by Sam Hawken
‘It’s like that. You buy drinks, but there are also girls,’ Gonzalo said.
‘So it’s a whorehouse.’
‘No, you buy drinks for the girls and they dance with you. And if you want to touch them, that’s okay, too.’
Jack frowned. ‘Everybody’s selling somebody,’ he said.
‘What was that?’
‘Nothing. Let’s go.’
He heard the music playing before they even opened the door: the bright sounds of brass and the bass thump of norteño music and the singing voices of two men in tandem professing love for the same woman. They passed through the entrance into the half-lit bar, smelling fresh cigarette smoke from the slowly forming cloud clinging to the ceiling. Lazily turning ceiling fan paddles stirred the air around, forming swirls of gray in the light.
Jack saw the girls first, arranged along the bar in a row for selection. They wore shorts and had bare arms and it was hard to tell if they were young or old from a distance. The bar had a dance floor and on it a man and a woman swayed, the man’s hands clutching at the woman.
There were other men scattered among the tables and there were women with them, too. All were sitting close and at the nearest table he saw the couple’s hands were in each other’s laps, steadily moving in physical rhythm.
Gonzalo led Jack to the bar. No stools here. A drinker could put up a foot on the rail, but there was nowhere to sit except at the tables. Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw the girls arranging themselves to be more visible. It was a quiet shuffling that seemed unconscious, but had the calculation of long practice.
‘Hola, señor,’ Gonzalo said to the man at the bar. ‘Two beers for me and my friend.’
The bartender looked at them both. ‘You got to buy drinks for the girls, too.’
‘Not right now. Just for us.’
‘I don’t make the rules.’
‘How about we just pay double for the beers?’ Jack asked.
‘It’s drinks for the girls or nothing.’
Gonzalo put up his hand. ‘Está bien. We’ll buy for the girls.’
The bartender waved the girls over and immediately women surrounded them. Jack held his breath. A few were older, but most were very young and they looked at him with dark eyes that were tired and wanting at the same time. They made smiles that didn’t reach those eyes and one touched Jack on the chest lightly with her fingers and said, ‘Hello, baby,’ in English.
‘I’ll take that one,’ Gonzalo said, and waved a finger at one of the crowd.
The rest coalesced around Jack, pushing in, but the face of the girl who spoke English held him. She was slender, with fine features that were marred by too much makeup. Her hair was long and fell to her shoulders in straight waves. She could not be older than eighteen.
‘Jack?’ Gonzalo asked.
‘This one,’ Jack forced out, and the girl stepped up next to him so that he could smell her perfume and feel her hip touching his.
‘Beer,’ the girl ordered from the bartender.
The woman Gonzalo chose was plain and going soft, but he ignored her completely except to give her the drink he paid for. Jack could not stop looking at his girl, even when the beers came. His throat was too tight to swallow.
‘What’s your name?’ the girl asked him.
‘Jack,’ he said huskily.
‘That’s a nice name. Like Jack Daniel. I am Ercilia.’
Gonzalo was saying something to the bartender, but Jack didn’t hear. The bartender pointed then and Gonzalo passed him a hundred-peso bill. ‘I’ll be back,’ he told Jack, and he and the woman slipped away.
‘Do you like me, Jack?’ Ercilia asked.
‘I don’t know you.’
‘Would you like to dance?’
‘Maybe later.’
Jack drank desperately from his beer, gulping heavily. It was cheap stuff and bitter, but it was something to keep him from looking at the girl. He felt her fingers on his arm and he nearly recoiled. Even without turning his head toward her he could sense her nearness and then she bumped him with her hip again.
‘You speak good Spanish,’ Ercilia said.
‘Thanks.’
‘But you’re American, aren’t you?’
‘Yeah.’
‘We don’t see many Americans in here. Just locals. It’s nice for a change.’
He searched around for Gonzalo and saw him sitting at a table with another man and his rental girl. He and the man were deep in conversation, their heads bowed, and the women looked away, indifferent. Jack wanted to be there with them.
