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Logan told the driver he’d be right back with the fair they’d agreed upon. Looking through the windshield, he saw a group of preadolescent boys leaning against the side of his hotel. Finally moving to shouts of, “Vamanos,” behind him, he hurried down the steps and to the boys on the sidewalk.
“Bueno, amigos. Quieren dinero para un poquito de trabajo. Sí?”
The boys looked at each other, then one shrugged his shoulders.
“Sí, Señor.”
“I need to get money to pay the driver. I’ll give you extra for the effort,” Logan continued in Spanish.
The boy followed Logan around the corner of the hotel and up the stairs to his room. Logan went two doors past his own, lifted the corner of the mat, and retrieved his key. When he turned around, the boy’s eyes showed grudging respect as he watched Lo
