“Yes, she’s single, but are you sure you’re ready for an American girl?” I asked.
“We enjoy tourist,” Luis stated.
I felt the hair go up on my neck. The way he said it made me think he wasn’t the type of boy Cassidy would like. I was wondering if I liked him, beyond some baseball practices.
“So, where would I meet a girl? Are there clubs or other places I could go?” I asked to change the subject.
“I like you, David, so let me give you some advice,” Tony said. “Jineteras are everywhere, and you choose what you want. Normal girls can’t afford to go out to clubs.”
“What’s a jineteras?” I asked.
“Whores,” Luis supplied.
I wrinkled my nose because I wasn’t really looking, and if I were, I didn’t want to spend time with a prostitute.
“When we go out to a bar to dance, almost all the girls are jineteras. You have to realize that going out isn’t cheap. The girls call themselves ‘Cuban girlfriends’ for foreigners, and they accompany lonely businessmen on tours of Cuba, escort them to dinner, and then often back to their hotels. You need to watch these girls because they will either steal from you or bleed you dry.
“What you must realize is that these women become prostitutes out of necessity, not by choice. Most of them work to survive and ensure their family’s survival. Jineterismo has become common because it takes approximately $100 a month to live comfortably in Havana, but salaries are worth a fifth of that at best.
“In Cuba, a prostitute can earn in one week the equivalent of a doctor’s annual salary paid by the state in pesos. In the tourism industry, workers make tips in dollars. But all our other jobs are paid in pesos, and salaries come from the Cuban government since the government runs all industries. Government salaries for professionals, such as professors and engineers, total close to $20 a month.
“Many establishments won’t even accept our own national currency because of its minimal value; they only accept US dollars. That makes it impossible for those who don’t work in the tourism industry to buy goods, because they don’t have any way to obtain dollars,” Tony explained.
“Basic necessities are rationed and available at affordable prices. However, the ration amounts generally last just two weeks. Most people either go without or are forced to pay outrageous prices to survive the rest of the month. Food rations have become the norm since Cuba does not produce enough food to feed the nation. And importing food is complex due to high costs and the embargo,” Luis said.
“The average family can live only if it somehow obtains dollars. You can understand why girls turn to prostitution. Even men choose to work in the tourism industry. My cousin quit being a doctor and now works as a bartender at a hotel so he can get dollars as tips,” Tony said.
“So, I need to avoid jineteras. Where would I meet a nice local girl?” I asked, now curious.
“Why would you want one?” Luis asked with a smirk.
“I haven’t had the best luck with prostitutes. Rather than hire a girl, I just want to hang out and experience what your country has to offer. I’d prefer to do it with someone that wanted to hang out and not someone trying to figure out how to get money out of me,” I said.
“I’d recommend you meet a Cuban girl during the day and then take her out at night for dancing. If I were you, I’d go to Malecón (the sea wall) or Vedado (the central business district); both are good places to start,” Tony suggested.
“Normal girls in Cuba don’t speak English. And if she does speak English, then she’s likely to be running a scam on you or is a prostitute,” Luis advised.
“What else should I look for to be safe?” I asked.
“Avoid the ‘Havana Honeymoon Surprise.’ That’s where you wake up, and all your belongings are gone! This happens with a sleepover,” Tony said.
“You guys make it sound like I’m either going to find a prostitute or get robbed.”
They both shrugged as if to say it was what it was.
“You need to worry about family members if you meet them. One of my friends got into a lot of trouble. The girl’s mother lied about her age. She turned out to be only fourteen and used her twenty-two-year-old sister’s ID,” Luis said.
“How did he not figure that out?” I asked.
“In Cuba, fourteen-year-old girls can have more piercings and tattoos than a veteran sailor. They can fool you, believe me,” Tony said.
“You need to be careful with the police. Cuba’s not like the US. If a girl is caught in the company of a tourist, even a regular girl, they may arrest her. One of my neighbors was arrested when she was caught just walking down the street with a tourist. The police also regularly raid clubs with undercover operatives to watch who girls are talking to and to question couples. When a girl visits a hotel, she is forced to register by law. That information is then sent to the police,” Luis explained.
◊◊◊
On the way back to the hotel, I asked Fritz about it. I told him about the underage problem.
“Take a picture of her and the ID on your phone. That way, you have proof she lied to you,” Fritz suggested.
I should have thought of that. That was what I’d done when I dealt with the madam in Georgia who wanted to talk to me. Even if they stole my phone, the pictures would still be in the cloud when they were backed up.
“This isn’t the States,” Fritz continued. “These people are struggling. Today when Paul and I were out looking for a dojo, I bet we were approached by thirty women.”
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“Nope. Several were very graphic in their approach, but a few didn’t give off a professional vibe.”
“I was hoping to just meet some nice girl and goof off,” I said.
It seems my definition of ‘nice girl’ and ‘goof off’ made Fritz laugh.
“Think of it as supporting the local economy. Plus, you’re only going to be here for a month,” Fritz said.
I liked my new one-eyebrow-raised look. That made Fritz laugh even harder.
“Okay, for you, I’m sure it wouldn’t take a month. Paul and I decided to just pay for it,” Fritz said and then blushed.
“How much did that cost you?” I asked, not letting him off the hook.
“Twenty bucks for the both of us.”
Ten bucks to get laid? Hell, I’d spent more on Cassidy buying her stuff. She never seemed to have the money her dad gave her handy, so I just paid for it. I might have to explain how she could work it out in trade. Then again, she could make me cry if she wanted to. Tami was right; my first instinct was never correct. Plus, Cassidy never really took advantage of me. I could afford a bottle of water or a dollar hat. If she had Brook’s or Halle’s tastes, I might have pushed back. Those girls knew how to spend money.
◊◊◊
After dinner, I was relaxing in my room when I heard a knock at the door. I opened it to find Kimberly Fillmore, my love interest in the film, standing there. She was wearing her costume from today: a gray wool pencil skirt that fell past her knees, old-style high heels, and a white turtleneck sweater. That sweater clung to her body in the best possible way. Kimberly had been over a couple of times to watch movies, but she’d never come alone.
“Can I come in?” she asked.
I stepped back to give her space to enter the room. She seemed nervous, which confused me. I’d never hit on her or said anything that would make her feel unwelcome.
When I first met her, I assumed that she was older, like most actors or actresses. I’d guessed she was twenty-two. Seeing her now, I thought she might be my age.
She took a deep breath and then turned and smiled at me. I smiled back, not knowing what else to do. My smile seemed to calm her because her smile seemed to touch her eyes now. The original one had appeared to be forced.
Kimberly’s eyes locked on mine, and she closed the gap between us. This had the feel of her seducing me. All rational thought left my mind when she kneeled in front of me and began to undo my pants. My first thought was to stop her and talk about this, but I remembered what Tami always said. Since my first thoughts were always wrong, I went with my second thought, which was just to keep my mouth shut.