Paul was driving across the desert while smoking compulsively. He looked at Paul and asked:
- Never got the time to thank you for helping me out, even though you didn't even know me.
- Don't get sentimental on me man. I might of not known who you where, but I know where you came from.
- Speaking of that, I'm fucked. I can't keep running, I need an I.D.. I have to do some traveling.
- I might know a guy in Vegas that could help.
After a few hours driving in the desert, MeXico stopped the Grand. Opened the bonnet and started checking the motor. He stepped out and headed for the boot. He counted the money, it took a long half hour:
-MeXico? Where are you?
- I'm here man.
Paul came out from under the Grand.
- So what is the problem?
- The age and mileage are smashing this bugger...
- Let me tell you that this car is fucking great man.
- One day this Jeep will go down with me. Anyways how much money do we have?
- We've got 6 million each. You fucking planned this nicely. So, I think that you should get one million of mine, for all you wasted on the planning and for the loan.
- Ahhh, fuck that, consider it an offer. Come on, let's get going. I want to have a nice supper in Vegas.
Paul drove along the desert trails and picked up his mobile phone. Dialed the number and started speaking.
- Good afternoon... My name is Paul MeXico, I would like to book two Presidential Suites in the hotel, a dinner for 9 p.m.... No, not romantic. Yes. Cash, upon arrival. I would also like a tailor in the suites and full packed fridges. Ok, thank you, good day.
-Fuck, you know how to treat yourself. Who did you phone?
- The Venetian.
- Humm. Cool.
They strolled along and entered Las Vegas. The city was a mirage in the middle of the Nevada desert. It was much bigger, dirtier and shiny.
- They checked in, stepped in the elevators to the last floor. At 9 p.m. they had a nice supper with some exquisite champagne.
Paul drew another mobile phone, dialed the number and waited for the answer.
- Hi, Vinny, how are you man? Haha, a rattle snake in the desert. Listen, I have a big friend that needs an I.D.. What? Fuck man, I don't have a week, I need it tonight. Oh, come on man? You owe me big time man, remember Tunisia? I fucking saved you fat Chinese ass... Ok then, 1 a.m. at the Witch road.
He finished the call and spoke to him:
- So, ready to go out to the desert once again?
- Can you get the I.D. for me?
- Yeah, but it's going to cost you.
- That's the least of my worries, I need that shit to be in prime conditions. I'm going to need to travel all over the world.
- No problem man, Vinny is a pro.
After supper, they stepped out of the Venetian as the valet brought the Grand, Paul's face became a pale white. He looked at the valet and started shouting.
- Why the fuck did you wash and clean my car, you stupid ass fuck!
The valet started trembling and stuttered quite a lot.
- I, I... It's... a courtesy of the hotel.
- I don't give a rat's ass for your courtesy; this car is a desert car, not a fucking fake plastic overpowered saloon.
- I'm sorry mister. It won’t happen again.
- Get the fuck out of my way you fool.
They stepped into the Grand, leaving the valet shaking and in panic.
- You get a little bit carried away sometimes.
- Fuck man, I don't get carried away. This car has fucking traveled this whole fucking continent without ever been washed. I mean, I keep it clean on the inside, but the dirt on the outside is like a legacy that glues on. It must stay forever...
- Ok, I'm sorry I asked.
Paul's pondered and smooth driving was now substituted by a hectic and high speed race with nobody. He stopped at a petrol station, filled up the tank and another three jerry cans. Paid, looked at the tv and stepped back in the Grand.
- The police are looking for the two criminals that robbed the Stars Bank in Calexico.
- Good thing your car was full of dust back in Calexico and now it's clean, they will never recognize it.
- Well, don't be so happy yet, this car doesn't work properly clean. Therefore my friend, I'm going to make an effort to dirty it.
He grinned and pulled off out of the petrol station. Drove like a lunatic for a few miles in the city until he reached the outskirts. The roads gave way to desert trails. Paul turned on the lights to aid his vision in the absolute darkness of the desert. Drove as fast as he could, lit a cigarette and raised the volume:
After driving for a couple of hours MeXico slowed down and called Vinny.
- It's me, turn down the perimeter.
He finished the call and started explaining.
- Vinny is a bit Hectic, he is also quite hyperactive, so try not to ruin this meeting.
- OK.
Paul drove along a long trail that led to a small valley. The dust rushed out in clouds behind the Jeep. Small lights could be seen coming from a huge luxurious house. Paul pulled over by the drive way.
- Ahh, much better, it "drank" a tank fool of petrol and it’s full of dust. Just how I like it, and should be, all the time.
Meanwhile, a fat asian approached them:
- Vinny my man? How have you been keeping?
- Yo man. Been hanging around.
- OK, let's get to business. This is my friend, he needs a fake I.D.
- No, wait. I need my real I.D. but can't just go and get it issued by the government. I also need a US passport and a EU passport.
- OK no problem. That will be 3000 dollars. Cash in advance. Now.
He gave the Chinese fatso the money.
- OK, so, into my office.
His office was a big studio in the middle of the house. Luxury could be seen all over. The lounge had a view over to Las Vegas. All the lights in the house were on. The decoration was precise and quite subliminal. The house was divided in three: the office, the lounge, and a kitchen. In the office he took a photo, that Vinny quickly transformed in Photoshop to add a suit and a tie.
- So, name, age, place of birth, give me all that shit.
- Jack, Jack Mason. 35. Born in Portugal on the 23rd of June of 75.
Half an hour later, he was stepping into the Grand with Paul looking at his European and American passport and I.D. card thinking that he was one step closer to his goal.
An hour into the return journey Paul asked:
- So, Miami?
- Yeah, got some business to sort out there.
- You will need a good car to get there.
- I've chosen the car. I just need you to take me to good car salesmen tomorrow.
- OK, no problem. Now let's get back to the casino and win ourselves some money.
Paul stood on the pedal and raised the volume:
The loud music exploded out of the Grand and mixed with the dust coming from the tires, while they left the darkness and drove towards the lights of Las Vegas. Jack took a glimpse at the star and mumbled:
- Soon we will get there.
Sem comentários:
Enviar um comentário