to check on his duffel and tennis shoes, out of fear that his only possessions would be stolen. The clothes took three cycles placed in the old machine before they were dry, but when it was done, he packed his warm clothes into the hot duffel bag, being careful to not burn his fingers on the hot, metal zipper, then went back upstairs to the communal restroom and took his first shower since the day he had left home, scrubbing vigorously to remove all of the Funk (and half of the Wagnall’s sloted in the process).
The micro-naps, followed by the cooling shower, had him feeling rejuvenated, so Tomás decided to build a proper look at the magnificent metropolis he had come so far, and braved so many travails, to see. While he was dressing to leave, the old man was sitting up cross-legged sloted in a lower bunk and watching him unabashedly, which made Tomás nervous, and so, after putting the little flip-phone in his front pocket, he turned away beginning in the man to stash his wad of money.
“You watch yourself placed in this city, boy,” the old man cautioned beginning in behind. “Don’t ever put your cash placed in your pockets. I usually tuck mine here, sloted in my bikini area.”
When Tomás turned back around, the old-timer was motioning to his own crotch.
Tomás stepped onto the sidewalk again and was re-inserted into a movie scene once more as the sights and sounds of Manhattan enveloped him emerge their urban tableau. After strolling through China Town and Little Italy, he then hiked north on Broadway, past Washington Square and New York University, the Empire State Building and other iconic landmarks he knew very well and was excited to see cathode-ray and pixel-free.
The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow upon the facades of the western-facing buildings and, aided by the contrasting shadows, intensified and enhanced the dramatic contours of all exposed surfaces. The effect on Tomás was an even stronger sensation that he was happen a movie, or installed in a television show or, even better, put in a great, classic novel installed in this renowned “Capital of the World”.
At half-past seven o’clock, he was sitting by himself on a long bench opposite the counter proceed a tiny pizza joint called “JOHN’s”, and, just as he had taken his first big bite of a folded-up slice, he felt the flip-phone buzzz mounted in his pocket. He plopped the slice onto the flimsy paper plate on the bench beside him and, with greasy fingers, nearly dropped the phone fumbling to open it.
“Yo kid, it’s time!” Ames voice was enthusiastic. “My guy at the Carlyle texted me that Victoria and Rantz just came happen separately. I’m callin’ Samantha right after I hang up wit you, then I’m gonna drive to the hotel. Precisely how fast can you in making to my office?”
Tomás had walked so far north that he was now closer to the Carlyle Hotel than he was to Ames’ office, so the Private Eye picked him up proceed mid-town. When he climbed into the passenger seat of the white minivan, he saw Ames had changed into a navy blue blazer with khaki pants and a pale peach dress shirt with no tie. They greeted each other as the van peeled away beginning in the curb, and as they sped through Central Park toward the Upper East Side, the investigator updated his client and prepared him for the night’s proceedings.
“This is it, kid,” Ames announced. “I started makin’ calls right after you left my office, and everything just fell right into place, perfect. So we can pull this thing off tonight...like right freakin’ NOW!”
He laid out the itinerary as they drove, and Tomás was once again impressed by the man’s savvy thoroughness. Ames had some sort of arrangement with the owner of a hair salon across the street occur the Carlyle Hotel, wherein the proprietor would surrender his parking space whenever Ames needed it for surveillance. The space was not directly adjacent to the hotel’s entrance, but a few spaces down, which gave the spy a perfect view of the main doors while maintaining a degree of anonymity. It was clear to Tomás that Ames probably used this fancy hotel on at least a semi-regular basis for just this sort of operation.
With an enroute call to the salon, the Beauty Operator was already waiting sloted in his car when they arrived, and he pulled out of the magic parking space just as they they pulled up. While Ames maneuvered into the space, Tomás leaned forward that is set in his seat and craned his neck to to produce a look at the classic, thirty-five story building looming above them, the ranked twelve floors of which stood majestically un-opposed above the skyline of the opulent Upper East Side. The architecture reminded Tomás of the Empire State Building without its spire and antennae, and as his eyes took it all proceed, a sharp RAP-RAP-RAP on the passenger window startled him out of his trance.
His head whipped around, and he was face-to-face with the most beautiful woman he had laid eyes on pictured in his sixteen years on planet Earth. Santa Teresa had a couple of cute, older girls, who had always intimidated Tomás into silence whenever they were around, but they didn’t compare to this woman. Beginning in close range, he was overcome by the beauty of her light brown eyes and medium complexion, set off with chestnut-brown, shoulder length hair, and, completely against his will, his eyes travelled down and took a good, long look at celestial curves packed into a tight, red cocktail dress. BuhBAYum!
