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Matchbox Seven Glancing at the numbers on houses, I walked arm-in-arm with Marisol down a lazy road in Greensboro. Since people recognised them far more than us, Paul, Adam, and Kyle had sent Marisol and me out to look for Alejandro Torres, our only clue as to Rob's whereabouts. They were waiting in the tour bus for us, just around the corner. I heard Marisol sigh, and I glanced at her. Her head was down, her eyes watching her feet. Though I was standing right next to her, she looked so alone. I held her arm tighter, just so she'd know I was there. She gazed up at me with glossy eyes, and her lips curved up slightly. Then her head moved down again. "Here it is," I murmured, pointing to the brass numberplate that was nailed into a stucco wall. Over our heads hung a wooden sign that said Alejandro Torres. Parting a beaded curtain, I stepped into a little shop. Stereos and television sets lined an isle that led to a man behind a glass case of jewelry. The man's smile was so big that even his eyes seemed to smile. "Buenos dias, senor!" the man looked right at me. "¿Como esta usted?" "Uh...," I knew he had asked how I was. "Bean?" The man stared at me. "Um... Englaysea?" When he shrugged, I turned to Marisol. "Help?" "Buenos dias, senor!" she said to the man, and he turned to her. "Do you speak english?" "Yes," he nodded. "But my english is not very good." "Are you Alejandro Torres?" I asked him, and he nodded. Marisol retrieved something from her purse and laid it on the counter. Glancing over her shoulder, I saw a picture of her and Rob. "Have you seen this man?" she asked, pointing to Rob. Alejandro picked up the picture. Squinting, he held it about a foot away from his face. "This man? Yes. He was here yesterday." Marisol and I exchanged glances, and I caught a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "Do you know him?" "No. Until yesterday, I never saw him." I looked over Alejandro's head, at the musical instruments on display. One in particular caught my eye: a black accoustic guitar with a picture of Elvis and a sticker that said tattooed white trash. "He came in here to pawn stuff?!?" I exclaimed. Marisol gasped; I'm not sure if she was really that surprised, or if I had startled her. Alejandro nodded. "He brought me many luggages, but I would not buy most of what he had. I do not buy clothing..." "But you buy guitars," I broke in, and Marisol stared at me. Pointing behind Alejandro, I said, "That's his guitar, right there." Marisol's eyes widened, and she bit her lower lip. Reaching over his head, Alejandro slid the guitar strap off its hooks. He held the guitar like a baby. "This is a very nice instrument. But I must clean the stickers off before I sell it..." "Can we please have it back?" I asked him. "I don't know why he sold it, but he's going to want it back." "This is a costly guitar," Alejandro narrowed his eyes at me. "I gave your friend a lot of money for it." I slid my hand into my back pocket and pulled out my wallet. But, when I opened it, it was empty. I closed my eyes and sighed. Marisol dug around in her purse again and pulled out her wallet. She put her credit card on the counter. Shaking his head, Alejandro said, "I am sorry, Senorita, but I cannot accept credit cards." "Please," she spoke softly, her eyes welling up with tears. "I don't have any cash." "I am sorry, Senorita." I sighed. "Well, can you hold it for us? We have friends who'll have the money." When he nodded, I led Marisol out of the shop. "I'm sorry, Brian," she whispered, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She brushed her hair out of her face and wiped the tears from her eyes. "I tried not to cry." "It's okay," I replied. "How are you holding up?" Grimacing, she shrugged. "Hey, any luck?" Adam was leaning out a window when we approached the tour bus. "Don't know yet," I said. "We need some money though, as much cash as we can get together. Apparently, Rob sold his guitar and I don't know what else." "He what?!?" Adam lost his balance and began sliding out the window. I ran to catch him, but he grabbed the side of the window before he fell out. "Adam!" I heard Paul's voice. "I'm okay!" he ducked back into the bus. "I'm okay!" I followed Marisol up the steps of the bus. She sat down, and I stood in the isle. "What's going on?" Paul walked toward me. "Alejandro Torres is an owner of a pawn shop," I replied. "He says that Rob came in there yesterday and tried to sell him all his stuff." Paul stopped about seven feet in front of me. "What the hell is he doing? Is he craz..." Glancing at Marisol, he drew his unbandaged hand to his lips. "I'm sorry." She stared at her hands, which were resting in her lap. "I know that you're upset," she sighed, shaking her head. "I don't understand this either." "We need to go back to the shop," I told Paul. "We saw Rob's guitar in there, and we have to go buy it back." Paul pulled out his lighter and put it the hand that rested in the sling. "How much money do we need?" he asked as he lit a cigarette. "I don't know. As much as we can find. I don't know what else Rob sold." Breathing through his cigarette, Paul reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. "Um," he said with a puff of smoke. "I've got about four dollars on me... but Adam has money!" Paul's face lit up. "He's been saving up for a..." "You said you wouldn't tell!" Adam's voice cried from the back of the bus. Paul shrugged. "Well, he's got money," he murmurred to us before turning his head. "How much ya got, Hashbrown?" Adam stepped into sight, clenching a fistful of cash. "Seven thousand dollars," he replied, holding up the money. "Whah...," I just stared at him. "What are you saving up for?" "Were," Adam corrected me. He stuffed the money in his pocket. "Doesn't matter now. Let's just go." I turned to Marisol, who was staring out the window. "Are you going to be all right here?" Marisol glanced in my general direction. "I'll be fine, Brian," she reassured me in a flat tone. Pulling her shawl over her shoulders, she turned away and returned to staring out the window. Pointing his painted thumb behind his shoulder, Adam said, "Kyle and Frank are back there. And Paul's staying here, right?" Paul nodded. "We shouldn't be gone for long. You ready?" I nodded and followed Adam out of the bus. |