Bradbury, Ray - SSC 07 (35 page)

 
          
 
"I need a drink, bad."

 
          
 
"Manulo, there's wine here, that bottle
on the floor—"

 
          
 
Manulo went out and shut the door.

 
          
 
A moment later Villanazul stretched with great
exaggeration and strolled about the room.

 
          
 
"I think I'll walk down to the plaza,
friends."

 
          
 
He was not gone a minute when Dominguez,
waving his black book at the others, winked and turned the doorknob.

 
          
 
"Dominguez," said Gomez.

 
          
 
"Yes?"

 
          
 
"If you see Vamenos, by accident,"
said Gomez, "warn him away from Mickey Murrillo's Red Rooster Cafe. They
got fights not only on TV but out front of the TV too."

 
          
 
"He wouldn't go into Murrillo's,"
said Dominguez. "That suit means too much to Vamenos. He wouldn't do
anything to hurt it."

 
          
 
"He'd shoot his mother first," said
Martinez.

 
          
 
"Sure he would."

 
          
 
Martinez and Gomez, alone, listened to
Dominguez's footsteps hurry away down the stairs. They circled the undressed
window dummy.

 
          
 
For a long while, biting his lips, Gomez stood
at the window, looking out. He touched his shirt pocket twice, pulled his hand
away, and then at last pulled something from the pocket. Without looking at it,
he handed it to Martinez.

 
          
 
"Martinez, take this."

 
          
 
"What is it?"

 
          
 
Martinez looked at the piece of folded pink
paper with print on it, with names and numbers. His eyes widened.

 
          
 
"A ticket on the bus to
El Paso three weeks from now!"

 
          
 
Gomez nodded. He couldn't look at Martinez. He
stared out into the summer night.

 
          
 
"Turn it in. Get the money," he
said. "Buy us a nice white pan-ama hat and a pale blue tie to go with the
white ice cream suit, Martinez. Do that."

 
          
 
"Gomez—"

 
          
 
"Shut up. Boy, is it hot in here! I need
air."

 
          
 
"Gomez. I am touched. Gomez—"

 
          
 
But the door stood open. Gomez was gone.

 
          
 
Mickey Murrillo's Red Rooster Cafe and
Cocktail Lounge was squashed between two big brick buildings and, being narrow,
had to be deep. Outside, serpents of red and sulphur-green neon fizzed and
snapped. Inside, dim shapes loomed and swam away to lose themselves in a
swarming night sea.

 
          
 
Martinez, on tiptoe, peeked through a flaked
place on the red-painted front window.

 
          
 
He felt a presence on his left, heard
breathing on his right. He glanced in both directions.

 
          
 
"Manulo! Villanazul!"

 
          
 
"I decided I wasn't thirsty," said
Manulo. "So I took a walk."

 
          
 
"I was just on my way to the plaza,"
said Villanazul, "and decided to go the long way around."

 
          
 
As if by agreement, the three men shut up now
and turned together to peer on tiptoe through various flaked spots on the
window.

 
          
 
A moment later, all three felt a new very warm
presence behind them and heard still faster breathing.

 
          
 
"Is our white suit in there?" asked Gomez's
voice.

 
          
 
"Gomez!" said everybody, surprised.
"Hi!"

 
          
 
"Yes!" cried Dominguez, having just
arrived to find his own peephole. "There's the suit! And, praise God,
Vamenos is still in it!"

 
          
 
"I can't see!" Gomez squinted,
shielding his eyes. "What's he doing?"

 
          
 
Martinez peered. Yes! There, way back in the
shadows, was a big chunk of snow and the idiot smile of Vamenos winking above
it, wreathed in smoke.

 
          
 
"He's smoking!" said Martinez,

 
          
 
"He's drinking!" said Dominguez.

 
          
 
"He's eating a taco!" reported
Villanazul,

 
          
 
"A juicy taco," added Manulo.

 
          
 
"No," said Gomez. "No, no, no.
. . ."

 
          
 
"Ruby Escuadrillo's with him!"

 
          
 
"Let me see that!" Gomez pushed
Martinez aside.

 
          
 
Yes, there was Ruby! Two hundred pounds of
glittering sequins and tight black satin on the hoof, her scarlet fingernails
clutching Vamenos' shoulder. Her cowlike face, floured with powder, greasy with
lipstick, hung over him!

 
          
 
"That hippo!" said Dominguez.
"She's crushing the shoulder pads. Look, she's going to sit on his lap!"

 
          
 
"No, no, not with all that powder and
lipstick!" said Gomez. "Manulo, inside! Grab that drink! Villanazul,
the cigar, the taco! Dominguez, date Ruby Escuadrillo, get her away. Andalay
men!"

