“Hey, you’re losing your touch.” Honesto edged closer. “Let me try.”
“Find your own machine,” Andre replied. “Yuh may be my friend, but there’s no way I’m sharing this cash cow with yuh!” He fed the machine again. The machine hummed like a blender, followed by clattering coins just as the waitress returned with Honesto’s beer.
Honesto reached into the winnings for her tip. “Timing is everything!”
“I need another pot,” Andre bragged. “Go get me another pot. This baby is set to pay.” While Honesto went to the cashier’s cage for the container, Andre dropped more coins into the slot. The reels raced, then stopped abruptly — three cherries on the pay line, more jangling in the tray.
“Thanks,” Andre said, taking the plastic container from Honesto and scooping up the coins. “Stay here and keep my place. Whatever you do, don’t give up my machine. I’ll be right back.” He drained his Carib.
“Hey, man, can I play with your money while you’re gone?”
“Use yuh own money,” Andre retorted, standing the empty bottle sentry-like behind the plastic pots.
“I’m broke.”
“What the hell yuh mean yuh broke? Is payday!”
“You know I send my money home to the Philippines on Friday. Hey, you don’t want to chance letting her get cold while you’re gone, do you?”
“Okay,” Andre laughed. “Just don’t get too attached.” He turned to leave and then stopped. “But what if yuh win with my money?”
“It’s yours,” Honesto said.
“No, no, that’s not fair,” Andre protested. “If yuh pull the arm and win, the money’s part yours.”
“But it’s your money and your machine.”
“Hear what. If yuh win, we go split it, 50–50. How that sounding?”
“You sure?” Honesto asked.
“Yeah. Keep she warm!” Andre grinned. He turned and headed for the washroom, maneuvering among throngs clustered around the slots and tables, drinking beers while waiting for a machine.
“Good evening, good evening, Mr. Persad,” beamed the manager. “How is everything tonight?”
“Real good,” Andre grinned. “Just don’t go resetting my machine before I come back!” They both laughed.
When Andre returned from the washroom, an annoying bell was clamoring like a car alarm. Then he realized that the flashing amber light was above his machine.
“Yes, yes! Honesto! We win!” he shouted, craning to see the face of the machine through the crowd that surrounded Honesto. He caught a glimpse of the manager conferring with Honesto. The manager straightened and worked his way through the crowd past Andre. “How much is the jackpot?” Andre asked.
“Twelve thousand dollars.”
“All right, man!” Andre yelled. He shouldered his way to the machine. Three magenta sevens crossed the pay line. “Hey, Honesto!”
Honesto stopped scooping coins into the plastic container. He jumped up and hugged Andre. “Jackpot!” he beamed, pointing to the screen.
“I knew this machine was going to pay big!” Andre crowed.
“Twelve thousand dollars! I calling Mary.”
While Andre was on his mobile with his wife, the manager returned and handed Honesto a check. He shook Honesto’s hand then left. Andre pressed off and shoved his cell in his pocket. He rubbed his hands in anticipation.
“Lemme see that beautiful piece of paper.” Honesto handed him the check. “Hey,” Andre stared. “This check is only in your name.”
Honesto shrugged. “The manager said they only put one name on it.”
“So let we change it now and split it,” Andre said.
“They don’t pay out that kind of cash,” Honesto explained. “That’s why he gave me the check. Monday on my lunch hour I’ll go to my bank and cash it. I’ll give you your half when you pick me up after work.”
“Okay,” Andre answered. “But I really wanted to go home and throw money all over Mary.” They laughed and finished gathering up the coins. On their way to the cashier’s cage, they passed their cocktail waitress. Andre tilted one of the brimming containers above her tray. “Is good luck to share the wealth,” he grinned.
The cashier handed Andre over three hundred dollars for the coins. “We hafta celebrate, Honesto. Where yuh want to go?”
Honesto paused. “Now that’s a tough one — seeing as we can go anywhere we want!”
On Monday, after collecting his boys from school, Andre headed for the San Juan SuperPharm to pick up Honesto. He hated traveling in Port-of-Spain at eight in the morning and three in the afternoon because that was when parents were delivering or retrieving their school-age children. Parents refused to risk possible kidnapping by letting their children travel. Soon the rainy season, with its intermittent downpours, would increase the congestion.
When he finally reached the pharmacy, it was after four. Honesto was not outside. He never waited in the tropical sun if Andre was late.
Andre turned to Brandon and Adam. “Allyuh wait here. Don’t touch nothing. I’m coming back just now. After I drop off Honesto,” he added, “I go carry allyuh to MovieTowne in the arcade and we go celebrate.” He disappeared inside the pharmacy. Soon he and Honesto emerged.
“Hi, guys.” Honesto nodded to the boys as he got into the front seat. They smiled back.
Andre slid behind the wheel and turned expectantly to Honesto. “So where my money, boy?” he asked with a smile.
Honesto looked down. “Sorry, Andre.”
Andre stared. “What yuh mean, ‘Sorry’?”
“We were really busy today, Monday and all. I didn’t have time to go to the bank.” Honesto looked up. “But I will tomorrow. I promise.”
Andre was silent. He felt a sick churning in his stomach. “I hope yuh not lying to me.”
“Of course not,” Honesto said quickly.
Maybe too quickly, Andre thought. “Because I really counting on that money,” he continued slowly. “Where Mary working, they closing down by the end of the month, and I have to keep up the installment on this car.” He paused. “And yuh know long time we putting off Brandon operation.”
“Don’t worry. I was just busy,” Honesto assured him. “I’ll cash it tomorrow.” They rode in silence for a while, and then exchanged small talk until they reached Honesto’s apartment.
“So I go pick yuh up after work again tomorrow?” Andre asked.
Honesto handed him the fare. “Yeah. Four o’clock at the pharmacy.”
But the next day Honesto was not there. The clerk told Andre it was Honesto’s day off.
“He tell me to pick him up here this afternoon,” Andre insisted.
“One of you must have made a mistake,” the clerk shrugged.
Andre left. He sat in his car dumbfounded. Then he pulled out his cell and dialed Honesto’s number. The phone rang and rang. No one answered, not even voice mail.
“Yuh sonofabitch,” Andre said softly. His jaw set as he started up the car and headed for Honesto’s. How he could stiff me like that? For months I chauffeur him and his friends wherever they want to go, give him priority over my other customers. I invite him to my house for Christmas, not just because he was alone and far from his own family, but because I like him. Mary and the boys and me, we even organize that birthday party for him and invite all the Filipinos. “That sonofabitch,” Andre repeated as he swung onto Jerningham Avenue.
A few cars were parked outside Honesto’s whitewashed, two-story apartment building. Andre pulled into visitor parking, got out, and strode to Honesto’s door. He pounded on the painted metal, then stepped aside so he could not be seen through the peephole. He waited. There was no sound from within. Further down, someone was blasting Machel Montano’s “One More Time.” Andre banged on Honesto’s door again. He in there, all right. He just too coward to face me.