buddies now. And they were all in the parking lot making noise, breaking bottles and stuff. Castillo was totally worried that cops were gonna show up, start asking a bunch of questions. Maybe ask for some ID from the motel’s one or two witnesses.
I got the feeling Castillo had 0.0 intention of being a “witness,” to have ANY record of him ever being here. To have to explain why a sixteen-year-old kid who clearly wasn’t his son was in his room. He stepped outside and calmly tried to get the guys to chill out some. That didn’t go so hot. Castillo told me to pack up. He said: It’s time to get the hell out of here anyway.
I moved as fast as I could. There were half a dozen reasons to finally get as far away from that place as possible. From open doors to torturous boredom. But the biggest reason of all was I didn’t want to piss off Castillo. He looked like he was spoiling for a fight for sure. To thatend, he seemed pleased with how fast I got ready. He’d packed even faster. I couldn’t even imagine the kinds of places he’d been to in his life. Places in other countries where he’d had to move light and fast. There was no doubt he’d done this a thousand times before.
They were banging on our door now. Shouting stuff. Bored and drunk and stupid. At least two of those three, if not all three.
Castillo’s pissed look was more, I think, amused now.
He told me just to stay close and we headed out.
If Castillo was looking for a fight, he got it.
• • •
First they gave us crap right in the doorway, even tried blocking us.
Castillo just kept talking calmly, moving both of us forward to his car.
There were now a couple of cars across the way. The door to their room was open, loud music coming out. There was another girl now too. The guys were saying more crude stuff about me and Castillo. Castillo just kept moving forward. The tattooed guy had gotten into his pickup.
Just get in the car, Castillo told me.
The pickup was now behind us. Blocking us. Castillo tossed our bags into the car, told me to stay put. This was not a problem for me. I twisted around in my seat, watched as he asked them to move the pickup. This went about as well as MY earlier conversation with this same guy.
I was trying to think of something to do, anything . Felt like I should lend Castillo a hand. But there was nothing to do. There were four guys out there. All of them in their twenties at least. Maybe if I . . .
Before I could even imagine some fantastical heroism I might have pulled off, it was over. I’m not even sure if I saw most of it happen.
One second, there’s four guys surrounding Castillo, giving him shit.
The second later, or maybe ten, there’s four guys lying on the ground.
Holding bloody faces and crooked knees. One guy, my tattoo guy, was just out. I mean OUT. Lying in the parking lot like he was sound asleep. Peaceful almost. I swear to God, I thought the guy was dead. (He wasn’t.)
Castillo retrieved something from the unconscious guy, the keys, and tossed them to one of the girls. Anna, it was. I could swear she was almost smiling. He told her to find other guys to hang around, and then he got into the car.
There was all this heat and energy coming off his body like the engine of a car that had just driven ten thousand miles. I’d done horseback riding at camp a couple of times (still not a big fan), and that’s what it was like. I was sitting next to something extremely powerful.
Too powerful.
Anna moved the pickup. Castillo knew I was staring at him and told me to shut up, even though I hadn’t been talking. So I looked away and just stared at the four guys lying on the ground as we slowly backed up.
And then drove away.
As the car exited the parking lot, my eyes moved up from the four broken men.
Up to the second floor just above.
I knew the room there.
She was standing in the window now. The curtain pulled back just enough.
Staring out into the night. Watching our
I got the feeling Castillo had 0.0 intention of being a “witness,” to have ANY record of him ever being here. To have to explain why a sixteen-year-old kid who clearly wasn’t his son was in his room. He stepped outside and calmly tried to get the guys to chill out some. That didn’t go so hot. Castillo told me to pack up. He said: It’s time to get the hell out of here anyway.
I moved as fast as I could. There were half a dozen reasons to finally get as far away from that place as possible. From open doors to torturous boredom. But the biggest reason of all was I didn’t want to piss off Castillo. He looked like he was spoiling for a fight for sure. To thatend, he seemed pleased with how fast I got ready. He’d packed even faster. I couldn’t even imagine the kinds of places he’d been to in his life. Places in other countries where he’d had to move light and fast. There was no doubt he’d done this a thousand times before.
They were banging on our door now. Shouting stuff. Bored and drunk and stupid. At least two of those three, if not all three.
Castillo’s pissed look was more, I think, amused now.
He told me just to stay close and we headed out.
If Castillo was looking for a fight, he got it.
• • •
First they gave us crap right in the doorway, even tried blocking us.
Castillo just kept talking calmly, moving both of us forward to his car.
There were now a couple of cars across the way. The door to their room was open, loud music coming out. There was another girl now too. The guys were saying more crude stuff about me and Castillo. Castillo just kept moving forward. The tattooed guy had gotten into his pickup.
Just get in the car, Castillo told me.
The pickup was now behind us. Blocking us. Castillo tossed our bags into the car, told me to stay put. This was not a problem for me. I twisted around in my seat, watched as he asked them to move the pickup. This went about as well as MY earlier conversation with this same guy.
I was trying to think of something to do, anything . Felt like I should lend Castillo a hand. But there was nothing to do. There were four guys out there. All of them in their twenties at least. Maybe if I . . .
Before I could even imagine some fantastical heroism I might have pulled off, it was over. I’m not even sure if I saw most of it happen.
One second, there’s four guys surrounding Castillo, giving him shit.
The second later, or maybe ten, there’s four guys lying on the ground.
Holding bloody faces and crooked knees. One guy, my tattoo guy, was just out. I mean OUT. Lying in the parking lot like he was sound asleep. Peaceful almost. I swear to God, I thought the guy was dead. (He wasn’t.)
Castillo retrieved something from the unconscious guy, the keys, and tossed them to one of the girls. Anna, it was. I could swear she was almost smiling. He told her to find other guys to hang around, and then he got into the car.
There was all this heat and energy coming off his body like the engine of a car that had just driven ten thousand miles. I’d done horseback riding at camp a couple of times (still not a big fan), and that’s what it was like. I was sitting next to something extremely powerful.
Too powerful.
Anna moved the pickup. Castillo knew I was staring at him and told me to shut up, even though I hadn’t been talking. So I looked away and just stared at the four guys lying on the ground as we slowly backed up.
And then drove away.
As the car exited the parking lot, my eyes moved up from the four broken men.
Up to the second floor just above.
I knew the room there.
She was standing in the window now. The curtain pulled back just enough.
Staring out into the night. Watching our
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