Reversal of Fortune

"You can't call this in, bro," Ramon pleaded. "Whatever it takes, man, I'm good for it."

Right, I nodded. I wasn't convinced. I told him he would hear from me the next morning. Then I took the money and drove away.

Before I could even find a new parking spot, my cell phone rang. He was tailing me. "Don't call this in, bro, I'm good for it," he repeated. "I've got your number too, now."

Again, I told him the deal was simple: If he was good for the money, there would be no problem. "Okay. I'm good for it; you've got my word," he said, and clicked off.

Five minutes later, Ramon called again, and said the same thing.

The next day I took the car to a dealership in the west metro that I had dealt with before. I knew one guy in the body shop, and I emphasized that this was a cash deal, no insurance. Keep the bill low. I tried to save Ramon a little money.

The guys in the shop agreed that my car would need a new door, which would cost $400. That and the rest of the repair would run me $1,600.

I hadn't really thought that $500 wouldn't cover it. Angry and desperate, I dialed Ramon on my cell phone from the dealership. Someone picked up on the other end.

"Tommy," I said. Nothing. "Ramon?" Silence. "This is the guy whose car you hit yesterday."

"Oh, yeah, bro, what's up?" came the response. He sounded friendly. I told him the total of the estimate, and that he owed me $1,100.

"That's cool," he said. "Where do you want to meet?"

I was stunned. I never thought I'd actually speak to the guy again, let alone see him. And he was going to give me more money? He didn't even want to see the estimate. I suggested we meet at the site of the accident. Ramon said he wasn't going back there. I was worried that I'd have to meet him at his house or apartment. But I needed the money. Finally, he said, "How about the Spyhouse?"

"The coffee shop on Nicollet?" Was this guy serious?

"Yeah, I like that place," Ramon answered. "I'll meet you there right now." Okay, a public place. I told him I'd be there in 30 minutes.

I parked my car a few blocks away from the coffee shop, and walked in exactly a half-hour after the phone call. I found no sign of him. I grabbed a community newspaper and pretended to read it at a table inside. It was a clear and warm day, and most patrons were on the sidewalk outdoors. I was afraid that he wasn't going to show up. I was also afraid that he would show up--with friends--and settle our account through unsavory means.

After 15 minutes, I called Ramon again. He said he was on his way. Five minutes later, I saw him on the sidewalk. I watched him pull out his cell phone to call me, but I ignored the ring and walked up behind him instead. Ramon smiled and shook my hand--an awkward soul shake of some sort.

We walked inside. Ramon took the first open table, which was near the front and open to the rest of the room. He asked for the pen from my shirt pocket, and counted out five $20 bills. He would repeat this 10 times, each time marking a line on the edge of the newspaper I had.

I said I never thought I'd see him again. He answered without pausing: "I told you I was good for it, bro." Flipping through so much cash in public made me nervous. I asked him if he was from Iowa, which drew a quizzical look. I told him the area code on his cell phone was from eastern Iowa.

"No, bro," he chuckled, "I ain't from Iowa."

For whatever reason, I told him I knew some people in Iowa anyway.

I kept folding up the wads of twenties and stuffing them in the pocket of my shorts. Ramon stopped at $1,000. "Look, bro, I'm a little light," he said. "Can you float me the extra hundred today?"

I looked at him. "Ramon, I think we're good, bro."

As we got up, I asked him if there would be any funny shit outside the coffee shop. "No, no, no, man. We're cool." He told me he was a record producer. I told him I was a musician.

"Oh yeah?" Ramon said, arching an eyebrow. "You want some ganj, bro?"

I declined, thinking the money was probably enough for one day. Then we did another soul shake. We said we'd see each other around, but we knew we wouldn't. And I think we were both, in our own way, glad about that fact. Our 24-hour moment was over.