I travel through the road free return of Tacuichamona, the cold morning air enters through the half-open window, still and calm; a beautiful landscape, little ones towns leaning on the road, I stop at one and buy a liter of Honey of bees and 20 kilos of bean freshly cut tomatoes, zucchini and radishes. The road is in very good condition, if you drive slowly, there are frequent curves. While I enjoy a pumpkin and panocha empanada I turn on the radio and tune in to some voices… in a dialogue… interesting…
“Indio Bernal carefully feels the thick bandage around his neck. The cloth wrap restricts his movements, so he has to twist his entire body to pick up the phone and talk on it.
“Say.”
“Bossit's me.”
“Where are you?”
“In Dallas, picking up La Texana. You asked me, do you remember?”
“Oh yeah. Since I they shot I don’t think the same.”
“I'm so sorry for what happened to you, boss. These days you can't go anywhere without some fast-paced drug showing up. shooting up like crazy. How is the? “
“Better than La Viejona. Where they sent her, she no longer feels anything. I saw the nahual, friend. I looked him right in the eyes and I live to tell the tale. I still do not believe it. When does the flight from La Texana arrive?”
“Three hours late due to bad weather in London. I booked a room for both of us. I come back tomorrow.”
“Two rooms, Pablo. “It is a very valuable commodity.”
“I'm not going to touch her, boss. “I just thought a room would be better, to have her closer and not lose sight of her.”
“Remember that you only have one eye, if you want to keep it, don't touch the merchandise.”
“Sure, boss, sure. “It hasn’t even crossed my mind.”
“We all have bad thoughts, Pablo; They arise with opportunity. Remember that James, the brother of the Lord, said… “Each one is tempted by his own desire, which draws him and seduces him. Then, when desire has conceived, let sin stop; and sin, once consummated, stops death.”
“It's clear.”
“I hope so. See you tomorrow.”
“See you then, boss, with the merchandise.”
Indio Bernal hangs up. The phone rings again. He still hadn't let go.
“Say.”
“Hello, Indian. I'm Pedro.”
“Peter, where are you?”
“In Las Vegas. “I’m leaving tonight for Houston, so I’ll see you tomorrow night as planned.”
“I can't wait to see you. Is Emilio coming with you?”
“I'm afraid not. She has business in Detroit. I heard that you were a little scratched in hot Culiacán. Are you okay?”
The Indian touches the bandages on his neck and shoulder.
“I will Survive.”
“Women and guns have never combined well.”
“I think the same.”
“Have I ever told you about Sheila, my second wife, who woke me up one day with the cold barrel of a .45 at the end of the fence?
“Not that I remember.”
“Sheila discovered that I was fucking La Mona, who later became my third wife. “She threatened to blow my banana if she kept doing it.”
“He fucked.”
“I swore on my grandmother Camelia's grave that I wouldn't do it anymore. And as soon as she uncocked I punched her in the nose. But funny thing, if she shot me in the right foot, it was La Mona.”
“Your third wife?”
“That's how it is. “She discovered that I was fucking Zulma Chávez, who at that time was dancing at La Botana.”
“Did you marry her?”
“With who, with Zulma?”
“Yeah.”
“No. “She would have done it, but she was killed along with Rafa Pereira, on the cartel's yacht, ten years ago, this day of the Lord.”
“I remember, Tijuana against Sinaloa.”
“Maybe it was for the best. I mean, I wouldn't marry her. The women and me, I don't know. Over time we didn't get along. “See you tomorrow, Indio.”
“See you tomorrow, Pedro; Happy Easter.”
“I hope so Boss, Happy Easter.”
You hear a window open and the wind whistles between the beach and the palm trees making the curtains rattle, then footsteps on the wooden floor… and silence… I turn off the radio and step on the accelerator, immersed in the landscape, thinking about the Eclipse and the Ulama Hip.
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