Part 45 (2/2)
”No. That isn't what I mean. Whose . . . woman are you?”
Only the deep sound again, from her throat.
”Garcia's?”
”Don't worry,” she said. ”You didn't steal me.”
”Perez's?””I'm here as Don Alfredo's guest. He is a relative.”
”Oh.”
”'Oh'? You sound disappointed, Senor Galvez. Tell me, does the fruit always taste better when it's stolen?”
Juanito blushed hotly. ”No,” he said, ”No, no.”
”Then why are you so afraid to take a bite?”
Her flesh burned against his, then, and his mind began to swirl. He saw the bull's head, dead eyes staring blindly down . . . ”Forgive me,” he said, and made for the corner where Enrique had been drinking. As he walked he saw that most of the other guests had departed. Of the Matadors, only Lombardini remained, asleep on the floor.
A clock read ten minutes until midnight.
”Hey, _torero!_ Are you lost?”
Don Alfredo thrust out a pudgy hand. He came close, smelling of liquor and colognes.
”I didn't know it was so late,” said Juanito, looking away from the fat, glistening face. ”Have you seen Enrique?”
”Your manager? The ugly one?”
”Enrique, my mozo.”
”He is gone,” said Don Alfredo Camara, grinning. ”Too much tequila.”
Juanito felt a tightening in his chest. On this night of all nights, for Enrique to desert him! To go without a word! ”When did he leave?”
”An hour ago. Two hours. Why?”
Once more, Juanito could not find the words.
”He was going to take you with him,” said the large man, lighting a fresh cigarette from the one he had been smoking, ”but I pointed out, how unfair! I told him we'd take care of you. And . . . have we?”
”Yes, Senor.”
”So, then, everything is okay.” The fingers dug into Juanito's arm. ”Take it from one who knows, you must be calm, relaxed, the night before the big fight. So important. Believe me.”
”Yes, Senor.”
”The going home early is an old wive's tale, a fantasy. It doesn't work. You try to sleep, but instead you dream about the next afternoon. It grows real in your mind. So real. You hear the crowd screaming and you see the toril gate opening . . . so? No sleep at all. Next day you're a wreck. Logical, Juan Galvez? Reasonable?”
Juanito nodded. It went against everything he'd ever heard, against Enrique's advice, but it sounded right, somehow. Certainly it was true that he would dream ”I apologize, Don Alfredo.”
”For what? Go, now, go back and have some fun. Get yourself exhausted. Then sleep soundly!”
Juanito watched as the Impresario turned and weaved his way back to the couch and sprawled, giggling, over the woman in the black dress.
”Your keeper is missing?”
The words were mocking. He wheeled. Andree was smiling at him, her body still moving to the music.
”Enrique is not my keeper,” he said, in a slow, even voice.
”No? Who then?”
He took a step toward her. ”No one.” He pulled her quickly to him and pressed with all his strength. ”No one,” he repeated, angrily. ”No one. You understand?”
Her eyes were big. When she tried to slip from his grasp, Juanito pressed harder. ”Yes,” she said, finally. His hands moved up to her hair; slowly he forced her lips to his, then, feeling a river of strange new sensations sweeping over him, he released the woman.
She stared at him, a difference in her eyes. Then she walked to the ivory closet door and returned.
”Help me,” she said.He held the dark fur jacket.
”Have you a car?”
”No,” he said.
”I do.” She put her arm through his. ”Come on.”
Juanito cast a glance back at the room. Don Alfredo was peering behind a gray curtain of smoke; there was no expression on his face, no expression at all.
The door closed.
In another room, in another part of the city, another door closed.
”Pour us a drink,” the woman said, pointing to the nightstand next to the large yellow bed.
J uanito took a curved silver flask from the drawer, unscrewed the top and let it dangle by this tiny steel necklace. His heart was pumping fast, the way it used to when he would steal into the big ranches at night and work the bulls by starlight and shadow. He was afraid. And that was why he knew he must not run, must not take a backward step.
He tilted his head and let the liquid fire sear down his throat; then he carried the flask to the woman.
She drank. He saw the muscles of her neck moving.
Together, in minutes, they emptied the silver flask.
Then the woman took off her coat, flinging it into a corner. In the dim light of the single sh.e.l.l-shaded lamp, her red dress burned into Juanito's eyes.
He moved toward her. Quickly, she stepped aside, twisting her body and laughing.
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