Carlos smoked a second spliff, blew a couple of smoke rings, and distracted me with his thoughts for how to run a drugs operation with efficiency.
Born to be an Uber driver, Carlos.
He said that being with a woman is a lot like flying a kite. Once you stop running, all that’s left is to hold on to it. I thought that sounded a bit weird, but I’ve never been a writer, so who was I to judge?
My phone vibrated. I checked it. She had been sending me SnapChats, which were getting sexier and sexier. I felt confident that she was real this time, and not another one of those scams, because a few of her snaps referenced inside jokes we had been making in our conversations. We had started talking the week before, after I responded to a craigslist post she made.
Pulling into the motel’s parking lot, I could see Carlos getting uncomfortable. There was a cop’s car parked there, in front of one of the rooms. Damn Hawaii five oh, he said.
Thanking him, I got out of his lowrider and gave him five stars, and a somewhat generous tip. Then I texted her, I’m here.