Chapter 2

They were running a bit later than Flora preferred, so she helped Romi quickly change clothes in the next room, then she asked Henry to drive her car so she could focus her attention on brushing the little one’s hair while they traveled to Jorge’s restaurant.

“We go to see Tio Jorge?” Romi asked, excited.

“That’s right, mija,” Flora answered, doing her best to not get frustrated with Romi’s inability to sit still. For the rest of the ride, Henry could hear Romi making little wacka-wacka noises. It didn’t bother him, but he did find it odd. Like all children with long hair, Romi had somehow found a way to magically create rat nests in her otherwise flowing black hair. The young mother worked without complaint on a couple of those knots while Henry drove cautiously, protecting the cargo of mother and child that rode in the back seat.

When they arrived, Jorge removed his apron and emerged from the kitchen to hug each of them, focusing his affection on little Romi. Immediately, the girl pulled him down so she could ‘whisper’ something to him. She hadn’t figured out whispering yet, so it’s likely that everyone in the dining room heard her clearly - she wanted a quarter to play Pac Man. Henry finally understood the noises Romi had been making during the drive over.

Jorge made a production of searching his pockets for a coin to give her, playfully teasing her the entire time. In Spanish, even their familial joshing seemed more musical than the language Henry had been raised with. Finally, Jorge surrendered two quarters to the tyke, and she went running as fast as her short legs would take her toward the slightly-battered Pac Man cabinet that occupied an otherwise dark corner near the bar. Clearly, the girl was too short to reach the controls, but it wasn’t her first rodeo – she knew exactly how to fix that.

For the next minute or more, she loudly scooted and maneuvered an empty bar stool across the wooden floor to the machine. Once it was in place, she climbed up and planted her butt on the seat. She exhaled loudly, proud of the epic effort she’d just displayed, then she dropped the first quarter into the machine. The adults watched Romi play for a few moments, then turned their attention back to each other. And even though there were at least a dozen other diners present, no one felt that the child needed to be watched carefully – they were in Jorge’s place, after all. And in such a small town, everybody seemed to know everybody else anyway.

“So, Jorge, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I have to ask about something.” Henry started.

“Okay, shoot,” Jorge said while motioning for Henry to continue.

“When I met you the first time, you were worried that I was working for ... you know who...”

Jorge nodded. “Inmigración,” he added as a whisper.

“Well, are you ... ya’ know ... in danger if they come around?” Henry asked, as delicately as he knew how.

Flora’s eyes bugged out, “No, no, no, no!”

Jorge chuckled at his sister’s reaction. “No, seńor. We were all born in this country. I was born in El Paso, Flora was born in Laredo, and little Romi was obviously born right here, in Cactus. And all my employees have their green cards, so they’re fine too. But I have a lot of friends who are ... less than legal, you could say. So I like to be alert for them, you know?”

Henry nodded and smiled, “Looking out for your neighbors ... that’s exactly the kind of thing I would expect from my new amigo.”

Soon, the feast that Jorge had begun preparing hours before was brought to the table. Flora had to pull Romi away from her video game long enough to eat, but aside from that, no other drama unfolded. They enjoyed a relaxed, far-reaching conversation while the spicy food made their taste buds happy and their tummies full.

When they were done eating, Jorge had some drinks brought to the table and he politely sent Romi back to visit Pac Man, armed with a handful of quarters. He asked Flora to accompany the little one so he could speak privately with Henry.

“Enrique,” he began. “Listen, you already know that I like you. You seem like a good hombra. This whole thing is more of a tradition, you know? So Flora can feel safe meeting a guy because she knows I’ll be there to say no if he seems a little ... how you say, incompleto ... sketchy ... yes, that’s right. If he seems sketchy, then Flora knows that I’ll kick his culo if he doesn’t leave her alone. So, I’m really more like ... the goalkeeper.” He laughed loudly and slapped Henry on the back. “But you’re okay, I think. Just make sure that you never hurt Flora or little Romi and I won’t have to kick your ass,” he smiled again.

The meaning wasn’t lost on Henry. Jorge was very protective of his family, and rightly so. Though it might have seemed curious to anyone else, hearing Jorge gently threaten Henry. After all, Henry was over six feet tall. And to an unfamiliar bystander, he still looked to be the same condition he had been when playing collegiate football. Jorge, on the other hand, was about 5’9” and had a body that showed that he loved the food he made in his cocina.

