Primitivo

by Croft, Rose

  Adrian shook and ducked his head, smiling a stupid smile as though he were sharing an inside joke with himself. My cousin always seemed to have a smug look like he knew something about you that you didn’t know yourself. I guess he was going for mysterious. Who knew? “If that’s what you want, primo,” he said.

  “Do I get one, too?” Yovani asked, adjusting his baseball cap on his head. My brother had smoked a blunt before he left the house and now he was horny and soon would be starving within the next hour.

  I shoved him. “Patience, bro.”

  “I thought we’d do the proverbial kill two birds with one stone…” Adrian began like he was telling an epic beginning to an even more epic story. “You know, mix business with pleasure.”

  “So, this place is on the market?” I asked bypassing all his dramatic bullshit.

  We approached the door and Adrian pulled it open allowing Yovani and me to pass through first. “Yeah, check it out and see what you think. The lap dance is only the icing on the cake. Believe me… they give you a lot of icing here.” Of course, Adrian would know this. He was like a wizard who had some inexplicable ability to sniff out something rank. I didn’t believe in otherworldly crap or how someone had a sixth sense, but Adrian came damn close to making me think twice. By the way, who even spoke like that?

  We passed through the dimly lit club with flashing bright lights streaking through the air from the back where the stage was set up. The place was rundown and half-filled, like a sad attempt at trying to make a brilliant strip club from the early nineties with black felt walls and neon signs. Everything seemed stale, old, played out, and the clientele was even more questionable. These weren’t businessmen here for a good time, I would even go a step further and say not even the middle-class I wear my smart button-down shirt untucked and khakis seemed to be present.

  There were a few random men/women who seemed to be using this club as their nightcap after a long-ass day of doing some hard time with their drug of choice. They were spread about the club like Germanic seeds that had haphazardly blown away in the wind but some of them were able to land on the ground and take root… here. I heard the piercing laughter to my right.

  I glanced over and saw a group of guys with white wifebeaters and baggy jeans dancing around, drinking forties, acting like they were hard-ass gangsters with some women in lingerie sitting amongst them. Typical. I knew who they were. Los Malos. The bad ones that haunted my dreams when I was a kid in San Salvador. I’d had several run-ins with them in high school and realized they weren’t as mythical as I’d made them as a child. Don’t get me wrong. They were dangerous, but I’d grown up hard, too. We had a few territorial conflicts back in the day. My brother and I were never ones to back down, and we held our own.

  They were laughing too loud. Pushing each other around like they had to prove how badass they were by being brash, obnoxious, and of course, testy. Testy as in threatening you, hoping that one word would set you off and get you riled enough to fight because that was their MO. Get riled up, fucked up, and fight. That’s it.

  I watched them with a sad curiosity, I guess, because I’d been into all that gangster crap at one point in my life. I’d sold drugs in high school—my brother and I did. We’d dealt with some harsh times. Drug dealing wasn’t the occupation I’d dreamed of nor discussed with my high school counselor when we’d had career day in school. I didn’t want that life, but when the livelihood of your family is threatened, it makes your decisions easier.

  I watched these assholes who thought they had the world by the tail. Who sat around like faux ghetto kings with their women who they treated like cheapened doll whores. They drug them down to the ground in front of them, clearly in a demeaning act. Sadly, the girls seemed to try harder to please them. These assholes didn’t care about how it looked because this was clearly an act of control. In many ways, it was disturbing. Hijo mío, tu Corazon, es él de un león. I remembered the words my mother said to me when we were crammed in that semi-truck years ago. My son, you have the heart of a lion. Mami always said I was born to protect and help others.

  As a kid who’d grown up without a father, I took her words to heart. I wanted to be the man of the house and it was never a question I would do anything to keep them safe. I was the protector. I’d always been… until I wasn’t.

  We took a booth at the back of the club. Then I heard a voice from above me loud and clear from the speakers. “We have a treat for you.” The lights from the stage flashed wildly in excitement. I cut a side-glance to Adrian really, bro? This sucks.

