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Walking to the front of the hotel, I walk into the break room to eat my lunch while I wait for Phillip, one of our best drug mules, to swallow the cocaine. It’s only a little past ten a.m. but I had an early morning and am fucking starving. I also don’t know when I’ll have another opportunity to eat again. Opening the fridge, I collect my bag from the bottom shelf and sit at the table. Pulling out my food, I pause when Antonio enters the room and leans against the wall.
“Hola,” he greets me, his eyes darting toward the bathroom door.
“Hey. ¿Cómo te va?”
“Good so far,” he replies, still not meeting my gaze.
Antonio isn't much of a talker or for engaging in social norms. It's the reason he doesn't handle any jobs requiring him to be sociable. Ending another man's life doesn't require any talking. Turning back to my food, I open my bag of chips and Antonio hums quietly to himself while tapping on the wall.
He's driving us today; Phillip said he felt safer with the two of us with him so Zacharias is abiding to his request to keep him happy. He's an important part of our operation after all. What started off as us doing him a favor quickly turned into him being a valuable asset.
Phillip exits the bathroom frowning. “I need a few minutes. Maybe some water and that famous soup Antonio has made for me on the last job.”
“Everything okay?” I look up from the table.
“Yeah.” He clutches the container holding the tiny packets full of drugs to his chest. “I will be. Just part of the process.”
No one expected him to be so good at his job but occasionally he has off days where he struggles with his anxiety, making it harder for him to complete his job quickly. His muscles tense too much, causing him to be unable to swallow the packets as easily and sometimes he needs anesthesia spray.
Antonio rushes to the sink and fills a cup of water before handing it to him. “Here you go,burrito.”
Wrapping his fingers around the plastic, he tilts his head at Antonio. “Why do you keep calling me that?”
Antonio shrugs, pulling out a bottle from a black bag resting on a chair. “Because your job title is drug mule but you remind me more of a baby donkey.”
I snort, shoving a chip into my mouth. A smirk plays on Phillip's lips and he twists a strand of one of his blond locks around his finger. “Here I thought it was because I made you so hungry, you couldn't help but view me as a delicious snack.”
Clearing my throat, I lightly tap my closed fist to my chest when my food goes down the wrong way. He isn't feeling well enough to swallow a few bags but he sure is up to fuck with Antonio a little while, coming on to him in a very unsubtle way.
“I ate only recently. Why would I be hungry so soon?” Antonio's face wrinkles in confusion. It’s clear the man doesn’t communicate with others enough to understand when someone is hitting on him. It’s always so damn painful to watch.
Snickering between taking sips of his water, Phillip waves him off with his hand. Grabbing the bottle from Antonio’s fingers, he sprays the numbing spray on the back of his throat and hands the medicine back. Draining his cup, he sticks his hip out toward Antonio. “You're a hitman, right?” Phillip asks, leaning closer to Antonio.
“Among other things.”
“So that means you're very attached to your gun then, and it goes wherever you do?”
I almost choke on the next chip I toss in my mouth and quickly reach for my water.
Antonio mostly blocks him out while reading something on his phone. “Yeah, sure. Are these questions going somewhere?”
“I was just curious about all the places you use your gun at, is all. Wondering if you don't only carry it to large open spaces but in dark and tight areas as well.”
Holding my hand to my mouth, I shake my head, trying not to laugh. Antonio, the clueless fucker he is, squints and finally turns his attention to the smirking Phillip. The ornery little blond has been shamelessly flirting with Antonio for weeks, even going so far as asking if a seat is taken during meetings while pointing at his crotch, and Antonio never seems to catch on.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Antonio's phone finally falls away from his face and his brows bunch together.
Before Phillip can answer, two more men walk in, and I sigh in relief at no longer having to witness the hopeless situation unfolding in front of my face.
“We're going to be late if you don't hurry,” I say, nudging my head in the direction of the bathroom.
“Yeah, okay. I'm going.” Swaying his hips in Antonio's direction, Phillip disappears into the bathroom.
Antonio glances my way. “What a strange man.”
“Says the person who keeps calling him little donkey in Spanish,” I huff.
A little while later, the bathroom door creaks open and Phillip places the empty container in front of me. “I'm ready.”
