The Dog Fighter (15 page)

It was Ramón. The dentist sprawled on the ground before him. His hands before his face. When the dog fighter saw me he threw his own hands above his head.

Amigo! He yelled. I have come to take you to a party.

I offered Jorge my hand but he did not accept.

How did you know where I live? I asked Ramón then.

Shhh! The dentist hissed.

Shhh! Ramón mocked him.

Take him away from here. Now!

Ahorita! Ramón hissed mocking the dentist again. But then he asked in a loud voice. Why are we whispering? Are the other maricones asleep?

Do not call him that. I said. Drunk Ramón looked directly into my eyes and only smiled. He was not afraid.

Come with me! He yelled. All the beautiful women will be there. Unless you prefer the company here.

Please leave now. The dentist hissed at me.

Let me get my money. I said to Ramón.

You do not need money. Ramón said. This is what the businessmen are for.

I followed Ramón north of the plaza mayor toward the abandoned church. As we walked he spoke of the women we were to meet that night and the drinks the businessmen would buy us. I could not listen to him. I did not know why I had defended the dentist from Ramón. The kiss Jorge shared with the mysterious young man had disgusted me. But watching them walk arm in arm to the soft music of the back room had made me jealous. And the jealousy I felt slowly replace my disgust then only made me more anxious to fight the dogs. To be near to her even if Cantana stood between us.

At the abandoned church we came to the gate I had seen Ramón and the other men enter some weeks before. The tall stone walls of the old church rose to meet boarded windows. On a stool behind the gate a man sat smoking a cigarette.

Qué pasa? Ramón asked the man as he stood and opened the gate for us.

Nada. He answered. Y tú?

Nothing good.

Both men laughed at this and shook hands with great familiarity.

Through a side door of the church I followed Ramón down some worn stone steps into an unlit hallway cool and mossy smelling. Ahead there was soft electric light and music and laughter. A couple passed us holding hands and giggling. Through a bright door at the end of the hallway we came to stand on a landing that overlooked an enormous room below hazy with cigarette smoke. Dozens of well dressed men and women sat at rectangular tables drinking. Some stood at a bar to the back of the room. To the music Ramón tapped a ring he wore against the wood railing at the top of some stairs that led down to this. To where men and women were dancing in an open space before a band. Cigarettes cluttered ashtrays and the wet rings from glass bottoms glistened in that light. All the tables were very crowded.

Remember this place. Ramón said to me over the music. This is the best church I know of.

The stone staircase led down to where women spun dancing in colorful dresses. As we walked I searched among them for her. The musicians in light suits played on a stage at the far end of the high ceilinged cantina. The floor moved like dozens of colored pinwheels to the music. Swollen businessmen in wood chairs around rectangular tables whispered into the ears of their skinny mistresses. Two women had paired off and were dancing together. Slicing cleanly through those less graceful. Dancing as if they were alone. Some of the businessmen watched them hungrily. Bringing expensive cigarettes or cigarillos to their wet mouths while nodding to the rhythm.

When the musicians came to the end of their song they held their instruments against their bodies. Accepting the applause with smiles. A small man with a thin black mustache wearing a blue suit stepped onto the stage. He faced the musicians and then the guitar player strummed a soft chord followed by another before the dancers applauded and came together again. The small man in the blue suit began to sing in a low voice about the Bay of Canción.

The sun was setting. He was walking on the beach. As a boy he dove for pearls in the bay. He had had many friends.

Short round candles held to the tables by wax that dripped down their edges. Some set in crags in the crumbling walls. Ramón introduced me to a group of businessmen sitting at one rectangular table and then to a group sitting at another. We went from table to table with our large hands consuming those of the businessmen. The furrowed brows and sunken eyes in shadow from the flickering candles before them. Without the work on the hotel my hands had gone as soft as their own. But still mine were scarred from fighting. Ramón patted the businessmens shoulders and kissed those hands of the mistresses that were offered him.

The small man in the blue suit sang of how disease had killed the pearls. Many of his friends left Canción. The beautiful city became very poor.

The businessman spoke excitedly to Ramón and me about our fights. All of them asked us to sit with them. Offered to buy us drinks. I said thank you and one man laughed.

No hay de qué. He said. You just keep killing dogs.

Finally we came to a table where Vargas sat with the young businessman Rodríguez.

Ramón! Rodríguez said jumping up to find us extra chairs.

Cabrón! Vargas said bringing his drink to his lips.

The man on stage sang of the beauty of the sunset. On the beach he watched the waves gently dying. He knew he would never see his friends again. Only the sunsets are certain.

I was very disappointed that she was not there. For this and because I knew then that after what had occurred with Ramón the dentist would not allow me to return to my small room at the compound. As the last of the notes came to a slow death the man in the blue suit stepped down from the stage. The two women dancing came together as if to kiss but broke apart with the hard strumming of the next song. But in that lull before the new song the other dancers held each other a moment longer comfortably not having to think that anyone watched them.

At our table the businessmen drank damiana. Mescal and rum and beer. The teeth of some of the mistresses stained from wine. Without the man in the blue suit singing the yelling and laughter soon blended with the music. Rodríguez sat next to me asking about the fighting of dogs.

With the gloves. He said. You are assured a victory.

You think so? Vargas asked him. Leaning back in his chair so only two of the legs touched the floor. Ramón sat across from us listening to a beautiful young woman who whispered something very important to him into his ear but with her head turned to the side so that she did not see the eyes of the woman that Ramón was smiling at across the table. This woman herself with her hand on the hand of a businessman on her thigh. And this man watching the two women twirling through the crowd of less graceful dancers.

