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it.
    As it turned out, my friend needed to clean up more urgently than I did, while the cash he had to show me simply took my breath away.

6
    â€˜It’s done now.’ This was all he would say when I asked where he had been, and even then he refused to look me in the eye. Alberto had answered my knock at the door, and then walked right back into the kitchen area with my question chasing after him. I found him standing at the sink, with his back to me.
    â€˜Man,’ he muttered next, ‘I need a smoke.’
    â€˜I can buy some,’ I said brightly, and dropped my stash of pesos on to the table. Alberto had the sink tap running and was scrubbing at something with a nailbrush. He was still wearing that money belt of his, his vest all caught up in it at the back. When my coins hit the surface he glanced over his shoulder, but didn’t seem as pleased as I had hoped. I asked him what he wanted: Hidalgos or Lucky Strike? Alberto said either would be good, and some cigarette papers for the grass he had in his back pocket.
    â€˜You got dope?’
    â€˜Is what I just said, dumbass.’
    â€˜Alberto …’ I trailed off there, tipped my head to one side. ‘Is everything OK?’
    One time we had made a delivery to the airport for Galán, and earned ourselves a ready rolled reefer as a tip. Our contact there said he could always help us out on that front, and even some powder if we were interested, but we never went back for more. Alberto had been eager to fire up the joint on the way home, but after a couple of hits he let me smoke the rest. It clearly hadn’t gone down well with him, and I quickly realised why. Now here he was inviting me to get some papers so we could both feel quietly sick all over again.
    Alberto reached for a dishcloth, and I pressed him to explain what was going on.
    â€˜It’s a gift. No big deal. What else could I do? Say no?’
    â€˜Like you couldn’t say no to the pistol?’
    Now he turned to me, and I realised he’d been trying to scrub his vest. Alberto looked like he’d eaten a jam waffle in too much of a hurry, but the fierce scowl on his face told me not to question it. All the time he just carried on drying his hands – endlessly turning that cloth until I thought he might start shredding it. Maybe he sensed my alarm, because he lightened up with his next breath, and offered to get the cigarettes himself.
    â€˜Keep your cash,’ he said, and pulled a fold of dollar bills from that damn money belt. ‘I just need something to sort me out, all right? Beatriz will be back soon, and I don’t want anyone to see me like this but you.’
    There had to be one hundred, maybe one hundred and fifty bucks there, and for me that was more than enough. My friend had spots of blood on his vest and a look that told me something very bad indeed had occurred that afternoon. I really didn’t know what to think or say. I just took the money he offered me, told him I would see him on the rooftop once I’d picked up the cigarettes and the papers, then left.
    I would go straight to bed that night without anyone knowing that I had come home. My mother had yet to return herself, and I found Uncle Jairo dozing in front of a bullfight on the portable. It was the only source of light in the room as the bulb had blown again, which meant shadows blinked and shuddered all around me. I was used to it, and for a while I just lay on my bed and listened to the commentary. I hadn’t smoked as much grass as Alberto, but I certainly felt the effects. It wasn’t so bad this time. In fact it had been a nice way to see through the dog end of the day. At first Alberto had been so on edge I didn’t think he would stay for long. He kept fidgeting and cracking his knuckles, then complained that it was too quiet. The first joint seemed to sort him out, however, and by the time I stubbed out the second one we were happy just to sit back and