CLUE BUS
Here’s a Quarter, Go Buy a Ticket to
the Clue Bus - Part 8
A day of confusion, subterfuge and misadventures at the Punta de Mita manse of Nando was followed by a very hot and relatively uneventful summer. Months had passed and now that the Holidays were upon us and high season was revisiting the area, some of the gloom (or was it just the humidity?...) seemed to be lifting. At long last, it seemed that Nando was going to spill his end game. Namely, how was his convoluted plan going to work?
Some of the minor details that had me stumped; how did he plan to sell $2,000,000 worth of electronics that didn’t exist? How would this sale result in retribution to Chad and his father for a wrongful deed of years past? How did Nando manage to create a virtual eBay website that functioned only to fool Chad? How were weapons and drugs potentially involved?
Nando had gathered his companion, Manny and myself in his comfy Den, beverages were served and he had ventured that we would now hear about the plan and its’ potential consequences. “Have I ever told you about Spanky?” he had asked.
“How to put this delicately so as not to offend, hmmm. Well, let me start at the beginning, at Stanford during my junior year. As you know, Roger Bear and I had moved out of the frat to a condo in Palo Alto and were enjoying the freedom that life off-campus afforded us. After a plunge in grade point averages forced us to revisit reality, we curbed our excessive partying and were back on track until a new neighbor moved into the condo next door. He introduced himself to us as Hector (silent “h”) Espinosa. He was a junior like us enrolled at Stanford majoring in Business. As we came to discover, his family was very well to do (duh, they could afford the tuition at Stanford) and from Guadalajara.”
“The timing couldn’t have been worse. Bear and I had just buckled back down from our excesses and here came Hector with the carnal appetites of an ancient Roman and the resources of a Junior Carlos Slim. Don’t forget that Bear was no slouch in the money department, but he was also conservative. Hector, on the other hand spent like he would perish if he stopped. In that first few months he bought 2 Porsches, threw a catered party for 350 on a boat that circled Alcatraz while the guests ate, drank and partied like New Year’s Eve even though it was in the middle of March, and in the Summer of that year he flew 20 of us on a private jet to Vegas for 5 days and footed the whole bill. He wouldn’t let us pay for anything!” He paused and took a gulp of his Peñafiel; just telling this story was apparently exhausting him.
“We came to realize that Hector was somewhat insecure, and that he was, shall we say, overcompensating by buying companionship and connections. A nicer, funnier guy you won’t meet, so he really didn’t need to be putting on a show for everyone in the first place. Like Bear, he is a large specimen, you might even say intimidating, but once he realized that we liked him even when he wasn’t splurging, his spending habits abated somewhat. Another thing that we discovered was that Hector had a ‘thing’ for younger guys. Not jailbait, just younger. It wasn’t until months later that we accidentally found out that his interests were not in the, uh, well…It turns out that Hector was into spanking…” Nando looked up at us as he took another sip of his mineral water and spotted my raised eyebrows.
“Hence the nickname I gather?” I mused.
“Look, don’t ask me how we found out, it’s not important. I don’t recall when he started thinking the name was cute, but it stuck, and that’s what he goes by, even down here. And I say a person’s sexual inclinations are a private matter as long as they stay in the realm of legality. Anyway, I’ve stayed in touch with Spanky over the years, and his tastes haven’t changed, by the way. He’s just that much older than the 20 year-olds he hangs with. He works in the family business and is doing quite well, MBA in biz from Stanford in his back pocket and living in a place just down the road from here, near you,” he glanced at me, “…in La Cruz de Huanacaxtle, up in the hills. The family business, it turns out, is drugs.”
“Awww man, you don’t mean that every time I see a guy on the street selling newspapers with headlines about the narco-trafficantes cutting off someone’s head and mailing it to their family, it’s Spanky and friends?” I pouted.
“Well, I have it from Spanky himself, that he has never authorized any killings. I can’t speak for maimings…” hedged Nando, “…and his family does not distribute into the area, only through it on the way to the States. More money to be made I guess. But last time I visited him, I was frisked, and the men at his compound, yes, COMPOUND, all had guns like you see on TV. It was quite overwhelming. I told Spanky next time we get together, it’s on neutral ground without his posse.”