Once again, he felt that he needed to remind someone of his plans to leave town. “Listen, I’ve already told Flora, but you should also know that my current work plans have me leaving sometime within the next week or so. I’m crazy about Flora, but I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to stick around.”

Jorge nodded. “Flora told me this also,” he shrugged. “Just be careful and make sure you don’t make promises that you can’t keep – especially with Romi. She’s little, you know. And as much as I love mi hermana, at the end of the day, she’s a big girl. But you better believe I will come at you with every gun and knife I can find if you hurt little Romi.” His face made it clear that his threats were no longer gentle ... he meant every word.

Henry extended his hand to Jorge. “Thank you for your trust, mi amigo. I will do everything I can to never give you a reason to want to try fighting me.” With that, they laughed, and each took a shot of tequila.

When the girls returned, they laughed and talked for a little while longer. Then, Flora announced that it was getting close to Romi’s bedtime, so adios hugs were shared.

While sharing her hug with Jorge, Flora asked him to babysit Romi the following night. He smirked and nodded. “Anytime.”

Since there was no sitter waiting at home, Flora dropped off Henry at his motel before heading home with Romi. The little one was already beginning to nod off in her car seat, her head rolling to the side occasionally in a move that made it seem too heavy for her neck. But as soon as the car stopped at the motel, she was wide awake again. Henry got out of the front passenger seat and opened the back door, so he could lean down enough for Romi to hug him from her belted-in position. After that, he leaned through the driver’s window and shared a brief kiss with Flora.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Henry promised.

“You better,” she gave him a wink and then drove away.

Henry laid awake in his motel room. He couldn’t force the memory of Flora’s lovely face to fade from his mind. On top of that, she had casually pressed herself against him so many times while they’d been at Jorge’s, he could still almost feel her breasts pressing into him, squashing their weight into his side. The pièce de résistance, however, was that he could still smell her scent on him. Somehow, her delicate perfume had infiltrated his clothing and the tiny hairs inside his nose, allowing him to keep the memory of her even fresher. When he began to imagine what she’d look like naked, his weighty wang woke up and twitched several times. And when he imagined what her nude form would feel like pressed into him, writhing on him, his cock began to lurch.

From experience, Henry knew that his only course of action was to rub one out - it would be nearly impossible for him to fall asleep while his dick spasmed and left puddles of precum on his abdomen. He got out of bed long enough to grab a large bath towel from the stack in the bathroom. Then, after laying them it out flat to cover a large portion of the carpet, he removed his boxers and sat on the edge of the bed. At that point, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, pulling in the lingering aroma of Flora’s perfume as he grabbed his rigid rod and began stroking.

Her leftover scent fueled his lust nearly as much as the imagined images flashing in his brain. After only 5 minutes or so, he could feel his balls beginning to tighten and tingle, signaling the inevitable. Before long, he felt the first jet of jizz begin racing up his stupendous shaft. He quickly aimed his priapic pecker downward, toward the towels on the floor and released a torrent of tacky tally whacker sauce. A veritable maelstrom of man mess that quickly covered the majority of the towel with enough volume to dampen the carpet beneath it. He continued to jerk his meat downward in long strokes, milking the cream of his loins directly onto the sodden towel. “Oh ... that’s much better,” Henry said to himself. “Whew! I was a bit backed up, apparently.” Once his tremors dissipated, Henry took another moment to catch his breath before tidying up.

Grabbing a clean towel from the stack, he wadded the soiled item inside it and rolled the whole mess into a soggy ball, placing it on the floor in a corner of the bathroom. “When I get dressed in the morning, I’ll take that mess to the dumpster behind the building,” he thought. “If the motel wants to charge me for the extra towels, that’s fine. Better that than some poor unsuspecting maid having to deal with a wad of my crusty jizz. Plus, I don’t really like the idea of those towels getting washed and then put back in my room. What if I ended up using it when I got out of the shower? Gross.”

Not long after, Henry’s mind quieted enough for him to fall asleep. If he had any dreams, they were gone when he awoke, evaporated with the warmth of sunrise.