Ercilia touched him and despite himself he looked at her. She stood with her back to the bar and held her shoulders back so that he could see her small breasts. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to dance?’ she asked. ‘It’s all right if you don’t know how. We can go slow.’
‘I just want to drink my beer,’ Jack said, and then he asked, ‘How old are you?’
The girl’s brow furrowed. ‘What kind of a question is that?’
‘I’m just curious,’ Jack said quickly.
‘I’m nineteen, if you want to know.’ Ercilia took a drink from her beer and watched Jack from over the brim of the mug. ‘Are you here to try and save me?’
‘What? No. No, I was only asking.’
‘Then put your hands on me.’
‘That’s okay,’ Jack said.
Ercilia put down her beer, and her voice turned low. ‘Put your hands on me. What, are you shy?’
‘I’m not shy. I came here with a friend to see somebody, that’s all.’
The girl leaned in close. ‘They say you can only touch, but for five hundred pesos you can do whatever you want. There’s a place we can go. All you have to do is ask.’
She put her hand on him again, touching him in the crotch, and Jack jumped. He reached for his wallet and fumbled out a twenty-dollar bill. He thrust it at her and mumbled something like ‘No, thanks,’ before heading for the door. The clean air from outside rushed in when he flung the door wide and then he was out in it, the music fading and the girl left behind.
His breaths came shallow and fast. Jack steadied himself against a wall. Specks of hyperventilation passed his vision and died away. He went to Gonzalo’s car and tried the passenger door. It was still unlocked.
He was still in the car when Gonzalo came out again. ‘Jack, what happened?’ Gonzalo asked.
‘Nothing,’ Jack said.
‘One minute you are there and the next you are gone.’
‘I said it was nothing.’
Gonzalo watched him. ‘You shouldn’t have come with me,’ he said finally.
‘I wanted to come. I’m fine.’
A new car pulled up beside them and a pair of men got out, conversing loudly. Gonzalo waited until they had gone before he said, ‘Was it the girls?’
‘No.’
‘Was it?’
Jack hesitated before nodding. ‘Marina’s that age. She’s no older than that girl.’
‘Jack, you have to realize… this is what they do.’
‘She offered to let me screw her! A kid!’
‘It’s worse in La Zona,’ Gonzalo said. ‘Places like these are nothing. You want a young girl, you can find one there, and you don’t have to buy her a drink before you do what you want to do to her.’
Jack wiped his mouth with the back of a shaking hand. ‘I didn’t think it’d be right there. I’m not stupid, I know what goes on, but… she’s just a kid.’
‘I should do the rest of this alone tonight,’ Gonzalo said.
‘No, I’m sticking it out till the end.’
‘You want to go back in there again? Because that is what you’ll have to do. Ramiro isn’t here yet and he won’t be until after midnight.’
‘I’ll wait out here.’
‘No, you won’t. I’m taking you back to your hotel. You’ll sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.’
Jack opened his mouth to protest, but he said nothing. When Gonzalo started the
car, Jack did not try to stop him and on the drive back they didn’t talk at all.
THIRTEEN
THE HOTEL ROOM WAS LIKE A CELL. Jack was reluctant to mount the steps to his floor and slower still to pass through the door and lock it behind him. Waiting there earlier in the day had been excruciating, but at least then he was with someone. Now he was alone with his thoughts and that was no good.
His phone was on the bed stand and he used it to call Bernardo despite the hour. Bernardo answered right away, as if he had been waiting by the phone for just that moment. ‘What have you learned?’ he asked.
‘Not much,’ Jack confessed.
‘All the flyers have been put up,’ Bernardo told him. ‘There is nowhere in that neighborhood where you can’t see Patricia’s face.’
‘That’s good. That’s real good.’
‘I have been hoping someone would call,’ Bernardo said, and Jack heard the disappointment there. ‘So far… no one.’
‘Someone will call,’ Jack said.
‘I know it. Reina lit a candle at the church and she said she felt God’s presence. He will guide someone to us.’
Jack said nothing to that. God had put many obstacles in his way. It was not like Him to take them back. Finally he said, ‘How’s Lidia?’