  Adrian did his confessional priest smile. “Trust me. It is what it is,” he mouthed.

  Again, another awkward statement that didn’t make any sense, and I shrugged silently regretting not staying home tonight.

  “Our next girl is shy. This is her first time on the stage, so she needs a lot of words of encouragement…”

  “Come on, Gatita!” One of the guys sitting among the Los Malos group stood up and moved over to the stage cupping a hand around his mouth. “Get your ass out here!”

  “La Gatita!” The DJ called out and the intro of Kendrick Lamar’s “LOYALTY” blared through the speakers. The room darkened leaving a solo white spotlight on the stage with a chair.

  The stage remained unoccupied for several moments. Minutes later, a girl walked out, wobbling around like she’d never worn the black stiletto heels she had on her feet before. Her legs were tan and shapely running up to the hem of the white dress that hit mid-thigh. One arm was thrown over her chest as if she were trying to cover herself although the dress didn’t really reveal anything. Her head was bent over with a hand shielding her face from the glaring stage light. Her brown hair fell down her shoulders feathering her forearm over the chest. Something about her mannerisms touched me and made me uneasy. Was this an act or did she truly not want to be on stage?

  When she approached the chair, she gripped the back bracing herself as she stood. Soon, the guy at the stage climbed up and gangsta-limped to her side and ran a hand behind her back. He leaned in and said something in her ear. Her head rose, and her shield of a hand slid down her cheek.

  Like strings on a marionette, my body tensed when I had an unobstructed view of her face. The familiarity both sickened me and damn near took my breath away. Full pink lips, cupid-like that I knew were soft and pliable. A heart-shaped face that promised a goodness and wholesomeness any boy next door would cherish. But it was the exotic eyes dipped in a color wheel of blue and green shades with flecks of hazel that sucked you in and held you captive. Cat eyes. La Gatita. Sofía.

  The blood in my veins pulsed as I watched my ex smile at the punk-ass on stage who took her hand and helped her sit down, then cupped her face.

  Through the thumping of bass from the speakers and pressure in my head, I heard, “Damn, bro, that’s…” My head shot in Yovani’s direction, and he clamped his mouth shut giving me a cautious glance. I waved him off trying to hide the rage steadily building inside me. I thought I’d let this go a long time ago. She’d left. Left everything. Said she’d found someone else. This was the life she chose?

  I wanted to leave. I wanted to stay. I had an urge to rush the stage and kill the man touching her and then strangle the life out of her for her betrayal. The song blaring through the sound system was fitting when it was questioning where your loyalties lie. Treachery had a motherfuckin’ name, and it sure as hell wasn’t Judas.

  “Did you know?” My voice sounded detached as I scowled at my cousin. “Is this why you brought me? You knew she’d be here?”

  Adrian didn’t seem amused. His face was drawn together in a blur of seriousness and shock. “No. I didn’t know. I would’ve never brought you here if I knew.”

  My cousin was a lot of things, but I knew he wasn’t cruel. My mind was already playing tricks on me. I was beginning to ask questionable shit all in the name of this person who’d betrayed me. I needed to get out of here before I did something insane like pick a fight, tear t
he club down, and get arrested. I caught a glimpse of white fabric flitter as she stood up and swayed in front of the guy with the scar on his cheek. He was moving with her and tilted her face to his. It felt like acid burned the lining of my stomach while I watched her in some sick, tortuous trance. However, as I studied her arresting features, something seemed off. Her eyes were glassy, vacant, like she was an unfeeling robot. Untouchable.

  Scarface reached behind her and unzipped her dress. The straps slowly slid down her arms. My left hand dug into the table while the other clenched the glass I was holding, keeping me grounded from jumping up and rushing the stage. I needed to get the fuck outta here. I hated her. I felt nothing for her. I couldn’t watch this.

  “I love you, Emilio,” she whispered when we’d found out she was pregnant.

