My trip to Puerto Vallarta Part 4

CHAPTER 4 — THE DEAL

Leonardo didn't answer right away. He stayed there, with don Toño's calloused hand still resting on his cheek like a brand of fire, and he felt the whole room tilt toward him, waiting. Five pairs of dark eyes fixed on his thin body. Five hot breaths in the thick air of the hostel.

He needed the money. That was undeniable. Without the 4,800 pesos, his week in Vallarta was reduced to eating five-peso tacos and sleeping on the beach. And even so, with 1,200 pesos he couldn't even make it halfway through the trip. The money was a real necessity, not a whim.

But it wasn't just the money. As he thought, Leonardo remembered something he had been pushing to the back of his mind since he boarded the plane: one of the reasons for his trip was to stop being so closed off in his sexuality. To stop hiding. He had spent eighteen years being the perfect son, the model student, the boy his parents showed off at family gatherings. And all that time, a part of him—the part that made him tremble in front of the locker rooms, the part that kept him awake in the early morning with thoughts he didn't dare name—had lived locked in a cell of silence.

That week was his freedom. And freedom, he thought, doesn't come without risks.

Of course, in his head he had never imagined being with people so mature. Much less construction workers. Rough, dark men, weathered by sun and work, with cracked hands and beer breath. His fantasy—the one he allowed himself in the early morning, his face buried in the pillow—had other faces: boys his age, students, maybe a classmate from the university. Not this.

But maybe it was the alcohol. Or the pretty words they had said to him. Or the loneliness of eighteen years of secrets. Or the three beers warming his blood. The truth is that when he finally spoke, his voice came out steadier than he expected.

"Eight thousand," he said.

Don Toño raised his eyebrows. A slow smile, with teeth stained by tobacco, spread across his face.

"Eight thousand?" he repeated, amused. "Would you look at that. The little guy knows how to negotiate."

"Eight thousand, and I'm with all of you," Leonardo insisted, holding his gaze. "No haggling."

Luis let out a low whistle. Martín and Pepe looked at each other. Ramiro scratched his chin, calculating.

"You're expensive, kid," don Toño said. "Eight thousand is a lot of money. For eight thousand I can bring three whores from downtown and still have plenty left for dinner."

"Then bring them." Leonardo shrugged with a confidence he didn't feel. "But they won't have my face. Or my eighteen years. Or... this."

He made no gesture. He didn't need to. They all knew exactly what he meant.

There was a silence. Then don Toño burst out laughing, his chest shaking.

"Bastard. I like you, Leo." He ran his tongue over his teeth. "Look, I'll be honest with you. Four thousand ...