Barcelona outside

"- Can I ask you something?
- Sure.
- Why are you doing this? I mean, you seem smart; you're well educated, I'm sure you could get another job.
- I have another job; this is a hobby.
- A hobby?
He raises one eyebrow.
-Yeah, you know, I like to help peolple.
He turns hos head back and laughs.
- I bet you do!
- What's so funny? I helped you here, right? I escorted you here, and here you are safely escorted to your hotel.
- I see... Then you might wanna help me out with some other stuff as well?
He lends towards me and puts his hand on my thigh.
- I guess I could, but first I'm gonna take a shower... a hot shower. It's been two weeks.
- You don't have a shower?
- Yeah, but the heater is broken. Me and my friend live in one of those old apartments in Barrio Gótico. It gets really cold in the winter. You can hardly even be there.

I open the mini bar and take out two miniature bottles of vodka.

- So this is luxury for you...

- You have no idea!

I search my pocket and take out a little plastic bottle.

-What's that?

- I have a headache.

I put a pill in my mouth and start chewing it.

- Don't you swallow with water?

- I swallow without water.

He laughs again. He looks excited. I think to myself as I turn my back on him to spit the chewed tablet into the little vodka bottle. I hand it to him.

- Bottoms up!

I watch him empty the bottle.

- I'm gonna take a shower.

- All right.

He reaches for the remote control and leans back on the bed as I close myself in the bathroom. I rinse my mouth and stretch out on the floor. The floor is warm. How nice, they've even got floor heating. I calculate that the pill will have this guy knocked out within fifteen minutes. I hope that my friend, who is also a dealer, gave me the right stuff and not ecstasy or some shit that'll make him bounce around like a horny rabbit.

When I get out from the bathroom he's sleeping like a baby. I look at him. He seems to be a nice guy, not sleazy or anything, just a young yuppie on a business trip.

I roll him over the bed. He's drooling copiously. I push him onto the foor face down so that he doesn't choke, trying to be careful that he doen't hit his head. I don't know where to put him, so I push his body in under the bed. The phone rings. It's Karen.

-Are you done?

- I'm done.

- Good, tomorrow we'll just write him a note:

«Thanks for the wild night; you were asleep so I took my money from your wallet, bla, bla.». He's gonna be happy thinking he got laid, but was to drunk to remember it.

- You're sure?

-Of course, it always works! Just don't steal anything! Take the money he said he was gonna pay you, and look for his address. Dis you take the photo?

- I thought that was a joke.

- No, take a photo of him with a banana up his ass or something, than you can blackmail him if he puts up any trouble.

- I won't fucking blackmail him!

- Just in case, anyway, I checked the TV guide, do we have Canal+?

- It's the Hotel Arts. We probably have all the channels.

-Great! Canal+ shows "Pirates of the Caribbean" at eleven and "Lucky Number Seven" at two. Do you want me to bring something?

- We got room service you know... wait, bring a bikini so we can go to the spa and have treatments, we'll just put it on the room!

- We sooo deserve this! TV! A hot shower! A fucking spa!

- Hotel breakfast!

- Ok, see you in fifteen!

- See ya!

Luxury, in BCN Week