I remember it as if it happened yesterday. It’s one of those things that can’t be erased, like that smell that remains impregnated in the memory. The false clients of Mas Torrencito
For me, that cursed aroma is that of aniseed. It doesn’t matter if it’s a cake, a liqueur or a measly cookie. I smell it and immediately, wham, I am teleported back to that epic binge when I was 15 years old. A legendary melopea based on sun, shadows and aniseed that, since then, I promised never to repeat. Just thinking about it makes me retch. Doesn’t something like that happen to you! Not with aniseed, of course, but with something that destroys you just remembering it. Well, what I am about to tell you is something similar, but without the aniseed. Although with a couple of gulps, the thing would have been more bearable, I assure you.
Unexpected visit. Mas Torrencito’s false clients
It was an ordinary Friday, one of those quiet mornings in Mas Torrencito, where nothing ever happens unless someone comes expressly. Here you don’t just drop by, and if you come, it’s either because you’re interested or because you’ve gotten spectacularly lost. Well, the phone rings. A couple tells me they are “in the area” and want to see the house. First red flag. Nobody is “in the area”. Not even the birds come here by chance.
I give them the code and the couple appears. Joan and Maria, they introduce themselves. He, about 40 years old and looks like a trinket salesman. She, looking like she smelled something strange, but still not knowing that they were my dogs. From the gestures they were making, I already imagined that the doggy thing wasn’t really their thing, but look, if you don’t like dogs, what are you doing in a house where there is more hair than tiles?
– Do you like dogs? – I ask them, just like that, without anesthesia.
– Well, I don’t dislike them, and Maria… a little less.
A little less. I already liked them. But come on, I show them the bar, a couple of rooms, the facilities, while they look around as if they were looking for something. Something bad? Something illegal? I, being more suspicious than a cat in a locked box, send a quick message to Josep, my neighbor and occasional helper. “Stay home today.” Something didn’t add up.
Then Joan, with the air of a down-on-his-luck tax inspector, starts asking strange questions.
– This is big, you’ll need help, won’t you?
– Yes, of course. One girl works 8 hours, another 4, and maintenance is handled by a company – I tell her, like someone talking about the weather.
But the guy, neither short nor lazy, pulls out an ID card. One of those that look like FBI cards but are actually “third rate public servant”. That’s when my blood starts to boil.
First orders… Mas Torrencito’s false clients
– Call the girl, please – he tells me, getting serious.
– Sure, sure. MARIBEEEEEL! – I shout from the window, as if summoning a spirit.
They are petrified. I guess they didn’t expect me to scream like I was calling the goats. Then Maribel, my savior and unwitting martyr of the morning, appears.
– What’s up, boss? – he asks, leaning out.
– Come down, these gentlemen want to ask you some questions.
On the way down, the dogs decide to liven up the show. Masto, with a drooling rock in his mouth, drops it on Maria’s chair. Maky, meanwhile, decides to inspect their asses as if they were part of his new research project.
– But… what is this dog doing? – asks Maria, horrified.
– Well, he wants you to throw a stone at him. He’s that insistent. If you don’t, he won’t leave you alone – I answer, amused.
Masto barks. She refuses. And Masto barks more. Maria’s partner, meanwhile, bursts out laughing. So do I, but I try to hide it. Finally, Maribel arrives, and Joan asks for her ID. He writes it down, takes a picture of her and starts interrogating her as if it were an episode of “CSI: La Bisbal”.
– What is your schedule?
– 8 to 1 – she answers, with the calm of someone who has seen worse.
– And the other girl?
– I don’t know. I suppose he’s at home. Do you want me to bring him his paycheck? – I add, as if I were offering him a carajillo.
– Yes, please.
I go upstairs, look for the document and forward it to you by mail. All very professional. But, of course, they couldn’t just leave. Joan turns to me, already in the tone of a cheap after-dinner movie villain:
– Your ID, please.
– My ID card? Ah, yes, of course… well, it’s expired.
Mistake. What for me was an unimportant detail, for him was like finding the key piece of the case of the century. His face was pure delight. Mine, resignation.
Masto and Maky to theirs… Mas Torrencito’s false clients
Meanwhile, Maria was still fighting with Masto, who kept asking her for the stone and sniffing at her. “Get these bugs away from me!” she cried, desperate. But here came the miracle. For the first time in years, I snapped my fingers and the dogs listened to me – they sat down! I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry with emotion.
Finally, with a poorly disguised “good morning”, they left. And I, neither short nor lazy, called all my colleagues to warn them that the vampires were in the area.
Because let’s see… they really have to come to a small business, where they know everything is in order, to look for what? They have nothing better to do? And on top of that, lie to get in? What the hell!
Of course, they never came back. But every time I smell aniseed, I remember this story… and the pedrolo de Masto. And I laugh, because there are things that can only happen here, in Mas Torrencito.
From Mas Torrencito we wish you a good day and that your dog accompanies you !!!!
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