Lil Ol Pedro
1196 Words
Sounded good to me, I desperately needed a shower and couldn’t wait to get some rest. However, on our way to the parking garage we ran into another young local selling ecstasy for $10 bucks a pop. We got him down to $16 dollars and 6 triple C’s for 6 hits. That would be the equivalent to 1 ½ hit’s a piece, amongst us four explorers. We then proceeded to the nameless Hispanics place, which just so happened to be a Motel 6. He had us park a ways away, so as to not arouse suspicion to the Motel Security. Eager to get some rest, as well as the others, I let the fellow know that we’d like to turn in if that was ok. Well…as it turns out it was not ok. Oh it was ok for the others to turn in, but not me, no, not the driver. I got the privilege of taking lil Pedro on a drug run. “Just so I can get to know you” he said. I was utterly annoyed. Apparently lil Pedro here was a coke dealer, and specialized in supplying the Vegas strip with a little more then un-easy vibrations. We walked for what seemed like miles; showing me his, now long forgotten route. A very forward kinda guy too I might add, as he casually grabbed the tit of a local prostitute, exchanged #’s and plans for later. Not far from there we were walking along when I caught lil Pedro conversing with a group of plus size women. It wasn’t a problem till they approached me and stated that ~what’s’ his name? Pedro, said I had some dank. I told them I probably had some left back at the motel. They said you meet us at the bridge at 6 and it better be legit. I said sure why not. I would of said anything to get them away from me. I immediately asked him to take me back. And he did.
On the way back we started to make some small talk. I managed to convince him I was once an affiliate of the Mexican Mafia, in Driscol Texas. I explained we were in cahoots with the West Side Lynch Mob, and that I was sent into rival gang territories to sorta’ scope out any prospects. I being a Werro’ (Spanish for whitey) would spy and return unnoticed. An urban modern day James Bond, so to say.
This had made him a little uneasy. I would abruptly stop in the middle of traffic….abruptly screeching to a halt… scaring the s**t out of him; asking him, “Do you wanna fuckin walk?” He shook his head no, and all bug eyed, jerking his head in all directions to look at the traffic swerving around from behind us. “Just drive!” he pleaded; sweat starting to gather on his face. I tool a sigh of angst and moseyed on. We made it three blocks from the motel, where I had to park and walk with him the rest of the way. “I don’t wanna tip off motel security,” he said. When we arrived everyone was sleeping. I decided to take a shower, while Pedro had to make some calls. I tried desperately to wake myself from this nightmare, slowly coming to the awareness that it was time to leave. But little did I know, that while bathing, lil ol’ Pedro was gonna’ whip out a fixed blade, wake up Suzi and pressure her into a good size line of coke. She looked startled as I exited the shower. Not just bothered but wide eyed and frantic. I was pissed. I don’t know what happened but the sight of the blade triggered some uncomfortable flashbacks of Rude Boy, back home at Tumbleweed. This incident would eventually come back to f**k us in the ass, so to say. Metaphorically, mind you.
I grabbed my girl by the hand and escorted her out of the motel. She then told me what was going on, and we left Curry and Aliestair to sleep off their buzz. Suzi and I managed to stay gone for five hours, and cleaned our car to an immaculate T. Everything was neat and nicely organized in a manner that it would be easily accessible to our needs as we proceeded our trip. Only to return to our messy friends who managed to prove it really wasn’t worth the time we spent on cleaning it. Regrouped, we then began to explore in the day light, this time. We drove to another hotel parking lot to rest some more and enjoy the continental breakfast that they had advertised. It was after breakfast that we decided to give the strip another chance. We lounged at another hotel pool and made ourselves at home, just trying to blend in. We departed again from Curry and Aliestair, and walked right up to a woman that looked F.U.B.A.R. It was not a place for children. We gave her some cigarettes and a snack cake, then said a prayer with her. It was all we had. She claimed she was involved in a hit and run on the Vegas strip. I advised her to go to a nearby business and obtain a security camera video. She wasn’t having it. And yes it did occur to me, upon confrontation, that she might be lying to us. We were looking for a laugh, maybe another story to share with our friends, but what we got, was a harsh reality, and pity for the weak.
Not long after that, maybe a few blocks away we ran into an old man who also said his name was Smokey. He greeted our concerned faces, with his out right approach to us, asking for a dollar; which we didn’t have and proceeded to mistakenly give him too much of a hint as to our background information. “Yall aint from around here? Well then, let me show you the ropes.” We then walked about the town dosing ourselves with some more c’s, and trying to make an “honest” buck. We told our new friend we were going to go and try and find our friends now, but we thought we’d stop and smoke a jay at our car first. 3 tokers is better then 4 or 5.
That crucial moment we’d soon learn two things. 1) this n***o was high on crack and 2) he had a fantasy of 2 men sucking on a white girls toes. Ha! We decided to pass. Instead we proceeded to mingle about the streets singing ol n***o folk tales and sharing a forty, that we eventually gave him money to buy. He had asked, prior to leaving the car, if he could borrow a shirt because the liquor store wouldn’t let him in without one; in which case, then upon later meeting up with our friends, Smokey was reluctant to return the shirt back to my friend Curry. Curry was upset that I had loaned this dude one of his shirts, and he had every right to be. I just didn’t care.
- Writer
