The Gamble

Ricardo came out of the spare bedroom and met David in the living room. “Todo está listo. Be cool until seven this evening, and you’ll be a happy man. Just remember, don’t answer the door until seven this evening. ¿Entiendes mano?”

David nodded, even as little beads of sweat formed on his forehead. “Sí, entiendo.” He put on a brave front. He saw Ricardo reach for the front door and said, “Nos vemos a las siete,” as Ricardo stepped through the door.

David shut the door quickly and locked it. His heart was beating fast, and he tried to catch his breath. He pushed his back against the door as if it would give him added protection. He walked to the couch, reached for his coffee, and plopped down on the sofa. He sighed deeply. His heart still raced. He put the cup on the table and noticed his trembling hands. He felt fidgety and walked around the living room. He stopped when he saw his reflection in the mirror from across the room. “Well, there’s no turning back now, boy,” he said out loud. He shook his head and had a shitty frown on his face.

David was on the clock. All he had to do was chill out for thirteen hours, not get raided, and he’d make twenty thousand dollars. It sounds like easy money until one thinks of the consequences of getting arrested for holding forty pounds of cocaine in your attic. David refilled his coffee and opened the curtains so he could see outside. He could see across the street and all the way down the main drag. His street was the last one in the section, so when cars came down the street, the only choice was a left- or right-hand turn, unless it was the Garcia family, who rented the whole row of houses at the end—they had a private driveway and drove straight through. David mockingly laughed at his perceived ingenuity because even if he had a better view of the cars coming down the street, it wouldn’t give him any advantage if law enforcement was coming for the drug stash. He sat back on the sofa, reached for his weed tray, picked up a joint, lit it, and inhaled. He blew out the smoke, and a greyish cloud appeared. He lit an Indica joint because he needed to calm himself. David was scared, so he put the television on for distraction but muted the volume so he could hear any noise around the house. He was still nervous and a little paranoid, so he took another drag. He stopped after his fourth hit and stood up so he could see himself in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, and he had the “Chino” look, the droopy eyes that stoners knew so well. The weed helped to calm him. He looked at the television, then up at the clock. It read six thirty-four in the morning. If all went well, he’d be a happy young man at seven this evening. Then he could build his life; no more fucking around. He was tired of seeing the pained look on his mother, the sad eyes on his tired father, and his girlfriend’s worried looks.

# # #

David was asleep when a call from his mother woke him. He lazily reached for the phone and answered. “Hello.”

“Chingado, I was hoping to get your voicemail because that would have meant you were working. ¿Cuándo mijo, cuándo? You’re not thirteen anymore, ya eres hombre,” she reminded.

“They’ve been slow this week, Amá.” He got up from the couch. “They’ll call me when they get busy.”

“Pues, ¿qué haces? ¿Por qué todavía estabas dormido?

“Amá, I already told you.”

“Do you know why you’re home still sleeping at almost eleven? ¿Por qué eres huevón, mijo. I love you my son, pero, we all know you’re not the fastest worker, and those are always the first ones to get laid off. When are you going to learn, mijito?”

“Amá, por favor. Y a sé, ya sé. You don’t need to say the same shit to me because I always hear the same shit, verbatim. Give it a break, Amá.”

“Pues, at least get your ass up, wash your face y lávate los dientes, ¡no seas sucio!”

“Okay, Amá. Bye.” He put his cell phone down and shook his head at the conversation he’d just had. He reached for the ashtray and pulled out the half-smoked joint and lit it with his silver Zippo. He was stoned again. He looked at the clock and it read eleven in the morning. David was down to eight hours until paydirt—unless he got busted. With the nagging from his mother still in his head, he started to think of what he’d do with all his money. He'd give some to his mother, pay some bills, but the rest would be for him, and a devilish smile crept onto his face. The way he saw it , he was the one taking all the risks, so he believed he was entitled to live it up.

David’s phone rang. It was his girlfriend, and he picked up. “Hi Chula!”

