The Dead Women of Juarez Read Free

in the sun and sweating out the people inside. On foot he could move. On foot he was free. He didn’t want to be trapped or singled out, and pedestrians seemed to be invisible to everyone with wheels.
    El Club Kentucky was his stop. He dashed across the street and got a horn and a curse for it. It was cool under the bar’s green awning and milder still inside. The ceiling was high and lined with heavy wooden beams. A few chandeliers with yellow lights, fake candles, dangled overhead, but most of the light came by way of the street glare.
    Only a few men were there at this hour in the middle of the week. Kelly took a stool at a dark-varnished oak bar that stretchedall the way to the back. A TV showed
fútbol
, but the screen was over Kelly’s head so he couldn’t watch even if he wanted to.
    The Kentucky was almost a hundred years old, but it was in good shape because customers and money kept coming in. They said Bob Dylan drank there and Marilyn Monroe, too. The bar fixtures were as old as the place: big, serious-looking wood and glass and age-foggy mirrors. The bartender was an old man wearing an apron. He gave Kelly a Tecate in the bottle with a little bowl of lime slices.
    “
¿Dónde está Estéban?
” Kelly asked the bartender.
    “
¿Quién sabe?
” the bartender replied.
    Kelly had beer and lime and waited. If it were later in the year, he’d see what tickets to the bullfights were available and lay out for cheap seats he could hustle to drunken
turistas
who didn’t know they could just walk in and get better views for less money.
    Estéban didn’t show for over an hour and two beers later. He passed Kelly without seeing him but when Kelly called his name, Estéban turned around like he wasn’t surprised at all. “Hey,
carnal. ¿Que onda?
” Estéban asked. “Where you been, man?”
    Estéban took the stool next to Kelly. He was lighter than Kelly and shorter, but his skin was blasted deep brown by genes and time in prison work crews on the American side. He wore sunglasses, but took them off inside. Kelly kept his on.
    “I been around,” Kelly said. “Lookin’ for you.”
    “Hey, I ain’t hard to find. What happened to your face? You been at
el boxeo
again? When you going to learn, man?”
    “I guess never,” Kelly said. “What you drinking?”
    “Gonna spend big today, huh? I’ll have a
cerveza
if you’re buyin’.”
    Kelly ordered a Tecate for Estéban and another for himself. The bartender brought fresh limes.
    “It’s that
puto
Ortíz,” Estéban complained to Kelly. “People he knows… you don’t want to be no part of that world.”
    “I just want to lace up my gloves,” Kelly said. He wished Estéban would stop talking about it. “I don’t want to fuck the guy.”
    “Everybody he fucks, you fuck,” Estéban returned.
    “That doesn’t make any goddamned sense.”
    “To you, maybe not.”
    They drank. Finally Kelly asked, “You got someone else carrying for you?”
    Estéban put his hand over his heart. “What you thinking, man? I been on vacation for a few days, you think I forgot all about you? I ain’t some asshole; I know about loyalty.”
    “Well, I took that fight because I couldn’t find you. Rent don’t pay itself,” Kelly said.
    “I was down in Mazatlán for a while to see my cousin get hitched. Me and Paloma both. You offending me, man.”
    Kelly finished his beer. “I don’t want to argue; I want to get some work.”
    “What, like Ortíz gets you work?”
    “Shut up about him.”
    “Hey, all right,” Estéban said. He clapped Kelly on the shoulder. “Listen: I’m back in town and I gots plenty of stuff for you. In fact, I was goin’ to call you today and see if you wanted to carry some shit for me.”
    “What kind of shit?”
    “The usual kind of shit. Don’t bust my balls, okay?”
    Kelly signaled the bartender for another beer. He put some money on the rail and the old man made it disappear. A fresh bottle of Tecate came, still sweating