  “I love you, Emilio,” she sighed when she held our son in her arms for the first time.

  “I love you, Emilio,” she moaned as I drove into her tight, wet pussy.

  The voice in my head was persistently loud to the point I could hear nothing else but her soft lilt and poisonous words. “I’m out.” I shoved away from the table, done with the warped display on stage. I wouldn’t watch her show her fucking body to everyone here. I wasn’t that much of a glutton for punishment.

  Soon, Adrian and Yovani were behind me. My cousin was the first person I heard as I pushed the door to the outdoor parking lot. “Emilio…”

  Before he could finish, I twisted my head his way as I stormed on. “Buy this place, renovate it or burn it I don’t give a fuck. But close this shit down.”

  “Hey, man.” Adrian gripped my shoulder pulling me to a stop. “Are you sure? I truly didn’t know about…”

  I hardened my voice. “This is business, primo. I know this is a prime location. Yeah, I’m angry, but I know it’s a lucrative deal with great potential.” I didn’t think twice. I wanted to ruin anything she got her hands on. I wasn’t in the mood to discuss this any further.

  For the first time in years, my mind traveled down a vicious path. Back then, I would’ve given her anything. I would’ve given her the world. But not now. Not again. I wanted to see her beg and sweat it out, and my destructive side hoped I was there to thrive on her misery.

  Past

  Emilio

  Your firsts were always memorable in one way or another, some great and some underwhelming. It was more about the anticipation of what was to come. Occasionally, I was left satisfied, other times it was just… meh. Mind you, I wasn’t an overemotional chick who kept a scrapbook of all my firsts, but I did reflect. First kiss, I was ten and kissed a girl named Sarah Logan behind the gym bleachers at PE on a dare. She found me dark and mysterious, while I saw her as a meal ticket and won twenty bucks—Meh on the sloppy kiss, but definitely a win on earning my first legit money. I was a hustler even then.

  Got my first hand job at thirteen by my neighbor Gina across the street, who was a year older than me, whose parents were at work. Like most kids in the neighborhood, we ran around enjoying the hot sun, unsupervised during summertime hours. Gina and I were sitting in lawn chairs on the cracked, uneven concrete patio in her parent’s backyard because she said they would kill her if she invited people into the house. Whatever. And yes, it was memorable because it was my first happy ending that wasn’t self-induced.

  My first blow job was not too long after by said neighbor above. Memorable in more ways than one. I got so into it, I broke the rickety lawn chair and later quickly replaced both chairs so they’d match, and her parents wouldn’t kill me. First time I had sex… hmm… learning curve that’s all I’m gonna say. I was there, I saw, I conquered, I came, no doubt. Was it memorable? Questionable, on both sides. But, I quickly perfected my craft.

  However, all those firsts were meaningless and forgettable as soon as I laid eyes on Sofía. I didn’t believe in love at first sight. That always sounded desperate and stupid to me, but I couldn’t help feeling an inexplicable connection when I met her that night at the restaurant. There was something hauntingly familiar about her—like I could find my truths and face my fears when I looked in her lucid eyes as clear as the Azures. Again, vomit on the eye contact infatuation, and since when did I become a poet with an extended vocabulary?

  Our first date consisted of us going to the state fair. She’d never been…

  “What? You’ve never been to the fair?” I questioned as we walked through the vast parking lot.

  She shook her head.

  “Didn’t you have fair days?” Every fall, throughout all my years in school, students received a free ticket for state fair day. In fact, with my family, fair day was a ritual because a) free ticket and; b) the venue wasn’t far from our home. My family and I coveted those tickets like we were going to the chocolate factory, and we’d even pressed other students who weren’t going to give us the extra tickets, so we could take Mamá, Tío, and Tía. This was like a Mendoza vacation for us, not gonna lie. It wasn’t Disney World, but we loved this place.

  “Yeah, but I never went.”

  “Why not?”

