out of my own money while you were away and now I need the money back and you have it to pay me.”
“I haven’t got it.”
“You have it,” I said. “It’s in the cash box now and you can pay me.”
“I need that money for something,” he said. “You don’t know all the needs I have for money.”
“I stayed here all the time you were in Spain and you authorized me to pay these things as they came up, all these things of the house, and you didn’t send any money while you were gone and I paid over six hundred pesos in my own money and now I need it and you can pay me.”
“I’ll pay you soon,” he said. “Right now I need the money badly.”
“For what?”
“For my own business.”
“Why don’t you pay me some on account?”
“I can’t,” he said. “I need that money too badly. But I will pay you.”
He had only fought twice in Spain, they couldn’t stand him there, they saw through him quick enough, and he had seven new fighting suits made and this is the kind of thing he was: he had them packed so badly that four of them were ruined by sea water on the trip back and he couldn’t even wear them.
“My God,” I said to him, “you go to Spain. You stay there the whole season and only fight two times. You spend all the money you took with you on suits and then have them spoiled by salt water so you can’t wear them. That is the kind of season you have and then you talk to me about running your own business. Why don’t you pay me the money you owe me so I can leave?”
“I want you here,” he said, “and I will pay you. But now I need the money.”
“You need it too badly to pay for your own mother’s grave to keep your mother buried. Don’t you?” I said.