‘She is asleep. The kids kept her busy.’
‘That’s good. She needs something to take her mind off this.’
‘It would be better for her to be at home with her friends,’ Bernardo said. ‘We have nothing to offer but four walls. On the other side, she can pretend that things aren’t changed. For a little while.’
‘We’ll go home when this is done,’ Jack said. ‘She’ll survive. She’s strong, like her mother. Like Marina. She can make do without her friends for a little while.’
‘You know she’s welcome as long as it takes,’ Bernardo said. ‘I only thought it would be easier on her.’
‘There’s nothing easy about this. I’m not going to pretend that there is.’
‘Are you going to be all right, Jack?’
‘I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Listen, I should clear the line so you can take a call if you have to. Just tell me if you hear anything.’
‘I will, Jack. You will be the first to know.’
‘Goodnight, Bernardo.’
‘Goodnight.’
Jack put the phone aside and pulled back the sheets on the bed and slipped in between them. He snuffed the lamp so that the only light in the room came from the street, ghostly and orange. The electric clock’s buzzing rose in his ear again and he rode it away into a strange and unrestful sleep where he was lost on a lonely road with no one to help him on his way.
FOURTEEN
THE RENT-GIRL’S NAME WAS MÓNICA and Gonzalo fed her enough beer that he was sure she could not stand up. He felt guilty doing it, but every now and then a thickset man in a black T-shirt patrolled the tables and commanded the patrons to buy another drink or get out. His own beer remained untouched, mostly flat by now, but there were many bottles on the table from Mónica’s drinking.
She seemed happy enough not to dance for her drinks and talked to Gonzalo instead. He learned about her childhood in Chiapas and how she came north with her father when she was only fourteen. She had five brothers and sisters, all older. Most were back in Chiapas, barely getting by, while she was the earner. She sent money from her earnings home every week. They could not survive without her.
Iris Contreras had sent no money home, though perhaps the thought might have occurred to her. Likely her father would not have accepted such generosity, earned as it was and tainted because of it. Gonzalo had heard a variation on this tale a hundred times and only the details changed. Sometimes the woman telling the tale ended up dead, by the hand of a customer or the bite of a needle or the cruel attentions of a chulo. What was Iris doing tonight?
He thought all of this and let Mónica talk, though by now her stories bounced off him. It was enough that she was taking up time and she did not show any interest in him at all. He wouldn’t have told her anything even if she had asked.
Whenever someone entered the place, Gonzalo looked to his contact, a man named Luis. He did not know what Ramiro Veloz looked like and every time Luis shook his head at the newcomers. The night crawled on toward midnight, the bar filling up steadily. By now there were half a dozen men on the dance floor with their girls, feeling them up as they swayed out of time to the music.
It was half past twelve when a pair of newcomers passed through the door. Both wore Polo shirts, one red and the other blue. Gonzalo shot a glance toward Luis. The man nodded.
Mónica was in the middle of telling the story of how her first boyfriend left her when Gonzalo got up from the table. She stopped woozily and tried to rise, but her legs did not cooperate and she felt back into her seat. ‘Just a minute,’ she slurred. ‘I’m coming.’
‘Stay where you are,’ Gonzalo said. ‘We’re all done.’
‘But we haven’t danced!’
‘We can dance another time.’
She caught at Gonzalo’s sleeve and whined, ‘Don’t leave me.’
Gonzalo extricated himself gently and laid a five-hundred-peso note on the table. She focused on it with difficulty. ‘That should cover us for the rest of the night,’ Gonzalo said. ‘Tell your boss, okay?’
The bill was swept up in her hands. Mónica looked at Gonzalo with glassy eyes. ‘Gracias,’ she said. ‘You are a good man.’
‘Take care of yourself,’ Gonzalo said.
It took a few moments to locate the men in the crowd that now held the bar. Gonzalo spotted them getting beers from the bartender, who by now was assisted by another man to handle the overflow. The choice of girls was dwindling, too, and the remains flocked to them to flirt and preen.