“So now that we know the legend of Spanky, where does all this fit into the big picture? Please don’t tell me you’re going to have Spanky’s boys do something to Chad…” I said, hoping in spite of myself that maybe he did.
OK, let’s backtrack a little now that you know a bit about Spanky. Ever since I announced to you and more importantly, Chad, that I want to sell the collection as a lot, he’s been chomping at the bit to find someone to sell it to. I am convinced, as we’ve previously discussed, that he won’t settle for brokering the goods and the resultant commission. I will bet you a year’s supply of Peñafiel that if he finds a buyer, he will up the price, negotiate a direct buy from me and sell direct to that buyer. This, of course, would cut you out of the loop, but I don’t think Chad has anyone else’s best interests in mind. Since there’s no real money to be made, I can come up with a believable story to tell Chad regarding how you will receive a commission.” Nando paused, but didn’t look me in the eye, until he added, “I seem to remember Spanky mentioning that he’d like to venture into other areas of commerce…”
I met his smirking glare, “First off, you don’t need a year’s supply of Peñafiel, and I wouldn’t take that fool’s bet on a double-dog-dare, anyway, because you’re probably right. But are you prepared for what might happen to Chad when he burns a drug lord for a few million bucks? Do you hate him that much? Are you really that cruel?”
At the darkened edge of The Rainbow Room balcony, Chad was surveying the night’s guests below. He had started making this a regular haunt after coming up with the brilliant (if he did say so himself) notion of befriending the area’s more prosperous gay population. Amazing how much candy you could receive without ever having to give…And Chad was in no way going to give. If he kept playing this right, he could accumulate enough money and toys to avoid real work for a few months, enough time to pull off his Big Score.
He’d had no luck so far in finding an interested party for Nando’s collection, but he had a feeling that was going to change. The trick was not to sell it. It was to create a desire for the big hit. But to do that, you had to have the interest, hell, the trust of the buyer, who didn’t know they were a buyer. No, they were brilliant investors, visionaries, captains of commerce looking for another trifle. That’s the ticket.
As Chad worked up his mental juices, panning the lower tables for a prospect, someone nudged him from behind. Turning around, he noticed the well dressed guy, not quite in his 40’s, handsome, big and very macho in a uniquely gay way that only a rich Mexican could pull off.
“Hey stud muffins, you’re not the only one who likes the view from up here, so unless you know how to make that cute little butt of yours invisible, care to move it?” asked the man in a firm tone that allowed no rebuke.
“Uh, sure, sorry dude. Hey nice ring,” stammered Chad as he moved sideways, admiring the huge onyx and amber ring on the man’s left hand which was partially masking his amused face. “Never seen you up here before,” he added sweeping his glance to indicate the entire sparsely populated balcony area.
“That’s because I’ve never been here before, blondie. But I understand from a friend that The Rainbow Room makes a killer Sarsaparilla and tonic. And I do SO love my Sarsaparilla. My friends call me El Zurdo,” he replied, and smiled a whimsical smile as he proffered his hand.
Chad shook his hand, straining not to grimace from the force of the man’s grip. “I never met anyone with an ‘EL’ in front of their name before, like ‘El Cid’ or ‘El Mariachi’ right? What’s El Zurdo mean, anyway?” he asked lamely.
“You’d say ‘Lefty’ in English and that’s close enough,” the man smoothly commented.
“Are you like a baseball or jai-alai player or something? Most lefties don’t wear their ring on that hand. You got something special you do, southpaw dude?” asked Chad.
“Well, I think it’s pretty special, but you’ll just have to wait and see. How old are you anyway, maybe 21, 22?” queried Spanky. Email to a friend
- to be continued
Landon Hollander
E-mail: landon5123@mac.com
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Landon Hollander consults, designs and sells audio and video systems (landoplan.com) and handles sales in the Riviera Nayarit for the PVMirror. He can be reached at: landon5123@mac.com. Landon is currently teaching his dogs French to see if they will obey commands in this language as they appear not to understand English or Spanish.
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