I was recently telling this story about my late friend and figured it was best to write it down. The truth is, Chacho was a colorful character. Part of being his friend sometimes was making sure he didn't get killed and making sure others didn't kill him, hell it was making sure I didn't kill him. One day we were trotting in Chelsea after one of his botched plastic surgery accidents had put him in the hospital. While he could not afford Michael Jackson's doc, I was sure my friend was going to someone like him. Someone probably licensed in Cuba where he was from but had no prayer of getting accredited in America.
On this day in particular, Chacho and I had run into an old friend of his. He was talking his ear off and treating me like the third wheel which meant one of two things, one that my buddy was planning on getting sex later from this strapping gent. Or two, that my buddy was about to throw down some shade. Adorn in his Louis Vuitton Chacho pushed his Chanel sunglasses to his nose as soon as the man left.
This is how the exchange went between us
Me: Who was that?
Chacho: That mutherfucker? He told the Feds I was selling drugs and he got me sent away. Not only did he cripple the small business I was trying to run, but he owes me five thousand dollars!
Me: Chacho, I am sorry to hear that.
Chacho: You don't understand! I will get my five grand, April!
Me: Chacho, it has been five years. You have been to jail and now you are bettering yourself. Forget about it. He did you a favor. Besides, it was a drug debt. That's illegal.
Chacho: He owes me five grand.
Me: Chacho, he also put you in jail. While I understand you are upset you need to put the past behind you.
Chacho: And it wasn't a very happy time in my life so there you go!
I bid Chacho goodbye and went home. As usual, my head spun from our adventures but I walked in my door laughing my ass off at my friend and his anti-logic. So I went to bed and as usual had my phone beside me. That is when my phone rang. It was Chacho. It was probably the usual drama where he was fighting with his brother over something crazy. I picked up for some odd reason.
Chacho: Hello April, I have a bit of a problem.
Me: If this is the shit with your brother I am in no mood, Chacho.
Chacho: Oh no, nothing like that. You remember the guy we met on the street that owed me five grand? Well I broke into his apartment because I remembered where he lived, using the old nail file and credit card trick. I had planned to steal five thousand dollars worth of things to get my money back. But there is one problem April, he moved! So now I am in some stranger's apartment and I can't possibly steal from them because they don't owe me money. I don't know what to do!
I go silent on the other end of the phone. I may have accidentally become an accessory to a crime.
Chacho: You there?
Me: Yes, this is what you do. GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE! NOW!
Chacho: Okay, will do.
Chacho hangs up the phone. I am sitting in bed exasperated. Five minutes later I get another call. It is Chacho again.
Chacho: Hi April, I am on the sidewalk. I got out of the apartment. I didn't steal anything.
Me: Good. Chacho, do me a favor, don't call me in the midst of doing something illegal ever again. Seriously, you put me in a compromising situation.
Chacho: Okay, fair enough. Thanks for talking to me. Sweet dreams, sweet heart. Love You, Toodles.
Chacho hangs up the phone. My head in spinning. I have a feeling I will need advil in the morning and I am absolutely right.
But one thing about Chacho, he never lied to me. Man was honest. He let me know what he was up to. Once I told him to lie to me to pretend he had his shit together. Chacho responded by saying, "Why would I do that? I am such a jerkoff I would probably screw it up."
Because of Chacho I use the words jerkoff and shade all the time. Happy Birthday Dear Heart, I hope you stole yourself a nice present and are having sex somewhere with a nice looking man who loves and adores you. Or as you once reminded me, "A man is put on this planet only to buy you presents." So maybe you man will buy you presents and go broke.
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
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