Gonzalo reached the men as they settled arms around their ladies. He did not know who was who, so he addressed them both. ‘Ramiro Veloz?’
The man in the blue Polo shirt narrowed his eyes. He was slender, with lank hair and a carefully maintained beard of stubble. Up close Gonzalo could see that his shirt was not a real Ralph Lauren, but a knockoff. His pants were frayed at the cuffs and he wore simple tennis shoes. ‘Who are you?’ the man asked.
‘My name is Soler. Aarón told me where to find you.’
Ramiro smiled and Gonzalo saw he had a gold tooth. He punched his companion in the shoulder. ‘He’s a cop,’ he said. ‘I guess no one told him there are no cops anymore.’
‘I just want to talk. Five minutes.’
‘I’m here to drink with the ladies.’
‘I’m only asking for five minutes.’
The man’s smile melted into a frown and he drank from his mug. The girl under his arm looked bored even as she touched his chest in an intimate way. Gonzalo wondered whether she, too, had a long story to tell.
‘How about it?’ Gonzalo asked.
‘All right, five minutes.’
‘Let’s go outside.’
Ramiro whispered something in his girl’s ear and then slipped free of her. His companion’s face was written with suspicion, but he did not try to stop Ramiro when he turned toward the door. Gonzalo followed him out.
It was a clear night outside and there was a half-moon. The city lights burned the rest of the sky and there were no stars to see. They stopped just by the Christmas trees and Ramiro brought out a pack of cigarettes. He offered one to Gonzalo. Gonzalo waved them away.
Ramiro made a production out of putting a cigarette between his lips and firing it up with a stainless-steel lighter. He exhaled a cloud of smoke. ‘What do the police want with me?’ he asked.
‘Eliseo Guadalupe,’ Gonzalo said. ‘Aarón says you know him?’
‘I’ve heard the name. Another cop.’
‘The other night he stopped a car. Two girls. What happened to them?’
‘What makes you think I know anything about that?’
‘I’m just asking,’ Gonzalo said.
‘As far as I know,
Guadalupe doesn’t do nothing but take his piece and look the other way. I don’t know nothing about girls. What girls are these?’
‘Who would know?’
Ramiro picked a speck of tobacco from his tongue and flicked it away. ‘You don’t want to go down that road.’
‘I know Guadalupe’s in with the narcos,’ Gonzalo said. ‘Who tells him what to do?’
‘What’s this worth to me?’
‘You want money?’ Gonzalo asked.
‘Of course I want money! How much do you have?’
Gonzalo brought out his wallet. ‘I don’t have much.’
‘Give me it all.’
‘First tell me what I want to know.’
‘¡Dame el dinero!’ Ramiro barked. He thrust out his hand.
Gonzalo took a sheaf of bills from his wallet and put them on Ramiro’s palm. In the back of his mind he calculated the loss and it pained him. ‘That’s all I have,’ Gonzalo said.
The man counted quickly. ‘This is shit. Cops never have any money.’
‘Tell me who runs Guadalupe. Please.’
Ramiro cast a sour eye on Gonzalo. ‘Can you get me more money?’
‘I don’t have a job,’ Gonzalo said. ‘How can I get you more money?’
‘What you’re asking me for is a dangerous thing.’
‘And you don’t think I can be dangerous?’
‘What do you mean?’
Gonzalo fixed him with a stare. ‘One day the police will be back in business. They can make things easy, or they can make things difficult. And accidents happen when arrests are made.’
Ramiro looked at Gonzalo carefully now. ‘You cops are all corrupt.’
‘That’s what they say.’
‘But you aren’t everywhere. Not even the army is everywhere.’
‘My friend, if you don’t tell me what I want to know, I will make it my business to be wherever you are all the time. You won’t be able to shave without seeing me in the mirror behind you.’
‘I think you would.’
‘Then tell me.’
‘All right, I’ll tell you, but you did not hear it from me. My name should never be mentioned.’
‘I promise.’
‘Okay.’
‘Who tells Guadalupe what to do?’ Gonzalo asked.