 
          
 
The three vanished, leaving Gomez and Martinez
to stare, gasping, through the peephole.

 
          
 
"Manulo, he's got the drink, he's
drinking it!"

 
          
 
"Ay! There's Villanazul, he's got the
cigar, he's eating the taco!"

 
          
 
"Hey, Dominguez, he's got Ruby! What a
brave one!"

 
          
 
A shadow bulked through Murrillo's front door,
traveling fast.

 
          
 
"Gomez!" Martinez clutched Gomez's
arm. "That was Ruby Escuadrillo's boy friend, Toro Ruiz. If he finds her
with Vamenos, the ice cream suit will be covered with blood, covered with
blood—"

 
          
 
"Don't make me nervous," said Gomez.
"Quickly!"

 
          
 
Both ran. Inside they reached Vamenos just as
Toro Ruiz grabbed about two feet of the lapels of that wonderful ice cream
suit.

 
          
 
"Let go of Vamenos!" said Martinez.

 
          
 
"Let go that suitr corrected Gomez.

 
          
 
Toro Ruiz, tap-dancing Vamenos, leered at
these intruders.

 
          
 
Villanazul stepped up shyly.

 
          
 
Villanazul smiled. "Don't hit him. Hit
me."

 
          
 
Toro Ruiz hit Villanazul smack on the nose.

 
          
 
Villanazul, holding his nose, tears stinging
his eyes, wandered off.

 
          
 
Gomez grabbed one of Toro Ruiz's arms,
Martinez the other.

 
          
 
"Drop him, let go, cabron, coyote,
vaca!"

 
          
 
Toro Ruiz twisted the ice cream suit material
until all six men screamed in mortal agony. Grunting, sweating, Toro Ruiz
dislodged as many as climbed on. He was winding up to hit Vamenos when
Villanazul wandered back, eyes streaming.

 
          
 
"Don't hit him. Hit me!"

 
          
 
As Toro Ruiz hit Villanazul on the nose, a
chair crashed on Toro's head.

 
          
 
''Air said Gomez.

 
          
 
Toro Ruiz swayed, blinking, debating whether
to fall. He began to drag Vamenos with him.

 
          
 
"Let go!" cried Gomez. "Let
go!"

 
          
 
One by one, with great care, Toro Ruiz's
banana-like fingers let loose of the suit. A moment later he was ruins at their
feet.

 
          
 
"Compadres, this way!"

 
          
 
They ran Vamenos outside and set him down
where he freed himself of their hands with injured dignity.

 
          
 
"Okay, okay. My time ain't up. I still
got two minutes and, let's see—ten seconds."

 
          
 
"What!" said everybody.

 
          
 
"Vamenos," said Gomez, ^'you let a
Guadalajara cow climb on you, you pick fights, you smoke, you drink, you eat
tacos, and now you have the nerve to say your time ain't up?"

 
          
 
"I got two minutes and one second
left!"

 
          
 
"Hey, Vamenos, you sure look sharp!"
Distantly, a woman's voice called from across the street.

 
          
 
Vamenos smiled and buttoned the coat.

 
          
 
"It's Ramona Alvarez! Ramona, wait!"
Vamenos stepped off the curb.

 
          
 
"Vamenos," pleaded Gomez. "What
can you do in one minute and"—he checked his watch—"forty
seconds!"

 
          
 
"Watch! Hey, Ramona!"

 
          
 
Vamenos loped.

 
          
 
"Vamenos, look out!"

 
          
 
Vamenos, surprised, whirled, saw a car, heard
the shriek of brakes.

 
          
 
"No," said all five men on the
sidewalk.

 
          
 
Martinez heard the impact and flinched. His
head moved up. It looks like white laundry, he thought, flying through the air.
His head came down.

 
          
 
Now he heard himself and each of the men make
a different sound. Some swallowed too much air. Some let it out. Some choked.
Some groaned. Some cried aloud for justice. Some covered their faces. Martinez
felt his own fist pounding his heart in agony. He could not move his feet.

 
          
 
"I don't want to live," said Gomez
quietly. "Kill me, someone."

 
          
 
Then, shuffling, Martinez looked down and told
his feet to walk, stagger,
follow
one after the other.
He collided with other men. Now they were trying to run. They ran at last and
somehow crossed a street like a deep river through which they could only wade,
to look down at Vamenos.

 
          
 
"Vamenos!" said Martinez.
"You're alive!"

 
          
 
Strewn on his back, mouth open, eyes squeezed
tight, tight, Vamenos motioned his head back and forth, back and forth,
moaning.

 
          
 
"Tell me, tell me, oh, tell me, tell
me."

 
          
 
"Tell you what, Vamenos?"