Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
There, up ahead, that seemed like a good person to ask. The dark-skinned child looked to be about twelve or thirteen and was hanging out on the corner, leaning against a lamppost like he had nothing to do and nowhere to be. He was dressed in a pair of shorts and a dark green T-shirt that had seen better days with a red cap on his head. Samuel caught his eye and the child grinned broadly at him in a friendly welcome.
Perfect. A nice person who could possibly point him in the right direction. If not, Samuel would give up and call for an Uber. He didn’t care if it was a short distance and a ridiculous fee. At this rate, he’d be wandering around the city until Armageddon without finding his hotel.
Argh, dammit, right. No reception on his phone. Calling for an Uber would be impossible.
Approaching, he gave the kid his friendliest smile and tried out his Portuguese. “Hello, I need directions. Can you help?”
The kid straightened, his dark eyes glinting in the sunlight. “Sim. Você tem um cigarro?”
Samuel caught exactly one word of that. He frowned in confusion. “Desculpe?”
The child held up two fingers and made a motion of bringing them to his mouth before blowing out air. “Cigarro?”
“Oh,” Samuel said in enlightment. Ah, damn, he didn’t have the vocab for this. He defaulted to English. He knew some cultures didn’t have a problem with smoking or even children smoking. It wasn’t his place to judge, but he was very grateful that he could honestly answer, “I’m sorry, I don’t smoke.”
The boy shrugged as if to say no big deal and gestured for Samuel to continue. He didn’t seem to speak much—if any—English, so Samuel settled for showing him the printed page of his hotel reservation in his folder. It was the most accurate thing he had on hand to point to where he wanted to go.
The kid studied the page for a moment and then nodded, making a noise of recognition in the back of his throat.
Well, that was promising. “Where is this?” Samuel asked in Portuguese.
The boy gestured to himself and Samuel, then pointed to the bar behind them. At this hour, it was collecting all sorts of people, the doors on either side wide open to combat the heat. Lively music poured out onto the sidewalk. Happy hour was in full swing.
Samuel had no idea why the kid was encouraging him into a bar, of all places. Or why he seemed intent for them to go together. Culture gap maybe? Was one of his parents in there?
Anyway, it wasn’t where he needed to go.
Samuel tried again using different words. At least, he hoped he was saying this sentence correctly and not muddying the waters. “I’m trying to find this hotel. Do you know where it is?”
The boy nodded, smiled, and pointed again toward the bar.
Yeah, that was not the hotel. Nowhere near it. Either Samuel himself was confusing the issue, or the boy was trying to drum up some business for the bar. In any case, this conversation was going nowhere fast.
Samuel sighed and kept hold of his patience. Internally, he felt like punching something. He shouldn’t be doing this alone. It killed him inside to even think those words after the fuss he’d made with his family just months earlier. He didn’t want them to be right about this. But maybe he should have cancelled the trip. Or postponed it. He’d rather drink acid than walk away from this completely. There was too much riding on finding answers down here.
When he’d set this goal for himself, as unrealistic as it might have seemed to others, Samuel had put everything into it. He didn’t know how to do anything else but go all in.
He’d honestly thought he could handle the first leg of the trip. Reservations were already locked in with an experienced guide for the region. That person was supposed to handle the hard parts of getting Samuel into the Brazillian forests. Surely going from the airport to his hotel wasn’t that much of a leap.
He stood corrected.
Samuel gazed about at a loss. With no phone reception, he couldn’t call for help or search for anything. Maybe the bar wasn’t too bad of an idea. He could go in there, beg a phone off someone, and call for a taxi. Or ask around and see if someone else could give him directions. Surely in a crowd that size, someone spoke better English than his poor Portuguese.
Out of nowhere, a man with a massive build appeared next to him. Judging by the deep frown on his full lips, the lines crisscrossing his brow, and his narrowed eyes, he was pissed about something. Samuel gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Dear god, he hoped this behemoth wasn’t angry at him.