Up Against the Wall - The Coconut Chronicles: Two Guys, One Caribbean Dream House - page 259

“Okay, well let's see what your fellow comes up with.”
Let's do.
☼ ☼ ☼
Humberto arrived in his falling-to-pieces truck (the mere fact that it was still running defied
credulity, not to mention gravity) with his usual posse of assistants, including his translator-
cousin Roberto. Maybe he'd forgotten that we were aware he spoke fluent English.
Five minutes into his United Nations routine I sidled up to him.
“I think you overcharged us on our last deal.”
“No way!” he yelped.
I smiled knowingly.
“Gotcha.”
For a moment he looked slightly deflated. Then he unleashed a volley of perfectly-con-
structed English sentences in my direction, a smile flitting across his features.
“You're a funny one. I noticed you watching me from the beginning. It's hard to fool
you.”
“Oh, not so hard, trust me,” I said. “You're just not a particularly talented con artist.”
I thought he might be offended (or at least pretend to be), but instead he wagged his
finger at me and laughed again.
“So tell me about this project.”
I described what we wanted.
He scratched his stubble and nodded thoughtfully.
Corinne, having observed this exchange silently, spoke up.
“Can you handle it?”
He furrowed his brow as she spoke, glancing towards Roberto, until he remembered
himself (old habits die hard).
“Yes. And no. It is big, but not too big for Humberto. And we'll give you a bottom of
the rock price because of Mr. Patrick and Mr. Michael.”
“That's good to hear,” Corinne smiled.
He called the next morning with his bid. $29,000.
I thought I'd misheard. Maybe he meant $2,900.
I asked him to say each digit separately. “Okay,” he began, “two, nine, zero, zero.” I
knew it—$2,900!
“Zero,” he added.
“Um, is that three zeroes?”
“ Sí .”
Awkward pause.
“It's a good price,” he continued.
“It's not a good price,” I said. “The other bid is $16,500.”