“Hey, what are you doing?” asked twenty-two-year-old Gabby Galvez, a college sophomore close to transferring to a four-year university. “No work today?”

“What, why would you call if you thought I was at work? You’re like my mom.”

There was silence on the phone, and then Gabriela cleared her throat. “David, please don’t ever compare me to your mother, ever!”

“Okay Gabs, but she just called like five minutes ago, giving me the same shit. But enough of that, how are you?” David took another hit from the joint.

“I just finished my classes for the day, you want me to get you something for lunch.

David smiled, took another hit from the joint, held it in for five seconds, and then exhaled a blue cloud of smoke. “How about The Hat? A pastrami, fries, large drink?” he suggested. He hoped Gabby would agree.

“Okay, I’ll get lunch there but do me a favor. Clean the fucking toilet so it doesn’t smell like pee—you and your roomies are ghetto nasty.”

David smiled. “Okay, I’ll clean it for you babe. And hey, please get a shitload of mustard and ketchup, por fa.”

# # #

Gabby got to David’s house at twenty till noon. They had a good lunch and shared fries. The sandwich was superb. The pastrami was sliced razor-thin. The Hat was known for their generous portions. Gabby talked about her classes and her impending transfer as they held hands and enjoyed their time together. Every time David heard about her plans, he felt sad for himself but happy for her. She was the best person he’d ever been with, and she had a glow that gave off good energy. David couldn’t understand it but he was happy to be part of it. At twenty-two, he felt young to have already been blessed to have someone as special at Gabriela Galvez. She was smart, beautiful, and selfless—in his mind he had won the trifecta. After lunch, David cleared the table and looked up at the clock. “So, like do we have time to have…” he hesitated, “So, like, you want to have relations?” he finally spit it out. He used the term relations to make Gabby laugh but also hoped it would be to his advantage.

“David, ¿qué te pasa? We just ate.” She looked on the bookshelf and saw his stash. “Ah, I see, my baby’s been getting stoned all day, and now he’s a bit chiludo. Too bad, te tienes que esperar because I have a study group at the college at two thirty.” She reached for the joint and took a hit. “So, you want to come with me, to the college? You can hang out at the library ‘til I’m done.” She passed the joint back to David.

“No, I have to stay here, I’m waiting for an important package.”

“Oh, so now that your belly’s full, you’re going to just get stoned the whole day. David, what are you doing? You’re better than this. Come on, babe. We’re a perfect fit together, but you have start pulling your weight. Do you know how much grief I get from my girlfriends because of you?” She took the joint from David, took a hit, then passed it back.

David looked at her and nodded his head. He took a drag and emitted another bluish cloud into the sala. “I know it doesn’t look good, but I’m working on it, trust me, no lies, mi amor. You’re going to see.”

They finished the joint then relaxed on the couch and got as intimate as Gabby would let him, which unfortunately for David, was nothing more than making out and some light petting. Soon Gabby’s ride to the study session was outside. They kissed goodbye and then David Durango was alone again. It was two twenty in the afternoon—some five hours and forty minutes until David’s dreams could begin to materialize.

# # #

David catnapped but was awoken by a hard bang on the security door. In his marijuana and sleep stupor, he lurched off the sofa, tumbled towards the door, and opened it, forgetting what was hidden in his attic. “Department of Water and Power. We’re informing you that water will be cut off in your area for the next four hours.” The worker handed David the notice.

