Romero locked the door to his apartment with his key, slipped his key into the front right pocket of his pants, walked quickly to the end of the hallway down several flights of stairs through the building's back fire exit and out into the alley as usual. And as usual, he was of two minds.
He was the youngest in the room by twenty years at least. The others, well dressed in old clothes, sat in pairs and small groups waiting for the monthly meeting to begin. Waiting for something.
"Kid!" one of the older men called, "Come and sit." He joined them at the table smiling and shaking hands - the shrinking number. Each year they were fewer. He was proud to be among them. He was also ashamed.
The January meeting of Picador's Union Local Number Three was called to order.
Less than 30 seconds into the Chair's introductory remarks, Romero's phone began to vibrate in the inside pocket of his blazer. He was mildly embarrassed and annoyed.
Romero ducked, made himself inconspicuous, turned his back to the speaker and whispered, "Digame".
"Mr. Romero? This is Maurice from Hilton Hotels. How's your day going?" The caller spoke in southern accented American English.
Romero, confused, responded, "I'm not interested."
He moved his thumb to disconnect.
"We know where you are right now, Mr. Romero. The animals know. The horses, los torros, the cows, the pigs, the chickens, the geese, the eagles, the jelly fish..."
He terminated the call with his thumb and tried to collect himself before raising his eyes and rejoining the meeting.
He was the youngest in the room by twenty years at least. The others, well dressed in old clothes, sat in pairs and small groups waiting for the monthly meeting to begin. Waiting for something.
"Kid!" one of the older men called, "Come and sit." He joined them at the table smiling and shaking hands - the shrinking number. Each year they were fewer. He was proud to be among them. He was also ashamed.
The January meeting of Picador's Union Local Number Three was called to order.
Less than 30 seconds into the Chair's introductory remarks, Romero's phone began to vibrate in the inside pocket of his blazer. He was mildly embarrassed and annoyed.
Romero ducked, made himself inconspicuous, turned his back to the speaker and whispered, "Digame".
"Mr. Romero? This is Maurice from Hilton Hotels. How's your day going?" The caller spoke in southern accented American English.
Romero, confused, responded, "I'm not interested."
He moved his thumb to disconnect.
"We know where you are right now, Mr. Romero. The animals know. The horses, los torros, the cows, the pigs, the chickens, the geese, the eagles, the jelly fish..."
He terminated the call with his thumb and tried to collect himself before raising his eyes and rejoining the meeting.
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