“You have a golf scholarship?”
“Had. Dropped out. Partied too much.”
He laughed. “Good for business. The river is 250 meters wide. You can do it?”
“Sure. Where’s the balls?”
“Hidden under the chickens, in case anybody comes sniffing around.”
“I’m not into danger, I just need some cash. My girlfriend’s in a no-holds-barred bare-knuckle sparring match. I need betting money.”
“Impressive. Maybe I should hire her too.”
I cracked him with the club the second he turned around. Hire my girlfriend? She planned this whole thing.
Fox in the hen house, Colombia pure in the balls.
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