An Errand by Angelo R. Lacuesta

Follow Moroy as he embarks on a late-night errand for his employer, Sir. Read about his thoughts on money, his employer, and the pretty girl in the office. 'An Errand' is a short story by Angelo R. Lacuesta.

106
It was the sense of hearing that came to him first, bringing
a low, insistent, a drone rising and dipping like the waves
up with on Samal Island. Skimming above the waves was
voice, saying ser, ser, ser.
Moroy swung his arm up and opened his eyes to look at his
3 a.m. It was also his way of checking if it hadn’t been stolen. B
luminous hands and the starry black dial, delivering that girl’s v
a boy who looked like he was still in high school. Pebrero—said
on his security guard’s uniform—lightly rapped his knuckles on h
though he were a timid night janitor knocking on the door to the
CR.
There were seven other men in the room, drivers and mind
ple of them he knew by face and name. The sound of the sea wa
of their snoring, their breaths coming hard and stale through all
their throats. He was not on Samal Island. He felt an ache in his
and he knew he must have been snoring, too.
Whoever thought of putting Pebrero on the night shift must
ing an inside job, Moroy thought, as he put on his shirt-jack. Wh
Sir possibly want at this hour?
He inhaled audibly as he walked past the boy, who was tex
his phone. He was the only staff at the drivers’ dormitory. His on
it seemed, besides picking up the rare landline call and turning
An Errand
Angelo R. Lacuesta

1 0 7
check-ins, was to switch on the low-watt evening light in the en
switch off everything else, the TV and the aircon in the lobby. H
possibly keep the drunks and the girls away.
Outside, the air had dipped into the further cold of d
put a hand in his pants and squeezed the button on the car key
another button and the engine started, making a sound softer t
sound of snoring that still hung in the air.
The hotel was a five-minute drive from the drivers’ dormito
windshield was wet. His headlights probed the fog. His wipers w
When he drove up to the entrance, Sir was already there, shuffl
top step, the lobby guard by his arm. He was dressed in the go
shorts he had worn that morning when they drove up from Man
Moroy pressed the window switch. Sir spoke into the gap a
it appeared.
“Kunin mo yung t-shirt kong Givenchy, yung may Mona Lis
sign sa harap,” he said. “Alam mo ‘yung Mona Lisa? Yung paint
vre ‘yun, ‘yung museum sa Paris. Isang araw dalhin kita dun. B
naka-smile.” He smiled without showing his teeth when he said
mean, hindi mo alam kung naka-smile o hinde, kunin mo ‘yun,
dito.”1
“Sa kotse ba sir?2”
“Hindi. Sa bahay.3”
“Sa bahay—sa Maynila, sir?”
“Oo. Sa Maynila.”
“Yes sir.” Moroy blinked as he said it, perhaps a little bit lo
he should have.
“Ayos. Nga pala, isama mo na rin yung medicine pou
maliit, sa loob ng drawer dun sa tabi ng kama. Sa side ko, ha, h
kay Norma.”4
1 “Get my Givenchy t-shirt, the one with the Mona Lisa design on the front,” sir said
the Mona Lisa? The painting. It’s in the Louvre, that museum in Paris. One day I’ll br
It’s a girl, smiling.” He showed his teeth when he saidsmile. “I mean, you don’t know if she’s smiling
or not, get it, bring it here.”
2 “Is it in the car?”
3 “No, it’s at home.”
4 “Great. By the way, bring along my medicine pouch, the small one in the bedside
not Norma’s.”

