SELENELION

6. Vinny

Friday had come in the blink of an eye. The drive to Buffalo went smoothly, the older woman on border patrol was laughing at whatever Romero was telling her and let us through right away, believing we're just here to shop and party. My nerves were a wreck, I knew this would be the easy part. Pulling up to the location Marco gave us, we arrive at a beat down apartment on top of a convenience store. "If their shit's so good, why are they living in this dump?" Rom asks. We walk up the back metal stairs, knocking on the white door at the top. A dog barks loudly and a moment later the door unlatches. A tanned woman with a scowl on her face scans us. Romero speaks to her in Spanish, "Hola girasol, están listas mis delicias?" ("Hey sunflower, are my goodies ready?") She rolls her eyes and opens the door fully, stepping back to let us in. The place is small, with one beat down sofa, a small tv and coffee table and cracked dry wall all around. The entire place reeks of cigarettes and her black pit-bull is chained to the wall, barking the whole time. This place is too small for a dog to be living here. She walks into another room and comes out a second later, plopping a white bag onto the kitchen counter. "Ya está aquí, si vas a probarlo date prisa." ("It's here, if you're going to try it, hurry up.") Romero smiles at her, "Confío en ti cariño." ("I trust you darling.") He takes a black box out of his bag and places it on the counter as well. "Para ti. Si vas a contarlo, date prisa." ("For you. If you're going to count it, hurry up.") She raises an eyebrow at him, "No confio en ti querido." ("I don't trust you dear.") She begins counting the money and then clicks her tongue. Speaking in English now she says, "What is this? You're short a few thousand." My jaw immediately tenses. "C'mon darling, we both know this shit's not worth a few more thousand. Why are you gonna bust my balls after I came all this way?" She crosses her arms over her chest but Romero doesn't budge, staring her down with a playful smirk on his face. "Chino." She yells to someone in the other room and a second later a short man with a shaved head and a giant nazi tattoo on his chest walks out. I'm on edge, waiting for something to go wrong. The gun we picked up from Marco's guy after crossing the border was burning a hole through my pants. I knew if it came down to it, I would shoot both of them without a second thought. "Is there a problem?" He asks in a thick accent. "No problem, we brought the amount you asked for." Romero says calmly. "You didn't hear her? You're short." Fuck this, I take a step forward, irritated that they think they can play us, change the rules last minute. I knew I wouldn't like Marco's connection, I was right. The man eyes me slowly, stiffening. Romero sighs in mock disapproval, reaching into his bag and pulling out a few thousand. "That's all I brought. Must be the best shit out there for this price." "It's the best." The man says, and puts an arm around the girl. "Good. I like to fuck, I don't like getting fucked." Rom warns, his humorous demeanor disappearing. There's tension in the air but the Nazi breaks the silence, "You'll want more. Trust me." Rom grabs the bag off the counter and stuffs it into his black duffel bag. "Til next time." He says, winking at the girl before turning to leave. What a life I think, as I stare at the woman and their dog. I'm reminded of Serafina. Her life may seem more glamorized, but it's all the same shit.

After disposing the gun, we stop at Marco's mechanic on the way back and he loads up the Fentanyl under the bottom of the car, covering it back up in less than half an hour. I grit my teeth, never did I want my car to be used like this. The car my mom takes to work. Fucking Marco.

When we're lining up to cross the border to Niagara Falls, my nerves are out full force. I'm gripping the steering wheel and can feel the sweat on my forehead. There's a middle aged man working now, he asks for our passports. Asks if we're bringing anything back. I nod and point to the bag of shoes in the back. "New air forces. They weren't easy to find." The man nods, "My son has so many, all his money is spent on shoes. He's worse than my wife." He laughs, handing us back the passports and just like that, we're on our way home. I finally let myself breathe. When we've crossed the bridge, Romero pats my back and starts laughing like a maniac. "Holy fuck, I need a cigarette." He hands me one but I don't take it. "Was that Marco's guy on patrol?" I ask. "Supposed to be." Rom says. It didn't seem like he was, but it had been too easy. Seems everyone has their role to play. "I'm not doing that again." I tell Romero, making sure he hears me. He says nothing.