Though he’d only had a few hours rest, he felt fully refreshed when he rose. After a quick shower, he dressed in comfortable warm weather attire, tossed the crusty jizz towels in a plastic bag with the rest of the trash from his room, and took the collection to the dumpster behind the motel building. He remembered Jorge mentioning that the restaurant was always open on weekend mornings, so he made his way that direction.

“Enrique!” Jorge welcomed with a shout. He pulled Henry into a quick bear hug, then pointed him to an open seat at the bar. “Busy today. But you can sit up there, if you want.”

After a quick scan of the dining area, he could see that Jorge hadn’t been exaggerating – the place was packed! Henry shrugged and said, “Fine by me.”

“So, gringo, what do you want to eat? Today, we have pancita ... erm ... Menudo. Eh? How’s that sound?”

“I can honestly say that I’ve never tried it before,” Henry replied. “But if you made it, then I’d like to.”

“Excelente!” Jorge answered and returned to the kitchen. Not long after, one of the employees placed some cutlery and an ice-cold beer in front of Henry.

“I didn’t order this,” Henry politely informed the worker, who simply smiled and pointed toward the kitchen. Clearly, Jorge had assumed Henry needed a little hair of the dog. “It’s only a quarter to nine in the morning...” Henry muttered to himself, “who’s drinking at this hour?” Then, realizing he might have been speaking loud enough for others to hear, he looked around guiltily. Even with only quick scan, it was clear that most of the adults in the dining area had a beer in front of them as well. Henry shrugged and took a pull of the beer that sat on the bar in front of him. That first swig was not pleasant. The lingering minty flavor of his toothpaste did not combine well at all with a beverage made of hops and barley. Suppressing a slight gag, he muscled through it and downed another large swig. Before long, he’d emptied that first bottle and asked for another. “These folks are onto something,” Henry thought, “Saturday morning beers are a tradition I could get behind.”

Along with his second beer, the same kitchen assistant / waiter as before brought him a bowl of steaming spiciness. It smelled ... curious. Not bad, but certainly stranger than Henry’s sheltered palate had tried before. There were two things that made Henry grab his spoon and take the first bite; One, his stomach had been growling since he’d awakened. And two, he trusted that anything from Jorge’s kitchen would be wonderful. So, he took the first, and then a second bite. That’s when his gringo brain began to revolt a bit. The squeaky chewiness of the meat in the dish was so undesirable to Henry that he barely swallowed those first two spoonfuls without retching.

With as much aplomb as he could muster, he put down the spoon, pushed the bowl away from him, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and began chugging the fresh beer, if only to forget the sensation of that ... whatever it was.

Only a few minutes later, Jorge came from the kitchen and made his rounds through the dining area, smiling, hugging, shaking hands, ruffling children’s hair. He was a man built to entertain other people, and he was clearly happiest when other people were enjoying the creations birthed in his cocina. Eventually, he made his way back to the bar and Henry. When he saw the barely touched dish in front of his amigo, he flashed a bright and brief smile. “So, mi amigo blanco, it seems your gringo tastebuds don’t like my cooking after all,” he chuckled.

Henry was sincerely concerned that he’d insulted Jorge. “No, no, that’s not it. I mean, I really like the way the soup tastes, I do. The red chili sauce and the hominy corn and all that, it’s really good. But whatever meat is in there, it just...”

“Tripe,” Jorge said.

“ ... it’s ... wait, what?” Henry asked

“Tripe,” Jorge repeated. “It’s beef tripe. You know, cow’s stomach.”

“Yeah. That,” Henry nodded. “I’m sorry, amigo. But I just can’t get past the way it squeaks when I chew it. And it’s so rubbery that you have to chew it a lot!”

Jorge let out a laugh that started in his belly, shaking his whole body. “Yes. You are right ... very chewy. But it is the best food for breakfast when you have a hangover.”

“Then, I guess it’s too bad I’m not hungover,” Henry countered.

“What?” Jorge asked, incredulously. “But we had tequila last night, after dinner! I thought all white boys got a hangover after tequila.”

“Not with only two shots, my friend,” Henry replied with a smile.

“Seré condenada...” Jorge muttered. “I suppose it’s true – you learn something new every day. But hey, next time you want to try my Menudo, just remind me and I’ll take out the beef pieces for you. I think you’ll like it better that way.”

