CHAPTER 8: THE FUGITIVE RECOVERY AGENT

After thirty minutes of waiting, Hernan finally showed up. I'd tried to save a seat for him at the bar, but, fifteen minutes into the wait, the small Asian owner began yelling at me.

"You're bad for business!" He screamed. "You can't save seat! You go away!"

With a little work and a little cash, I convinced him to let me stay, but had to give up the chair.

When Hernan walked in, his presence was immediately known throughout the small diner. The sheer size of the man was enough to intimidate even the hardest of gutter rats.

He had some of the broadest shoulders that a man could possess and stood at an impressive six foot ten. He was a thick man, but I wouldn't go so far as to say he was fat. There was a beer gut that had started to develop, but he was still shy of being overweight. The best way to describe him was 'solid'.

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