108
It was time-consuming, it was expensive, and it all seemed
ly unnecessary, but by the time Sir had finished his sentence Mo
completely accepted the project.
“Yessir.”
He knew that shirt. He knew what meant: Brenda. The girl t
him that shirt. The girl he often took home personally from his o
night, speaking to her loudly so the security guards and the othe
could hear that her place was conveniently on the way to theirs
a complete lie. Brenda lived with her mother and her grandmothth
street in Cubao, which was, on mostly any given hour of the day
two or three hours away from Legaspi Village. If they were lucky
times there was dinner, or a few drinks, on the way to dropping
Moroy never really thought anything of these occasions.
Brenda was easily the prettiest one in the office. She had a
her, but Moroy was OK with a little bit of fat. He liked some fat o
sometimes. He found it sexy that a girl would allow herself to le
bit. She would not be a thin woman on the way to being fat, or e
versa; she would be a woman who didn’t care, or acted like she
Brenda had something like that. From behind he saw a little
and a lump, low on her hips, right where she wore the waistline
and her skirts, like she was made of soft, flesh-colored clay and
took another lump of clay, rolled it into his hands, and slapped i
her little body, massaging it half-heartedly until it only partly me
her flesh. It made her look a little clumsy, a little careless. But it
than just fuck-what-the-boys-think fat. This was teen fat. Growin
She had just graduated from college and this was her first job. M
ured that she was too young to know why she took it in the first
also at just the right age to trust her instincts.
He held Sir’s gaze as the car window closed. He was
He’d never slept. She was probably in his room, playing in a bat
heated water, playing with the bubbles, brushing them off with
when they threatened to grow larger.
Baguio was still very dark at a little past 3 a.m., and the gla
hotel’s overdone lighting in the mirror made everything else eve
The fog had grown thicker. If he was going to make it fast he wa
have to take Kennon Road, which was full of twists and banks, b

1 0 9
going to be a real thrill.
The hotel lights disappeared and there was nothing but fog
him and behind him. Moroy couldn’t really tell what Brenda loo
from the driver’s seat. She had ridden along dozens of times—e
on those times she needed to go somewhere for work and she
like taking a cab that day. But she always sat behind him. The r
senger’s seat was always Sir’s place. He couldn’t even smell he
the way he smelled the other staff ’s whenever they rode with
ing. Brenda was too young for perfume. Knowing it was Brenda
gift of the t-shirt especially touching. He kind of knew how muc
t-shirts must have cost. He’d made it an unconscious habit to s
at the receipts stapled to the shopping bags Sir and Ma’am left
Those Givenchy shirts—he couldn’t even pronounce it—most pr
cost more than a thousand.
Brenda was a college graduate, sure, and it was a B.S. in b
she didn’t graduate from Ateneo, or La Salle, or UP, or abroad,
friends did. She had graduated from the rival school of Moroy’s
lege. A school with something like 70,000 students. He himself
graduated, and the reasons had softened and blended into eac
the many years until what remained was his own self-resentme
surely must have been a pretty good reason for it, and money w
only reason he could think of.
She obviously didn’t make very much; he was sure e
more money than she did, but her family could obviously afford
graduate. And although her credentials and her transcript were
get her hired by someone like Sir, from here on, it would be he
would take care of the rest. “Ang kagandahan ay puhunan5,” they would say
at the office.
That didn’t subtract from her strong points, or from Sir’s. H
businessman. Though Moroy couldn’t really put a finger on wha
for a living, he figured out that he was pretty good at what he d
respected in his field. That accounted for his money and his po
nections. But it was mostly luck that Moroy could count on to e
fact that this fine looking chick would allow him to get near her
5 “Beauty is capital”