“That sounds very good,” Henry replied. “But for today, my stomach is growling at me, so how ‘bout some eggs instead?”

“Huevos rancheros, una orden!” He bellowed happily.

“Ya viene!” they heard an answering shout from the kitchen.

With that, Jorge took the mostly-untouched bowl of Menudo away from Henry and disappeared into the kitchen. It seemed like only a minute later that a new plate was placed in front of Henry, along with new utensils. What Henry saw on the plate was the single most beautiful presentation of two fried eggs he’s ever witnessed. Placed atop two fresh, warm corn tortillas, the over-easy eggs were slathered with a red chili salsa. The combination of the visual along with the mouth-watering aromas made Henry’s tummy begin anxiously rumbling, demanding that he begin shoveling in the goods pronto. Purposely taking his time, Henry savored the first several bites. Everything about the dish was immaculately cooked and presented. So much so, that Henry quickly scarfed down the rest of it, using the last little bit of tortilla to sop up the runny egg yolk from the plate.

He ordered one more beer and slowly sipped it while allowing his breakfast to digest. An employee turned on the television for coverage of the first of the day’s many fútbol matches.

Henry made his way back to the motel and called Flora, who was thrilled to hear from him. To him, it almost seemed like she might have some self-esteem issues of her own, since she appeared to be completely surprised that he’d kept his promise by calling her.

“It’s so good to hear from you. Romi has been babbling about you all morning,” Flora informed him.

He chuckled. “You mean she finally stopped making ‘wacka-wacka’ sounds?”

She laughed. “Oh yeah. She only does that when she knows we’re going to Jorge’s, ‘cause he spoils her and lets her play that game for hours.”

“Speaking of which,” Henry said, “I just came from breakfast over there. And I must say that I’ve learned something ... I do not care for Menudo.”

Her small giggles became roaring laughs. “Were you hungover? That’s when it’s the best.”

He shook his head, as if she could see him. “That’s exactly what your brother said. But no, I felt fine. Well, I felt fine before-hand. And just like I told Jorge, I really do like the taste, but the texture ... ugh ... the tripe is so ... blech.” He shuddered with the memory of the squeaky, rubbery stuff. “But he told me that he’ll take the tripe out for me next time. I think I might actually like it then ... we’ll see. Anyway, what are you two up to today?” Henry asked.

“I was thinking of taking Romi to the park. Ya’ know, let her run around on the playground, maybe feed the ducks. That should tire her out some while you and I make our plans for tonight. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds wonderful. Do I have time to take a quick nap first? I’m pretty full from the huevos racheros and a few beers.”

“Your timing is perfect,” Flora said. “I have to put Romi down for her nap in a bit. And to tell you the truth, I didn’t get much sleep last night. So, I think I’ll take a nap too. How about we pick you up about ... two hours from now?”

“Wonderful,” Henry answered.

“See you then,” she said before ending the call.

Fearing he’d oversleep, Henry called the front desk and asked for a wakeup call. Then, to his delight, he fell asleep quickly after, dozing deeply until the phone rang with his prearranged alarm. He’d rested well for almost 90 minutes. With a renewed vigor, he chose to quickly shower again and toss on some clean clothes. Then, he waited outside, sipping on a cold soda to offset the blistering heat of the afternoon.

Unsurprisingly, it took Flora a little longer to get there than planned, since she not only had to get herself ready, but she also had to wrangle Romi’s little body out of bed and into clean clothes. By the time she drove her car into the motel parking lot, they were both as pretty as a picture and beaming with smiles. As he saw Flora’s grin through the glare on the windshield, Henry began to feel lighter. When he saw little Romi’s smile and wildly gesticulating arm from in the backseat, he returned her waving action excitedly. He could hear Romi’s giggles even over the noise of passing automobiles. Walking to the driver’s window, he leaned in and briefly kissed Flora, who seemed to hum her happiness when their lips touched. Then, after opening the back door, he leaned in enough for Romi to hug him, squeezing his neck tightly. Once the greetings were completed, he hopped in the passenger seat, and they made their way to a city park on the other side of town.