  She shrugged and dipped her chin, and her eyes fell to her shoes. Reserved. “I don’t know. Never had the chance.”

  “Your parents never wanted to take you or what?”

  “My mom’s not around, and my father’s… dead. Belinda’s family took me in,” she answered quietly, immediately my Spidey senses were on alert wanting to know her story. I’d offered to pick her up at her place, but she insisted that she’d meet me here. I knew absolutely nothing about her except being a waitress that had a haughty friend named Belinda who she obviously lived with. Again, I wanted to pursue her for more information, but since we’d just first met, maybe I should back off.

  Instead, I one-upped her. “My mom’s not around either, and I don’t have a father.” I didn’t know how we went down this path so quickly, but I wasn’t as cautious as I normally was.

  She pulled up and leveled me with those eyes. “What happened?”

  This was too soon for honest confessions and not the way I wanted to start off an innocent date at the fair. “Accidental death.” I shoved my hands in my pockets and pushed forward. My mom smuggled heroin in her body and died. The end. A goddamn sad story that should’ve never been written.

  Apparently, Sofía could tell I didn’t want to elaborate, and she didn’t press. Thank you, angel. I wasn’t ready to share my family history, but damn… this girl was being understanding.

  “So what does one do at the fair?” Her full lips parted showing a model smile that left me stunned. She was beaming, truly beautiful on the outside, with an under layer of something else that clutched me by the lapels. Natural. Intriguing. Ingénue. And other intricate words I couldn’t pronounce but imagined in my head. Why the hell was she hanging out with me? Legitimate question.

  But I gave a legit answer. “Ride the rides, eat cotton candy and corn dogs.”

  “What are corn dogs?”

  Was she from another planet? Who didn’t know about corn dogs?

  I owl-eyed her with a serious expression trying to keep my lips from cracking. “Do you know what a hot dog is?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes. Who doesn’t?”

  “Okay,” I began slowly as if I had to measure my words. “A corn dog is like a hot dog on a stick. You need to try it.”

  “I’m down with that,” she let out, and cue every bad porno movie thought in my head, but also shame on me for thinking it. I wasn’t that douchy. At least I didn’t think so. Maybe slightly. Father, forgive me.

  We hit the corn dog stand and waited in line. I paid for two and passed one to her. “Here’s to your first corn dog.” We tapped the tips of our food in salute. I was freakin’ hungry, but I paused, like the sexed-up idiot I was and watched as she put the damn corn dog in her mouth. She took her first bite, and I wanted to gnaw my knuckles watching her innocently wrap her lips around a fried wiener like it could’ve been mine.

  She moaned in pleasure and ground out,
“It’s so good.”

  I did a Jack Nicholson meme nod. “I know.” And newsflash: My dick was hard. I ignored my prepubescent-like humor (and hormones) and moved on. “Right? You haven’t lived until you’ve had a corn dog at the fair.”

  “No. I guess I haven’t.”

  I finished mine in three bites while she took her time savoring every morsel in her mouth like this was the first time she’d ever tried food. “You’re a slow eater.”

  She grinned awkwardly between chewing with a mouth full of food and swallowed. “I try to stay in the moment and appreciate my experiences.”

  “So, you enjoy the simple things in life?”

  “Yeah, I do because you never know if one day they’ll be taken away.” Sofía shrugged uncomfortably, and I had an overwhelming urge to make sure she took delight in everything we did tonight.

  “Well then.” I took her hand. “Get ready, Sofí because that was the first of many more moments to enjoy.”

  We rode most of the rides, while I watched her face light up in childlike excitement. The final ride was my most anticipated. El Diablo. A roller coaster that was as old as Moses and probably wouldn’t even pass a safety inspection, but I rode it every year. You only live once and dammit if I wasn’t having the time of my life giving Sofía more moments to keep filed away in her mind… and phone. She’d taken several pictures along the way of everything we did. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought this girl had lived a sheltered life and hadn’t experienced the normal things that people did and took for granted.