110
He was on Kennon now, barreling through the zigzag like he
ing a motorcycle instead of a Land Cruiser. The bulletproof cladd
it heavier and faster. If this was a test, he was going to pass it.
“Sinusubukan niyo ba ako?6” was his trademark line. He had picke
it up from President Erap back in the day. Moroy remembered th
had left 77,800 in cash in a tightly rubber-banded envelope in th
compartment. When he returned it to him the next morning the
the very words he used on his employer, in half-jest: “ser, sinus
ba ako?” It was his turn to test him. He wanted to know if he cou
that to his face. Sir laughed, but Moroy thought he had laughed
hard. There was something else there.
unhealthy, and he was beginning to get a little worrie
speed and his strength, but maybe it gave him a kind of stability
ning top.
He thought about money on the stretch between Kennon to
sinan, right before the roads gave way to the new expressway t
the rest of the slog of small towns, with their churches and their
halls, their student crossings and their tricycles. That new expre
tainly cost a lot of money, too. He thought about Mona Lisa and
cine box, and the money inside it, and before he knew it he had
the entirety of EDSA and was in front of the house, buoyed by th
ria that came with missed sleep.
Moroy barked at the mayor doma to get the t-shirt from the
He didn’t need to ask about Ma’am. He knew she was out at the
for mahjongg. He went up the stairs, feeling his weight and his b
every step. He entered Sir’s room and took a moment to apprec
bright light, the vast space, the rich, woody smell, the sudden q
floor was freshly polished and the bed was made. He felt his ste
loud as he walked over to the night stand opened the drawer: e
USB sticks, a 9mm in its holster. He reached into the space and
the medicine box, a little tin can repurposed from its previous lif
dy container, smaller than he had expected it to be.
Before he could open it, the mayor doma entered the room
up the t-shirt by a hanger: the woman called Mona Lisa, smiling
smiling, her arms folded as though she were waiting impatiently
6 “Are you putting me to the test?”

1 1 1
The first real bottleneck between Makati and Balintawak w
left turn on EDSA, where the entire avenue changed course by
Mall. In the lull Moroy suddenly felt his missed sleep, and his hu
There was a Pancake House just across the entrance to Co
nal Village. A boy tapped on the flank of the SUV until he settle
parking space. He felt the pit of his stomach burn as he waited
meal. Must be hunger, must be old age. It must be genetic. He
Sir and Ma’am talk about “genetic” all the time. It was the reas
things: cancer, idiocy, political appointments.
He tried to guess how old Sir could be. He assumed he was
older, even though he looked so youthful. Genetic. Or plastic su
nusubukan mo ba ako? He remembered Sir’s face, the thing tha
when he said it. Fear, or guilt, or nothing, really. He was overth
“Thinking it over? Or overthinking?” he had heard Bre
one time, her little voice carrying from the back seat, she had a
tle voice, and she used it as effectively in person and on the ph
she was speaking to Sir. They were on the way to a meeting in
Bulacan. What was going to be an hour’s drive had stretched in
She said it after they’d been sitting silent for a long time. Overt
knew what thinking it over meant, but it was the first time he h
that word, overthinking.
“Overthinking?” Sir said, the top of his head suddenly flittin
side in his rearview. “What does that mean?” he repeate
ing?” Sir obviously knew what it meant.
Brenda used the very same friendly, accommodating tone
on their most difficult clients. “You know, when you’re wo
about something it becomes something else already. Like distr
“Fear?” Sir said, as though he suddenly didn’t know what t
either. Nothing was said after that; by that time they had finally
their client’s sardine canning factory.
Brenda—he had never really seen her face because it h
ingrained in him to avert his eyes, but he was so sure now that
special, beyond just being pale-skinned, well-scrubbed, and we
like the rest of them. She had “right manners and good conduc
the right compliments, never intruded on privacy, and pre
amused, even delighted, when Sir told her something about his