There was a large pond, where a collection of ducks where lazily spending the hottest part of the day. As soon as Romi was freed from her car seat, she grabbed the index finger of Henry’s right hand and pulled him toward the water. Once there, she began pointing excitedly and laughing. While she pointed the assortment of mallards occasionally dabbled or up-ended themselves to feed, which delighted Romi to no end. “Duck butts!” she said loudly, then began laughing even louder. Before long, she lost interest in the ducks and their butts, instead focusing on the playground, to which she redirected Henry, pulling him along by one finger.

Once there, she chose a swing and hiked herself up into the seat. Then, with a look that screamed “Well, what are you waiting for?”, she stared at Henry. “Vamos! Empujar! Push me, please?” the little one demanded, then pled. Henry took his spot behind her and after warning her to hold on tight, he pushed gently on the small of her back, propelling the swing. Starting slow, then slowly building until she had reached the limits of her daring, Henry pushed Romi on the swing for quite a while. After, she informed him that his presence would be required on the seesaw. There, he did the work for both ends, since there was no way her tiny body would allow her to compete with his in weighing down one end of the play structure. So, he used his legs to push up just barely hard enough on his own end where her feet would touch the ground and she’d give a mighty push at the same moment his own weight took over and drew his end back to the ground. Over and over, they repeated this action while Romi giggled. When she’d had her fill of the seesaw, she motioned for Henry to lean down so she could hug him again. Then, she informed him that Flora needed attention.

“I’m gonna go on the slide. I don’t need your help anymore, Enrique. You should go sit with Momma.”

Henry shrugged and smiled, “If you say so,” before joining Flora at a nearby picnic table. “I thought I was in pretty good shape,” he said to Flora, “but I might need to start working out again, just to keep up with her.” The two chuckled.

“You know, she’s crazy about you,” Flora said.

He blushed a tiny bit. Not knowing how else to respond, he simply said, “She’s a sweet girl.”

“Yeah,” Flora said. “It’s gonna make things hard for me to breakup with you when the next good-lookin’ stud comes to town.” She had a mischievous smirk on her face, which Henry noticed right away. He countered in the first way that came to mind - he started tickling her. First, her sides. Then, as she’d move her arms to try blocking him, he’d attack her armpits. Her musical laughter rolled across the park. Though there were very few other families in the area at the time, they all looked over to see the cause of commotion. After a couple minutes of tickle torture, Flora convinced Henry to stop. Then, she leaned over and kissed him briefly, but warmly.

After she’d regained her composure, she said, “So, I don’t suppose you know how to two-step, do ya’?”

Henry shook his head. “‘fraid not. I’ve only tried dancing to country music a couple times, and the last time, they had to close the club to repair the damage,” he joked. “Thankfully, only three people were hospitalized that night. But at least it wasn’t as traumatic as the first time. Trust me, you don’t want to know the details.” He tried valiantly, but couldn’t keep his poker face, so a grin appeared.

She punched his arm playfully. “But seriously, can you two-step, or am I gonna have to teach you?”

“I guess you’ll have to teach me, ‘cause while I might have been joking about the damage ... and how many people were hospitalized, I’ve never actually tried to dance to country music,” he informed her.

“Never?” she asked, unsure if he was still kidding.

He held up his right hand. “Honest. I mean, I’ve been in plenty of bars that played country, but I’ve never danced. To be honest, I’m not crazy about country music, at least the new stuff. I kinda like some of the ‘outlaw’ stuff. Ya’ know, Willie and Waylon and that whole gang.”

She nodded. “Would you like to go dancing with me tonight, handsome? I’ll be glad to teach you to two-step, if you’ll promise to only dance with me.”

He smiled larger. Just for an instant, his body felt semi-weightless again. “I would be honored.”

After that, Flora called Romi over so they could spend some time tossing frozen peas to the ducks on the pond. “Huh ... you’ve been keeping a bag of frozen peas in your purse this whole time? I’m almost afraid to ask what else you’re hiding in there,” he chuckled. “But seriously, why not just feed them some old, stale bread?” Henry asked.

The little girl educated Henry. “Enrique,” she said, as if patiently talking to an idiot. “Bread is bad for the ducks. But peas are good for the ducks.”

“Huh,” Henry shrugged, “I didn’t know that.”

“Uh-huh, and watch,” Romi continued, while throwing a small fistful of peas near the ducks. “They go down to eat the peas and they stick their butts in the air!” The feeding fowl followed her directions, which brought a new round of whole-body giggling.