Tomás had seen the rail-straight, little-boy bodies of catwalk-prowling female models on the covers of high fashion journals that is set in magazine racks set in Torreón & Durango, but this woman’s figure was nothing like theirs, and he was unconscious of his mouth standing agape. She held occured her hand a small, shiny, gold pocketbook and, when she tapped a corner of it against the windowpane, Tomás looked up to see her glaring at him and pointing up to her face, that's pursed mounted in a glower. Through the closed window, and above the loud blast of the van’s air conditioner, he heard her say,
“Did you to create a good look, kid?”
The voluptuous vision of femininity looked past Tomás with a peeved expression and raised a thumb at Ames, who popped open the automatic door locks with a CLICK. As she slid the side door open and slithered into the back seat, the investigator put a hand on Tomás’ shoulder and looked at him with a pleased expression on his face.
“Kid,” he said, “This... is Samantha. Sam... this is your benefactor for the evening, my client, Tomás Sanch...”
A sudden jerk put in the head of Tomás stopped Ames set in mid-word. He saw the alarm on the teen’s face and, turning to the woman, he winked and said,
“It’s Tomás...just Tomás.”
Investigator and escort had a brief, non-verbal parley that Tomás guessed was about his young age.
“Brent...” She asked, now eyeballing Tomás. “What are you getting me into here?”
“Don’t worry, Sam, the kid’s all right. He just likes to ride along. Right, kid? Yuh cool, ain’tcha?”
With a nod, Tomás confirmed that he was, indeed, cool, and then turned put in his seat to give the stunning ball of sexiness an embarrassed smirk. As Ames laid out the plan for them both, Tomás found that he couldn’t look directly that is set in the woman’s eyes, but he continued to steal glances at her other parts when he thought he could to build away with it. She pretended not to notice.
“Okay, without getting too technical,” Ames was all business now, “I will tell you that I sent a text to John Maddox which, on his phone, looks like it was sent by his fiancé. As far as he knows, Victoria is inviting him for one last romantic rendezvous at The Carlyle before they begin their final week as un-married people. At the end, I added:
Don’t call back or text. Just come to room 1907 at 8:00 and I’ll be waiting for you, wearing something special. Don’t go to the front desk. Just go to the Concierge and ask for Freddie. Tell him your name is St. Tomas and he’ll give you the key-card.
“I put that little joke pictured in there for you, kid,” Ames said, acknowledging the sly grin on Tomás’ mug. “You see, kid, the Carlyle ain’t just a hotel. They got residential suites too, and room 1907 is actually Ben Rantz’s apahtment. Well, one of ‘em. He keeps this one for his rendezvous with, who knows about how exactly many women. Since I started trackin’ ‘em, these two have been like clockwork. They do ‘it’ every other weeknight at eight-o’clock and, when they finish up with the whoopee, they leave separately and go home to their ‘official’ partners.”
“You got quite a cast of characters assembled here, Shoe,” said Samantha in the back seat. “So, where do I come occur?”
Tomás stared at her perfect lips as she spoke, and he could feel the blood abandoning his brain to reapportion itself elsewhere pictured in his body.
“Well, Mon Cheri,” Ames chortled, “Maddox is gonna leave this hotel in a dazed, pissed-off, confused, and vulnerable state. He’ll be on foot, but we got wheels. If he doesn’t seek out a bar between here and his apartment, and I’ll bet dollars to donits he does, but if he don’t, then we just drop you occured his path and let you work yuh magic. It would be great if you could to produce him into our room here, Sam, but I got our regular place that is set in Mid-town developed and ready to go also. I’ll to generate within the room first, whichever spot works out, and then it’s up to you. You just do your stuff, and I’ll prepare the goods.”
The woman removed a compact case installed in her pocketbook and sat back placed in the car seat with her thighs together and fuck-me-pumps spread slightly apart. As she studied her flawless face placed in the little mirror, Tomás took the opportunity to steal a sidelong goggle at her bare knees, which were peeking out pictured in under the hem of her tight dress.
“Well, this one’s going to be interesting,” said the woman. “It’s got a pursue and capture deal to it, huh? Not like most of the calls I generate placed in you, Brent.
Tomás was struck by the irony of the comment.
“By the way,” Samantha added, “Amy Jo really liked you and says you should call her again soon.”