112
Ma’am was an interior decorator who had her own set of difficul
and their child went to Ateneo Grade School. Brenda was Englis
ing like the rest of them, but whenever she spoke, Moroy knew
quite in the league of Sir and his close circle of old friends. He c
ally put a finger on it, but he knew that was exactly how Sir wan
A billboard advertising a family-owned resort straddled a bo
dike between two ricefields burned pale by the sun. The amenit
bullet points: world-class swimming pool and water park, luxurio
and suites, family restaurant.
The radio had been tuned to DZBB “sais treynta.” He’d bee
ing the senate hearings on the latest budget scam. He knew exa
some of those people looked like, he knew their voices from the
spoke to their drivers and their minders. They all knew what the
to even before the senate hearings. He turned the radio down a
the SUV to a stop on the shoulder. Cars blasted their horns as th
past. He allowed himself to think of taking the detour. Although
even midmorning he felt hungry again.
He saw the shirt hanging by its hanger in the rear an
bered his errand. The canister had cradled itself in a crevice in t
ger seat. He took the lid off and saw no cash inside—an ATM car
have fit pretty nicely. Instead there was a little pool of blue pills
or so, that had settled gently on the bottom, edge to edge. He k
they were from stories told by other folks like himself—drivers, m
bodyguards, handlers. A great blue-colored mixture of a sense o
feeling of great responsibility washed over him and into the cab
This was not just an errand; this was another test. Sir had la
roy’s shoulders an uncommon trust. In the quieted cabin he rem
Brenda’s voice, talking to Sir, telling him things about wor
mother. Though he couldn’t understand most of what they talke
he heard in Sir’s voice a tone of gentle desperation. She would l
a high exhale, a laugh she barely suppressed, a laugh at the gam
trying so hard to play. He felt an irrational hatred come over him
wanted to screw her out of spite.
Moroy dropped his window as he passed the country c
house, making sure the window opened just enough for the lady
be seen by him through his mirrored shades, and that she could

1 1 3
crocodile patch on his chest. Sir had given him that shirt at the
mas party, all wrapped in a big stiff paper bag that announced
gartered cuffs lightly, but precisely, embraced his upper arms,
multicolored vertical stripes going against every instinct of his
brought his hand up and perched it on the top of the ste
make sure she saw his Submariner. It was fake, of course, but i
class-A knockoff Sir had bought for him on one of his trips to Ba
He had never told anyone, not that the people around him knew
Rolex was, though more than once or twice he had been
regular massage therapist at his favorite chop-chop joint, for ex
exclaimed “Uy! Rolex!” when she saw it sitting on the sid
fake,” he said, firmly and with finality, but the girl was on to him
a double take and said “Weh! Hindi nga?7” The lady guard didn’t look up
from her cellphone. If she only knew who he really was, how clo
to the very top. He was listened to. He had some bearing on th
one of the good guys.
He didn’t know how long he had been away. Sir had texted
already, at around 7 a.m. and right as he was entered Kennon a
then nothing. He remembered the way he shifted and sighed in
seat after they’d brought Brenda home on one of those nights s
come out with him. He’d be pretending he was worried about w
home, about money. He would tell him to hurry home, hurry ho
this road, take that turn, as if he needed to be told, as if he did
way.
Moroy fixed the hotel valet with a stare through his sungla
stepped out of the SUV, leaving the door open as he walked int
It was 11 a.m.
He went up the elevator and knocked on his door, “Sir, sir,
membering to tighten the I’s. It opened a crack and a hand rea
fingers stretched upward like a cup, ready to receive the delive
put on a poker face and deposited the canister into Sir’s hand,
making a clicking sound. The hand withdrew, and came out aga
upward in a signal to wait.
Moroy tried to see into the room but it was dark inside. He
to hear her voice but heard nothing. The hand darted out, holdi
7 “C’mon! You’re kidding, right?”

114
of the blue pills in the middle of an OK sign. Moroy felt like he ha
found out. He had made a mental note to himself to filch one bu
forgotten. He cupped his hand under his master’s to receive the
When the valet brought the SUV up the driveway Moroy cou
even through the double-tinted windows, the Mona Lisa swingin
hanger in the back seat. He smiled, half at the girl, half at himse
he had accomplished his mission.
Angelo R. Lacuesta has won numerous awards for his fiction, among them two Philip
Awards, the Madrigal Gonzalez Best First Book Award and several Palanca and
Awards. He was literary editor of the Philippines Free Press and is currently editor-at-
Philippines