Of course. Rodríguez answered with a straight face. Believing what he said because the fugitive did not disagree.

Maybe the businessmen should let you fight. Vargas said.

You see! Rodríguez said to Ramón. We need to convince them. I would be great.

You would piss yourself. Ramón said and those at the table laughed. Rodríguez sat back in his chair.

It was then that I felt a hand rest on my shoulder. A mistress from another table.

Buenas noches. She whispered into my ear. Her breath warm on my neck. May I sit with you?

Ramón smiled at me. The other mistresses looked over this young woman. The businessmen smiled as she came around and sat on my lap. Her black silk dress tight against her thighs when she crossed her ankles. Her fingernails tracing the back of my neck as she put her arm around my shoulder. I leaned back some shivering as she did this. I had not been touched by a woman in some time. Ramón raised his glass and the others at the table did the same except for one businessman who poured rum into a cup in front of me.

Canción. Ramón raised his own glass.

The alcohol settled warmly in my stomach.

I do not know how much I drank that night. I drank to enjoy this woman in my lap. To stop thinking about her whose name I did not know and who I never encountered for all of my walking and searching. The woman in my lap was very beautiful. When I was not holding my glass or bringing it to my lips I rested my hand on her thigh. Slowly passing my fingers over her dress. Adding some pressure now and then to which she responded by pressing back against me. I lit her cigarettes for her. Leaned some to smell the fragrance of her hair. Her perfume. Her nails were painted red. Her eyes smiling dark and large and beautiful. Leaning to speak so close to me I felt her lips brush my ear.

Throughout the night Rodríguez continued to bother Ramón and Vargas about the fighting of dogs. Once he faced me and drunk he asked.

Do you enjoy the fighting?

No. I answered and Vargas heard this and smiled.

The businessmen at the table now leaned in to hear through the music.

Why do you fight then? Rodríguez asked.

But I did not want to give them my answer. I was drunk. I no longer fought to hear my name on their voices. Or to see myself in the stories my grandfather told. I wanted to tell them the truth. That it was to be near to her. But that was our secret. Instead I answered.

Because it is what I am best at.

Vargas raised his glass to this and drank on his own.

I would be good at it. Rodríguez said with a straight face. I would be better than the rest of you.

Ramón raised his glass and we all drank. When I sat my glass down on the table for the woman in my lap to fill across the room the small man in the blue suit came through a side door followed by Cantana with her holding his arm. This man led Cantana and her to a small round table near the stage. She sat facing me. I found her eyes in the blur of all the alcohol I had drunk and arms and bodies of those dancing and passing between us. When I smiled surprised to see her it made her laugh a small laugh over which she covered her mouth with her hand. Cantana looked over his shoulder at our table but Ramón was already on his way to the businessmans and this kept me hidden from El Tapado. As Ramón crossed the room I realized the mistress remained sitting in my lap. I felt feverish then thinking she would not know of my longing for her with this other woman between us. My smile was gone but hers was not. She looked down to the table and then back to me. She was beautiful. Her eyes a brilliant green even in that smoke and candlelight. Her hair in tendrils just beyond the dark skin of her bare shoulders.

May I have your attention please. The small man in the blue suit had stepped onto the stage as the song ended. His sweaty forehead glistening under the lights. Looking for us all in that light directly in his eyes. Tonight we have a very special guest of Señor Cantana who is going to sing for us. A young woman with a fine voice.

I sat forward to applaud as the man in the blue suit welcomed her to the stage and the mistress sitting in my lap almost fell to the floor. She removed her arm from my shoulder and took a step from our table when Vargas grabbed her hand and led her to his own lap.

Me recuerdas? I heard him say.

Por supuesto. She smiled.

When she stood before us all on the stage one of the musicians stepped forward to whisper into her ear something that made her laugh. I was very jealous of this man. He stepped back and just as he strummed his guitar there came the distinct sound of glass shattering at the back of the room. Yells around men fighting. I had not noticed Rodríguez stand from the table and stumble to the bar. The man in the blue suit encouraged the musicians to play something different. Everyone in the bar stood. Over their heads I could see her step from the stage. I could see Ramón push toward us through the crowd on his way to Rodríguez fighting some man at the bar. The musicians began playing. A woman cried out. I turned and there stood Rodríguez holding a knife. Blood over his hand. The other man fell back against the bar clutching his stomach. I turned to see Cantana take her by the arm and lead her back through the door through which they had entered. When she looked over her shoulder at me she smiled. Dumb I raised my hand and waved.

Vargas and Ramón were fighting friends of the young man Rodríguez had stabbed. The young businessman was looking at his hands. I shoved my way through the shoving and grabbed one man by his shoulders and held him while Ramón punched him in the face once. The man slumped to the ground. Then I stepped forward and took Rodríguez by the arm. The bartender climbed onto the bar holding a heavy stick. Swinging at whoever came near. I dragged Rodríguez through the crowd and up the stairs. Ramón and Vargas fighting behind us. Their backs to the stairs back stepping. Vargas fighting two men at once.

When the man at the gate saw the blood on Rodríguezs shirt and hands he shut the gate behind us.

Let no one in or out. He said before he turned to run down the steps into the abandoned church.

It was quiet outside. The air cool and easy to breathe. The smell of smoke and alcohol thick still in my nostrils. Rodríguez was panting. Soon Ramón and Vargas came up the stairs passing the man at the gate. Rodríguez wiped the blood from his hands onto a silk handkerchief. Staining it. As I let Ramón and Vargas through the gate Ramón yelled at the young businessman.

What happened in there?

No sé. Rodríguez mumbled.