Juan stayed at Jaime's house for lunch and enjoyed a fine meal. He preferred the way his wife made chiles rellenos, but these were pretty good. He told Jaime about his full-time job at the metal fabrication company and how he'd come to do part-time election work through his connections with his Uncle Pablo.
“I made a deal with my boss to work on the weekends so I could take a couple days off during the week to do this,” he waved at his tablet and satchel case. “I don’t have to work too hard, and the money is pretty good. Plus, it gives me a little more time to spend with my wife.”
This last comment drew a small smile and a silent nod of approval from Jaime’s wife, who was cleaning up in the kitchen.
“What about you, Jaime?” Juan asked. “What are you doing home in the middle of the day?”
Jaime was coming around from the open door of his refrigerator. He held two beers. “Oh, I’m too old now for working,” he said. “I’ve got a couple of rentals that I manage. You want a Modelo?” He held one of the beers out for Juan.
Juan accepted and leaned back for a sip. “Rentals?”
"Yeah, I got a couple of houses over there," Jaime waved his arm in a vaguely eastward direction.
Juan considered this for a minute. “How many renters you got?”
“I’ve got four houses,” Jaime replied, taking a sip from his own beer.
Juan shook his head, "No, I mean, how many people do you have living in them, total?"
Jaime’s eyebrows arched up. “Total? You mean kids too?”
“Anyone over eighteen,” Juan clarified.
Jaime and his wife consulted with each other for a few minutes. His wife seemed particularly skilled at listing all the complex relationships between husbands, wives, adult children, and their boyfriends and girlfriends. For his part, Jaime seemed surprised to learn about who was living in the houses he owned. As they talked, Jaime counted on his fingers. Finally, he turned back to Juan, “Oh I don’t know, maybe about twenty people.”
Juan smiled conspiratorially, “They’re worth two hundred dollars each to sign them up to vote,” he said. “I can show you how to do it.”
Jaime’s jaw dropped. He started counting on his fingers again. “Mother of God,” he breathed. “That’s four thousand dollars.”
"We don't have to tell them that," Juan said with a wink. "We could just tell them their ballots are only worth one hundred dollars each. You could get the rest.”