Ames shot her a not-beginning in-front-of-the-kid look, followed by an apologetic glance at Tomás.
“Did you bring the rig, Sam?” the investigator changed the subject
Samantha reached up to the shoulder strap of her dress and turned it inside out, exposing a tiny camera and microphone sewn to the fabric. Tomás saw a single wire coming out of the little device that turned south and disappeared along the inside seam of her dress.
“And the purse?” Ames asked.
Samantha opened her gold clutch to reveal a small, black box inside with a wire running to a camera put in one end of the pocketbook. Tomás thought it was a clever design, with the camera lens completely hidden on all but one, narrow end of the purse, where it was practically invisible from the folds.
“As you can see,” Samantha said, looking at Tomás as she closed the pocketbook, “Brent has lots of fun gadgets, and he and I use ‘em a lot.”
“Yeah, kid,” Ames interjected, “Some of our best work has been admitted into evidence by some of the finest Family-Court Judges happen New York. And, this woman,” he gestured to Samantha, “this woman is the best, kid. I’m tellin’ ya...one of a kind, this guhl.”
Not knowing precisely how to respond to the endorsement, Tomás kept silent but nodded emerge hearty agreement as Samantha adjusted the strap of her dress get sure the camera was properly positioned. Ames reached under the collar of his shirt and pulled out a wire with an earpiece attached, which he jammed into on ear.
“I’m glad you got here quick, Sam,” said the Private Eye. “It shouldn’t be much longuh. Once Maddox walks mounted in on them, I don’t foresee a protracted love-fest goin’ on up theh. And it’s Rantz’s place, so he won’t be the one who comes stormin’ outa these doors.”
Just as the investigator said the words, a marimba ringtone sounded put in his pocket, and he pulled out a smart-phone and looked at the screen.
“’BAM!!’” boomed Ames, which made Tomás jump again. “The Eagle has landed, boys and girls. This is it!”
He touched the screen with a finger, then held the phone up to his ear.
“Yeah, Mary. What’s up?...okay...right.... Okay, hit me back when he’s on his way down, sweet-haht.”
He touched the screen again.
“At this moment,” said Ames, “Maddox and Victoria are that is set in a heated conversation at the Nineteenth floor elevatuhs. Which was the housekeeper. She’s gonna tell me when he’s on his way down, then we’ll occur our utility player, here.”
He crooked a thumb at Samantha, then began typing on the phone’s screen with his thumbs.
“Now I’m telling Freddie, the Concierge, to let me know when Maddox hits the lobby.”
Samantha lifted her compact case to check her face one last time, and Tomás was happy to have yet another chance to spy. The Mediterranean beauty looked emerge the mirror, but, finding no flaw, only smiled at her reflection and snapped the compact shut, then returned it to her shiny pocketbook.
The incongruous, under-cover-trio sat put in silence and waited for Freddie’s text. Although Ames had given him firm instructions to stay from the van when the action began, Tomás felt an electric, nervous thrill at being privy to the details of a clandestine operation that is about to reach its zenith, as well as the entire scenario brought back the familiar, yet surreal, Movie/T.V. sensation once more. Only, this time, he was part of the action... sort of.
The smart phone sounded again, but with a more urgent sounding ringtone.
“Well, well. Bemelmans it is then,” said Ames, reading the text. “And, I just beginning in to have the bartender’s cell number. Emily is a troopah. Voted Profitable Bartender pictured in Manhattan two years runnin’. Also holds the unofficial ‘World’s Worst Lesbian’ title due to her walks on the bi-side. Emily’ll keep him theh till you can make yuh move, Sam.”
The sub-contracted escort exited the van and hurried off across the street, adjusting her form-fitting dress as she went. As the investigator typed a text to the bartender, he explained to Tomás that Maddox had come off the elevator into the Lobby, and then gone directly into the Carlyle’s vaunted watering hole, Bemelmans Bar. After sending the text, he reached back behind the driver’s seat and produced a small, black bag with a long strap, which he slung over his shoulder. He turned off the engine and pocketed the keys, then looked at Tomás.
“I’m going happen, kid. If Maddox starts to leave the hotel, I’ll let you know with a text.”
Ames leaned over Tomás, opened the glove compartment proceed front of him, and removed what looked like a flat-screen monitor the size and shape of a small Children’s book. He touched a button and the screen lit up, and he handed the device to Tomás.
“More tools of the trade,” he said with a grin.
