In his room, looking outside at the delicatessen’s neon sign across the street, Kip decided not to ask for an additional loan from his wife. The five hundred dollars that her family owed him would be enough. Rudy would hopefully get about a grand together by Saturday. That would only make him five hundred short and he should be able to raise that before he left.
The phone rang. He looked at it, and after the second ring, he bet himself five hundred dollars that it would be a woman calling. Then he picked it up.
“Hello?”
“How much did you come up with?” It was Rudy.
“I had five hundred, but I just lost it,” he said jokingly. “I thought you were my wife.”
“Say what?” Rudy sounded as if he were in a hurry.
Kip looked at his watch; it was 1:30 a.m. How in the hell was he going to call his wife’s people at 1:30 in the morning? “Sorry, I was just thinking out loud. I made a bet with myself, and I lost.”
“Well, anyway, all I could come up with was a grand.”
Kip did not know what to say but, “Talaga? All right!” and breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Rudy. You’ll get it when I come back from Alaska in the next month or two. You’ll get all your money back. Pare, that was pretty fast. You could come up with a quick thousand, just like that, you son of a bitch? I thought it would take you till at least tomorrow night.”
“I caught them at the right time,” said Rudy. “I got ’em running when they should have been fightin’, and fightin’ when they should have been running. Walang marupok na baging sa magaling maglambitin, right? Isn’t that what you use to tell me?”
“That’s right. There’s no brittle vine for the person who knows how to swing.”
Rudy’s voice suddenly faded away from the receiver. “Good night, gentlemen. And remember, ride her on your way home.” Kip could hear some weak laughter in the background.
“Don’t tell me you played some cards.”
“Yeah, tourists. They wanted to play. So I obliged. I closed the bar right after you left. Slow anyway.”
“Same ones you were talking to when I was there, those tourists?”
“I don’t remember.” After a pause, Rudy asked, “How much did ya get?”
“I’m just going out to get the five hundred from my wife’s family right now.”
“Pal, I’m holding onto this money till the day you leave.”
“But I got to pay for the tickets before that,” Kip pleaded.
“Then get your ticket from that five hundred. I’ll hang onto this till I drop you off at the airport.”
“Thanks, Rudy. You’re all right.”
“I’ve spent money on worse things. But right after Alaska—”
“I’ll pay the whole thing right here.”
“Right where is that?”
“I mean right there, at Blanco’s.”
“Okay.”
“Thanks,” said Kip again, and hung up.
It was drizzling the next evening when he drove up into the the lamp-lighted hills of Pacific Heights where his wife’s people lived, one of their houses, anyway. After parking his car, he crossed the street under a billowing lamp whose beam fought fiercely to ward off the uneven mist surrounding it.
He did not stay long at the house. A few hellos and goodbyes and very-good-working-with-you and all that, and by the time he walked out of the house, everybody was happy. He had taken his last five hundred from her.
When he entered Blanco’s, he embraced Rudy. “I got the five hundred,” he said softly, and discreetly showed his friend the roll of bills.
“Terrific,” Rudy replied quickly, covering the wad and pushing it away at the same time. He headed for the back, while Kip moved toward his usual place at the counter. There were two white men near the barstool as Kip sat down. He couldn’t remember whether or not they were the same men who had been there the night before. Immediately, however, they started harassing Kip. Of all the times in the world, Kip said to himself. Of all the times in my life, these clowns gotta show up now. So he tried to ignore them.
There were some people like that, Kip thought, hasslers, not necessarily hustlers, just hasslers. If you ignored them or got aggressive with them, they stopped or moved on to their next victim. But tonight, somehow, it seemed that these two just did not, could not, leave Kip Benito alone. When he couldn’t take any more of it, he started to leave. He left his unfinished beer on the counter and walked out the door, signaling Rudy goodbye. The two quickly followed.
Less than ten seconds had passed when the people in Blanco’s all heard a violent scream outside. In a flash, Kip Benito came running back into Blanco’s, the two white men close on his heels, across the floor, around and behind the counter, and, within seconds, back again into full view, rushing back out into the street. Everyone at Blanco’s hurried out after Kip, who now had a wide metal knife tucked along his forearm, blade pointing straight up but mostly hidden. For a moment, the night swallowed the three men. They seemed to have completely disappeared. But only for a moment. The fighters emerged into the blinking neon light as one solid mass of heaving and weaving, with bursts of grunts and groans. The rush of onlookers slowed down when they saw all three slump over and fall to the ground. Then, only one got up. Kip Benito. Rudy dashed forward, but he was too late. The deed was done. Just a fraction of a moment and people’s lives are changed forever. Yet Rudy didn’t have much time to dwell on this thought. He saw Kip Benito leaning against the alley wall, bloody, clothes tattered, disheveled. He was gripping something tightly in his left fist. From his right hand, with a weakening hold, dangled the sharp blade. The other two men lay motionless in a pool of moonlight beneath the streetlamps of the city.
“They tried to rob me, Rudy,” Kip explained. “Thought I was drunk and tried to rob me. But this is not just about money, Rudy. You know that.” He stuck out his left hand — rolls of bills began to unfold from his grip.
“I know that, champ,” Rudy said as he scooped up all the money that sprung from Kip’s fist. Rudy felt the crowd gathering behind him.
Kip quickly turned and sliced the blade across his own forearms, shoulders, and thighs. When Rudy looked back to check the crowd, he couldn’t tell whether or not they had seen Kip cut himself.
“They tried to rob me!” Kip repeated to the stunned audience. “They tried to kill me!” He looked around slowly and menacingly, seeming to absorb everyone’s features. Then he said, as if spitting out a piece of phlegm, “No one saw what happened tonight. No one. I will remember all of you.” Then he fled into the night.
Kip Benito was going to Alaska that summer for the salmon canning season in Bristol Bay, anyway. He was just leaving a little sooner than planned.
It was during the afternoon of the next day, just before work, that Rudy decided to go see Nena at the International Hotel. He parked his car in the small employee lot of Blanco’s and walked over. The sky was overcast, gray and drizzly, and the news he was about to bring Nena was no different. Rudy was the only person other than Kip who knew about Nena staying in this place.
“He’s going to Alaska, and from there to Seattle. Too hot here, if you know what I mean. He gave me some money for you.” Rudy handed her an envelope and a note: Come to Seattle. After Alaska, I’ll meet you there. We will renew our sumpaan there, our vow. Write me. Alaska Packers Assoc., South Naknek, Alaska.
“You are still my guardian angel, Rudy,” Nena said in Filipino. “Maraming salamat, kuya. I don’t know what else to... what we could have done without...”