Chapter Nine
The small airport at Managua was more like a giant mercado, vendors selling coffee, touristy knickknacks, leather goods, and the most important thing: the last chance pharmacia where people could buy their drugs at a reduced price, and even some they couldn’t get in America. The line was two-deep, mostly gringos with the most coveted thing in Nicaragua—American dollars.
RJ, followed closely by one of the workers from the estate that was loyal to him, weaved his way through the small throng of deplaning passengers. He’d almost missed the flight. Estrella had needs he felt obligated to fulfill and he took his obligations seriously. He inhaled deeply; her smell still lingered on him. It was almost euphoric. By the time he realized the hour there wasn’t time for a shower, so he
