Giving Credit

“Losers,” Rigoberto said in answer to his brother’s question about what kind of clientele frequented their mother’s bodega. “Who else plays the Lotto? Who else needs credit to buy cheap-ass shit?”

“You said it,” Rodrigo agreed. “Some people are just destined to be poor ‘cause they got poor ways of thinking.” He took a large screwdriver and used it like a cro-bar to pry a sign loose from the wall behind the cash register. 

The sign read: “Having trouble making ends meet? Ask Ms. Juanita about store credit.”

Like the sign, Ms. Juanita had recently been loosed from this mortal coil and her twin sons had come to see about their inheritance, flying down from Boise where they had moved with their philandering father decades ago. Her regular customers didn’t even know Juanita had kids. They hadn’t come to visit until she was being lowered in the ground.

“Look at this!” Rigoberto called from the tiny office in the back. “It’s the list of moochers that have been taking advantage of her.” He held a thick ledger book that contained hundreds of entries for items that customers had purchased on store credit from Mercado Juanita. “Someone bought diapers and baby food for $37 and our soft-headed mama let them pay it back five dollars at a time. No interest. Chingada! How are you supposed to build a business like that!”

“It’s okay,” said Rodrigo, “as soon as I listed it I got some responses from the big chains. We’ll have plenty of offers soon. If she had sold out four years ago, she could have done much better.”

“Excuse me, sir,” asked an old man with a face like a dark brown catcher’s mitt. “Are you the new manager?”

“I guess, until we unload the place. What can I do for you, villejito?”

“I come to pay my piece to Miss Juanita. My name’s Charlie Temple.”

Rodrigo found his name in the ledger and Rigoberto took a grubby-looking five dollar bill from him.

“What else, villejito?” Rigoberto asked when Charlie lingered after his payment. “You want to actually buy something now?”

“I only got two dollars,” Charlie said. “Might as well spend it on hope. Give me one of them MegaMillions.”

“I bet we don’t see him again,” said Rodrigo. “Once these gente see mama’s gone, you know they’re gonna stiff her for what they owe.”

But he was wrong. Every last person brought in what they owed. The boys found a buyer, too. The store chains kept trying to lowball them, but a private investor came forward and gave them full asking price. The inspections and the checks cleared and the day came to hand over the keys.

“What are you doing here, old man?” Rigoberto asked Charlie. “Whoever bought the place cleared out everybody’s account.”

“This my place now,” Charlie answered. “Thanks for selling me that Lotto ticket. If you could just hang that sign back up behind the cash register, then we’re all good.”