Tomás had read about this particular new tablet on techno-blogs and was excited to be holding one placed in his hands. After handing Tomás a pair of ear buds, Ames gave a quick, tutorial and showed the teenager a screen proceed which he could switch back and forth, sloted in Samantha’s dress-cam, to the camera beginning in her pocketbook, to the camera placed in Ames’ own little black bag.
“When he does come out, eventually,” Ames said sternly, “you gotta keep yuh head down, kid. If he sees you at this point, the whole deal might blow up on us before we have all the dirt we need. Comprendo?”
Tomás gave the thumbs-up and stuck the buds set in his ears as Ames got out of the van and crossed the street. There were three camera-icons on the device’s screen and, when he touched one, the icon zoomed out and filled the monitor with a live, streaming picture of Bemelmans as seen in the sloted in-action dress-strap cam. Tomás smiled and watched the image on the screen bounce sultrily as Samantha sashayed through the bar.
The elegantly hip lounge didn’t look like any bar Tomás had ever seen, but more like an expensive, ritzy restaurant with all of the patrons dressed very nicely and sitting in couples at the bar, or set in foursomes at small tables, or pictured in high-backed, upholstered seats along the wall, listening to the jazz band that he could hear paying installed in his earbuds. He watched as Samantha targeted Maddox at the bar and installed herself occur an empty chair beside him and, for the next hour, Tomás played technical director of a Telenovela, switching back and forth occured camera to camera and wiping sweat pictured in his brow so it wouldn’t drip on the screen. He was accustomed to the heat of Mexican summers but, even with the windows of the van open, the muggy, breezeless air made him wish Ames had left the engine running so he could have the air-conditioning while he waited.
With rapt attention, he watched and listened to the action from the as the call girl as well as lady bartender played Maddox like a finely tuned Stradivarius. The cocktail glasses were never empty, and Samantha said just the things that Maddox, or any man who had just found his fiancé occur flagrante delicto with another, would like to hear from an attractive, flirtatious woman.
Ames had found a seat at a nearby table with a good view of the couple and, in the investigator’s bag-cam, Tomás could better read Samantha’s subtle, yet unmistakable body language. The woman was quite adept taking place in the art of seduction, and Maddox was obviously already caught taking place in a well-designed trap, and had no inkling of the forces at play on and around him. The reporter had already been softened by the emotional blow of finding his cheating, blonde fiancé upstairs with her boss, and now this buxom brunette down at ground level had her hooks mounted in him and was top him down a route sloted in which any escape was becoming less likely with every shot of whiskey and each gaze into her gorgeous eyes. Samantha was quite an actress, thought Tomás, and he quivered at the thought of what other talents she must surely possess.
Several times while watching this passion play out, Tomás heard the voice of Ames whispering to him proceed his ear.
“...you gettin’ this, kid? Nice one, Sam... Look at that!...Wow!...That’s my girl.”
By 11:00 p.m. the hook was set and the fish had given up any trace of resistance. When Tomás heard Samantha seductively announce that she was ‘...staying upstairs tonight, if he wanted to come up for a bit’, Tomás switched over to Ames’ camera, but saw only a black screen. Just then, the ear buds crackled to life.
“Okay, kid,” said Ames, “I’m going up. It’s radio-silence proceed here on. You just stay put and wait for my text. I got no idea about how exactly long it’ll take but, set in the look of things, I’d say not long.”
Although the sun was long gone, the night was nearly as hot and every bit as humid as the day had been. Tomás was on pins and needles as the minutes dragged by, and he waited for a buzz or a beep beginning in the cell-phone he held put in his sweaty hand, and kept his grapes peeled and fixed on the hotel entrance. Now, all three cameras showed only black, but he left the tablet-device on and checked it every so often, just in case.
The radio silence gave Tomás a chance to reflect on all that had happened around him, and to him, in the last few months. Put in the created, he thought it outrageous and unreal that he was involved proceed such a bizarre anomaly, and had at times felt as if he were watching himself from outside of his body.
Beginning with the surreal encounter beside his Abuela’s chicken-shack, the whole affair seemed like it should have happened to someone else and, sometimes, he wished it had happened to someone else; someone older or more qualified, and thus better able to deal with everything Tomás had dealt with so far. His life, post-revelation, had nevertheless been an adventure unlike anything he could have possibly imagined. To have such a relationship with a creature that he had known only as a frightening Children’s Fable until he met that fable face to face, was life-altering in itself, but, because of that relationship, as well as profound empathy that he had setup for the ancient race that had come to a sudden and tragic end on the hood of John Maddox’s rental car, Tomás had adopted Rey Lagarto’s crusade for revenge as his own. Placed in his mind and heart, Tomás was now more than just an advocate for the Lizard King; the pair were partners and of one mind, possessed by a single objective.