“Ah, thank you.” David was still trying to wake up. He looked out the window and observed a local cable truck parked while the cable guys worked in the area. But now David remembered the warning about not opening the door to anyone until seven in the evening. Then the paranoia set in. He looked out, trying to see if those workers were real, or if this was the start of the raid on his home. A chill began at the small of his back and traveled up his spine—he was terrified. He looked out the back window and there was activity in the neighbor’s yard. Was it their gardener, or was it law enforcement? David’s heart began to race. He looked up at the clock—it read four forty-five in the afternoon. He hoped he could holdout for another two hours and fifteen minutes. He had planned to spend the rest of the day thinking about all the things he’d buy, but now he was spooked. He had to concentrate on his breathing to avoid hyperventilating. He crouched down like a baseball catcher and took some deep breaths. After his breathing slowed, he walked back to the couch, reached for another joint and lit it. He wanted to be calm, and he tried to talk himself into that state, but it was a challenge. He was now so close to making his stake. He prayed to God that he would not be arrested. All those things he was selfishly looking to buy, like a new phone, car add ons, and maybe a trip to Vegas were now out. That’s what fear will do to a person when reality sets in. That look Gabby gave him about making something out of himself, he knew he needed to follow through on that, or the best thing in his life would be gone. Who could blame her? She was busting her ass in college and holding down a part time job, while he waked and baked all day. It was not conducive to the relationship he wanted, nor one Gabby deserved.

The cable company finally finished their work in the neighborhood at five thirty, and that calmed David for a while, but at six twenty, there was another knock on the door. David’s heart felt like it was going to burst. He could feel the blood pumping from both sides of his neck; he felt hot, like when a person blushes. He took a deep breath, said a silent prayer, and opened the door slowly, but no one was at the door, only a package that had been left on the doorstep. David sighed deeply, quickly opened the security door, and retrieved the package. It was now six thirty—only thirty minutes and it would be all over.

At six forty-eight, David heard a siren that kept getting louder. He looked out the window and saw a police car round the corner. David saw this, and his eyes started to water as tears ran down his face. “Fuck! Fuck! What the fuck did I do? Pinche pendejo.” He yelled to himself, then began to beat his chest with his fists, angry at the decisions he’d made. He opened the door to face the consequences of his mamadas, but instead, he saw an ambulance turn right, then parked directly across the street from David. They were not here to arrest him—it was Old Man Johnson having another heart attack. It took at least five minutes for David’s breathing to return to normal, but that calmness was short-lived. He sat on the sofa. It was ten after seven. He felt the stress return to him as he wondered what the hell was happening. He thought he’d be out of danger by now, but it was almost seven thirty and still nothing, only extra time for him to get pinched. He was pissed but tried to figure out what to do. He looked out the window and saw Old Man Johnson being wheeled out on a gurney. After about five minutes, the commotion across the street subsided. All David could do now was wait.

At seven fifty there was a knock at the door, but before opening it, David looked out the window and didn’t see any police activity in the area. He then opened the door. It was Ricardo.

“What the fuck, man, do you know how to tell time?”

“Tranquilo, David, tuve que esperar todo ese pedo con la ambulancia y la chota, pero todo está bien. Wait here for a moment.” Ricardo disappeared upstairs for five minutes before coming back into view carrying a heavy blue duffle bag over his left shoulder. Here’s your lana, y muchas gracias.” Ricardo handed David a thick yellow envelope with his money, and closed the door behind him.

David stared at the money. There were two bundles of hundred-dollar bills that were stacked, both about an inch thick. He used his thumbnails to flick the bills as if he were shuffling playing cards. David’s eyes were as big as saucers, and he was mesmerized by the money, the sight of it, the touch, and the smell. He looked at the envelope and smiled. Now that he had his money, he could keep his promise to Gabriela and show her he was a good man that she could be proud of.

# # #

David closed the front gate, walked up the steps, and opened the door. “Hey, I’m home, ¿qué haces?” He made a beeline to kiss Gabby in the hallway.

“Hey chulo, how was your day?” She returned his kiss.

“Let’s just say I’m glad it’s Friday—but look at this!” He pulled out an award as the top student at his trade school.

“Mira nada más, what did I tell you? See, I always believed in you, and you kept your word.” David looked at Gabby and smiled. He recalled that look long ago, where she nudged him to get serious about his life. “Come on babe, let’s go celebrate.” She pointed towards their bedroom and seductively raised her eyebrows. With a big smile, she picked up a freshly rolled joint, grabbed a lighter, grabbed David’s hand, and then they disappeared into their bedroom.