Lisa Allen-Agostini - Trinidad Noir

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.

Angrily, Andre started back to his car. “He can’t hide from me,” he fumed. “He must go to work.”

“Andre!” Honesto stood, head bowed, in his doorway, a cowering child called to the principal’s office.

Andre turned. “Give me my money now,” he demanded.

“I want my money, boy.”

“I don’t have it.”

“What the hell yuh mean you don’t have it?” Andre shouted.

Honesto glanced around the complex nervously. “Please keep your voice down.”

“I go keep my voice down when yuh give me my money.”

“It’s gone,” Honesto said quietly. “I sent it home to my mother.”

“No,” Andre said. “Yuh send your money home for yuh mother, not mine. I want my money now.”

“It’s too late. I don’t have it. Besides,” Honesto added defensively, “it was my money. I won it, not you.”

“But we agreed to split it.” Andre’s voice rose again. “Yuh used my machine and my money!”

“But I won. The money was my winnings, and now it’s gone.” Honesto stepped back and reached to close the door.

“Yuh lying sonofabitch!” Andre shouted, lunging at the door. The lock clicked.

That night as they lay in bed, Andre told Mary what had happened. “But he tief yuh money. How he could do yuh that?” she wailed.

“He just do it,” Andre responded wearily.

“To me, all the money was yours,” Mary declared. “It was your machine, and Honesto play with your money.” She shook her head. ‘‘I just don’t understand him. He’s a pharmacist and he working for more money than you, and he won’t even split it. And you was his friend.”

“All he care about is the money,” Andre sighed. “Money is the only reason he come to Trinidad.”

“I still can’t believe he could tief from us like that and get away with it.”

Andre shrugged. “Tell it to the judge, I guess.”

“Why not?” Mary demanded.

“Why not what?”

“Why not tell it to the judge? Sue Honesto for the money!”

“I thinking about doing that,” Andre said glumly, “but there isn’t enough money involved for that. After time off from work and legal expenses, it might cost me six thousand to get my six thousand.”

“Six? Go for the whole twelve! Honesto obviously don’t believe you have an agreement to split it.”

“That is true,” Andre agreed. “But it still risky to sue. There’s no guarantee, and if we lose, we go be in more expense.”

“There must be something we could do,” Mary sighed, turning off the bedside lamp. “Even with all the crime in Trinidad, being victims like this is the last thing I would have thought.”

Andre lay awake, his stomach churning. He tief my money. It was my machine and my money he sent home like clockwork to his mother. And I trusted him, that sonofabitch. My money, and now it’s gone — he stopped. That’s it! Why didn’t I think of that before? Excited, he began to make a plan. Yes, it just might work. Life may not be fair, he thought grimly, but that don’t mean I can’t try to right the wrongs.

The next morning, after dropping Brandon and Adam at school, Andre drove directly to Honesto’s complex. This time he parked outside on Jerningham Avenue. As he opened the car door, a pair of screeching keskidees flew from an overhead wire to a neighboring branch plumb-lined with ruddy mangos. He hastened to the nearest door on the first floor of the complex and glanced at the lock. Kwikset. Then he hurried back to his car and drove to the Priority Mall in San Juan.

In the locksmith shop, a middle-aged woman was seated behind the counter talking on her mobile. “Yuh think I pluck myself and get money? Yuh understand?” she was saying. She nodded at Andre and added, “Customer come. Call yuh later.”

“Where Moony?” Andre demanded.

The woman slowly looked up from putting her mobile in her purse, rolled her eyes, and steupsed loudly. “What? Yuh don’t even say hello? Where yuh manners gone, boy?”

“Sorry,” Andre said sheepishly. “Good morning.”

“That’s more like it. I don’t know what this country coming to,” she continued, shaking her head. “First people don’t have no time to talk with people, now they don’t even say good morning! What you in such a rush for, boy?”