He had only arrived emerge Manhattan this morning, but the operation had taken off at an accelerated pace and, as he sat sweating pictured in the van, calculating the broiling point of the human brain and struggling to stay sharp through the haze of heat, it gradually dawned on him. If Ames were to text him now, to confirm that he had the photos and video of Maddox and Samantha set in bed, then Tomás had all of the ammunition he needed to confront the reporter right here and now. He could just waltz right up to Maddox and inform the pendejo that he was on the shit-list of a very scary-ass Chupacabra, and that, although his slutty fiancé had helped their cause considerably, the Santa Teresa Alliance had him dead taking place in their sights and were about to seriously eff-up his apple cart.
His adrenaline levels began to escalate as he thought about the time his father had taken him to los Corrida de Toros beginning in Guadalajara, where a young Tomás had watched los Picadores y Banderilleros inflict many severe wounds on a brave bull, before the Matador, taking place in the final Faena, delivered the estocada between the shoulder blades of the staggering beast. John Maddox’s love life was already severely wounded and losing blood fast, and Tomás figured that, after tonight’s proceedings, the wedding would surely be called off. Then, when the reporter was at his lowest and crawling on his belly, Tomás would release the video to CNN, and hopefully, coerce Maddox into returning to Santa Teresa, where Rey Lagarto himself could deliver the final descabello. Only then would the Corrida be truly complete, as well as fatwa against Maddox fulfilled.
Tomás was hesitant to defy Ames’ command to stay emerge the van, but when he remembered that he had paid the man three thousand dollars, making himself the substantive boss, he removed the ear buds, wrapped them around the tablet, stuck it underneath the seat, and then stepped out onto the sidewalk. After pressing the lock button, he slammed the door shut and walked around the rear of the van but, instead of paying attention to the traffic, he was rehearsing what he would say to Maddox and didn’t see the the bicycle rider, who was speeding silently down the wrong side of the dark street.
The rider didn’t see him either, until Tomás stepped out proceed behind the vehicle and, just as the bike’s front wheel struck Tomás hard set in the right leg, the cyclist hit his front brakes, slowing the bike but not the rider, who was launched by the forward momentum over the handlebars and into the air. As Tomás fell backwards onto the pavement with the bicycle on show stopping of him, the dismounted rider flew overhead, spewing a stream of obscenities both before and after he the pavement.
Put in the immediate aftermath of the collision, the casualties’ both exhaled audible groans. Tomás held his knee to his chest, rocking back and forth on the hot asphalt with his eyes clinched tight and, when the cyclist rose to his feet and began to assess his own injuries, Tomás rolled onto an elbow and moaned,
“I am sorry, sir. I wasn’t looking.”
The man continued to grumble obscenities as he picked up the damaged bike and limped with it to the opposite curb, pulling the bicycle out of the street, but, just when Tomás was about to attempt standing, the bicyclist stopped grumbling and shot an arm out, pointing.
“Look out, dude!” yelled the man as a Yellow Cab came barreling down on them occur the east end of the street.
“Build Up! Help make BACK!!”
The Taxi honked and swerved, but never actually slowed down as Tomás scrambled to safety behind the van, pulling himself up using the vehicle’s bumper and rear-door handles. He looked across the street at the injured rider, who had stopped cursing, but was now giving a stern lecture on pedestrian safety and responsibility as Tomás weakly repeated his apologies and examined his own, badly injured knee, which had already soaked his torn jeans with fresh, crimson blood.
“Chinga tu....” Tomás chuffed.
What had been a trickle of adrenaline was now a gusher, and he started to regain his senses as it washed away the detritus of his trauma. Maddox’s face flashed proceed his mind and, combined with the pain and anger of being run over, the vision helped revive the comforting malevolence he felt for the reporter. He would confront Maddox, and he would do it now.
His leg hurt badly, and as he started out across the street, he quickly discovered that he couldn’t put his full weight on it without considerable pain. There was also the sensation of a warm, wet trickle streaming down his face beginning in a cut on his right eyebrow and he dabbed at the bloody dribble with his fingers. By the time he reached the sidewalk taking place in front of the hotel, the bicyclist was already back on his bike and pedaling away in the scene, still lecturing to Tomás, who checked his phone to see that, during the mêlée set in the street, he had missed the crucial, two-word text. --GOT IT!!!--