After a couple of sweltering hours in the summer sun, Romi began to get irritable and tired. Henry could understand the way she felt. Though not irritable, he was looking forward to finding some air-conditioning. Soon.

Eventually, they all loaded back into Flora’s car and made their way to Henry’s motel. He and Flora agreed that she would pick him up around 8pm for their date. Before then, she would get herself and Romi ready for a night out. Then, she’d drop off Romi at Jorge’s before coming to get him. Hugs and kisses were shared all around before Henry got out of the car and they continued with their day.

Since it wasn’t even 5pm yet, Henry decided he would to go to Jorge’s and enjoy the air-conditioned bar, along with a few beverages. He had plenty of time to get ready to meet Flora, after all. And he did exactly that. After a perfunctory hello was shared with Jorge, he sat on a free bar stool and ordered an ice-cold cerveza. There, he relaxed for the next couple hours. Still baffled with popularity of a sport where so little scoring occurred, he began to get more emotionally involved with the fútbol games on the bar television. He found himself joining some fellow patrons in their complaints about players who flopped, faking their injuries. Moreover, he felt he was beginning to see it as more than just a collection of 20 people who loved jogging. “I just might get to a point where I enjoy watching this,” he thought.

After a couple hours of jovial banter with his fellow patrons, primarily about fútbol, Henry went back to his motel. The combination of the day’s heat, along with several beers gave him a pleasantly drowsy feeling. He figured he would take another short nap and then get ready for an evening with Flora, which is exactly what he did.

“Sorry,” Henry said after offering her a hello kiss and jumping in the passenger seat of her car. “I don’t have any cowboy boots. These will have to suffice.” He pointed down at his feet, clad in comfortable leather loafers, sans socks. When he’d been getting dressed, he once again realized that his wardrobe was limited. He wanted to look nice for Flora, so that left only two options; One was a dark suit he could wear with dressy black shoes that made his feet hurt a bit. The other option was a light tan summer suit that seemed to fit the climate far better. He correctly thought that his soft tan loafers would pair well. And they had the added benefit of being comfortable.

So, unintentionally doing his best Miami Vice impersonation, he tossed on a lightweight, but crisply starched, white dress shirt. He chose to eschew a tie, leaving the collar unbuttoned. After donning the full outfit, he checked himself in the mirror, preening with his hair a tad. “Not bad at all,” he thought. The tan suit and loafers paired so well that he had surprised himself with his temporary fashion sense.

Flora smiled and affected a voice that was a cross between her mother tongue and a stereotypical southern belle. “My oh my, I do declare. Te ves tan guapo, Enrique!” she said while fanning her face with a mocking and animated swooning motion. It brought laughter from them both.

“So,” Flora got serious for a moment, “I need to know which place you want to go dancing.”

“Wherever you like is fine with me,” he answered honestly.

“Well, one of the places is more ... um ... well, let’s just say it’s a predominantly white crowd, okay? And the other place I like is more of a mixture, but a lot more Mexicans.”

“Which is your favorite?”

She scrunched her shoulders upward just a tiny bit, looking at him as if she felt guilty. “To be honest, I prefer ‘Botas’, the one with more Mexicans.” She began to gesticulate wildly. “Don’t get the wrong idea! I’m not prejudice or anything, I promise. But they play more of the music I like. Plus, you said you didn’t really like country music so much. And at Botas, they play some pop-country stuff, but they also play lots of Tejano music. That way, you might enjoy it more.”

Henry leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I need to say several things before we move from this spot. First, you look even more amazing than normal. To know that you want to go anywhere on my arm makes me feel like the luckiest man ever.” She did, in fact, look ravishing. She’d chosen a lightweight, sleeveless, maroon dress. The bust was loose, blousy, without showing extra skin while the lower hem line hit the backs of her knees. He could already imagine how the skirt would flare and whirl around her form if she were tempted to twirl. She’d pair a lovely, but simple pair of 2-inch heels to cover her dainty feet. She’d obviously worked hard on getting her hair arranged just the way she wanted, transforming her long, black, flowing hair with some curls and body. And in the way that only women can achieve, she’d meticulously applied her makeup in such a way that it almost appeared she wore none at all – a feat in itself. Henry was reminded of a phrase he’d read many years before; “she looked prettier than found money.”