Boy Kills Man (5 page)

‘You got dope?'

‘Is what I just said, dumbass.'

‘Alberto …' I trailed off there, tipped my head to one side. ‘Is everything OK?'

One time we had made a delivery to the airport for Galán, and earned ourselves a ready rolled reefer as a tip. Our contact there said he could always help us out on that front, and even some powder if we were interested, but we never went back for more. Alberto had been eager to fire up the joint on the way home, but after a couple of hits he let me smoke the rest. It clearly hadn't gone down well with him, and I quickly realised why. Now here he was inviting me to get some papers so we could both feel quietly sick all over again.

Alberto reached for a dishcloth, and I pressed him to explain what was going on.

‘It's a gift. No big deal. What else could I do? Say no?'

‘Like you couldn't say no to the pistol?'

Now he turned to me, and I realised he'd been trying to scrub his vest. Alberto looked like he'd eaten a jam waffle in too much of a hurry, but the fierce scowl on his face told me not to question it. All the time he just carried on drying his hands – endlessly turning that cloth until I thought he might start shredding it. Maybe he sensed my alarm, because he lightened up with his next breath, and offered to get the cigarettes himself.

‘Keep your cash,' he said, and pulled a fold of dollar bills from that damn money belt. ‘I just need something to sort me out, all right? Beatriz will be back soon, and I don't want anyone to see me like this but you.'

There had to be one hundred, maybe one hundred and fifty bucks there, and for me that was more than enough. My friend had spots of blood on his vest and a look that told me something very bad indeed had occurred that afternoon. I really didn't know what to think or say. I just took the money he offered me, told him I would see him on the rooftop once I'd picked up the cigarettes and the papers, then left.

I would go straight to bed that night without anyone knowing that I had come home. My mother had yet to return herself, and I found Uncle Jairo dozing in front of a bullfight on the portable. It was the only source of light in the room as the bulb had blown again, which meant shadows blinked and shuddered all around me. I was used to it, and for a while I just lay on my bed and listened to the commentary. I hadn't smoked as much grass as Alberto, but I certainly felt the effects. It wasn't so bad this time. In fact it had been a nice way to see through the dog end of the day. At first Alberto had been so on edge I didn't think he would stay for long. He kept fidgeting and cracking his knuckles, then complained that it was too quiet. The first joint seemed to sort him out, however, and by the time I stubbed out the second one we were happy just to sit back and watch the sun sink behind the mountains.

After that we just wandered through the
barrio.
We hung out by the pool hall, watched a dice game going on outside, and finished up eating cold chicken wings that Alberto bought for us both. I waited for him to tell me what had happened that afternoon, but either it was no big deal or he still had to make sense of it himself. I figured he would tell me all about it in his own time. I had never kept a secret from him, after all.

‘What shall we do tomorrow?' I asked, as I licked the grease from my fingers.

‘Let's just see what it brings,' he had said, like he couldn't be sure the sun would ever rise again. I caught his eye, thinking maybe he would tell me now. Instead, he tossed the box away, burped and patted his barrel-like belly. He was still wearing his money belt underneath, I noticed, though I didn't need to be reminded of the gun he had in there with his ticket and all that money: ‘All I know is it'll be one day less before the match, Sonny. One step closer to the greatest day of our lives.'

My uncle had an attack in the early hours of the morning. I slept right through, the dope must've sent me down deep, but fortunately for him my mother was back. According to her, Jairo awoke shortly after she had turned in. He opened his eyes, saw the TV had been shut down, then tried to call out when it seemed his lungs had done likewise. Mamá had stirred when he crashed from his chair. She found him clutching at his throat as if supernatural hands were trying to strangle him. His inhaler saw off that demon, though when I heard what happened I did wonder if perhaps my father had come home in spirit.

Old Jairo was still out for the count as I ate my breakfast, and so my mother and I spoke quickly and in whispers. I guess we each had our reasons for not wanting to wake him.

‘Are you going to school today, Sonny?'

She asked me the same question every morning, as if school was just an option. I hadn't been inside a classroom for two years, and the more time passed the harder it became to give her the real answer. Alberto figured she preferred to fool herself because it made everything feel safer. That's why I said, ‘Sure I am' as I did every day. Only this time, I followed it with a question of my own. ‘Do you still think about Papa?'

She was warming a pan of milk for the coffee. At first it seemed she hadn't heard me. I realised I had kind of sprung it on her, but it was on my mind and I needed to know. My mother had rich chocolate hair that she only ever wore down after dark. Just then, as she poured the milk into two cups, I noticed grey licks coming through under the clips. It looked nice on her. Made her seem as old as the world, like she'd be here for ever.

‘I pray for him,' she said eventually, and nodded to herself as if at first she'd hadn't been sure of her answer. ‘Just as I pray for you.'

Alberto lived two floors below me. I could make it down there in six giant leaps, so long as I didn't swing off the rail at the foot of each flight. If he didn't answer when I banged on the door then I would often just let myself in. I had a copy of his key, just as he had one for our apartment. Usually it meant he was in but still in bed, but I was always happy to wait until he surfaced. His place looked just like mine, except it didn't have my uncle in it. As a result, I was free to listen to the radio or spend time thinking without being threatened with a kick up the ass.

Of course, I would never walk in without making a big noise. I didn't want him to stir thinking that a thief had crept into the place, nor let him off lightly for being so lazy.

‘Eh,
vagabundo,
it's me! Stop drooling into your pillow and get your big fat pants on.' I strode in chuckling to myself, only to catch my breath at the vision that shrieked and darted behind a partition.

‘Sonny!'

I spun around to face the door, horrified at myself.

‘I saw nothing,' I lied, cringing now. ‘Well—'

‘My God, get out of here!'

I had just set eyes on Alberto's older sister, her hair all wet, clutching a towel to her naked body. She hadn't even wrapped it around her waist, just held it bunched against her belly. I felt like I had just startled an animal so rare that it was hard to be sure I had seen it at all.

‘Oh, Beatriz, I'm so sorry. Really. I was looking for Alberto.'

‘Obviously,' she replied from behind the partition. ‘You half frightened me to death, barging in like that. What were you thinking?'

‘I apologise,' I said struggling to focus on the door. ‘I didn't expect you to be in.'

‘I'm on exam leave, like that's any of your business.'

‘Ah. Can I look now?'

‘No!'

‘Is your brother here please, Beatriz?'

‘He left early, even before Mamá. I assumed you'd be with him, like always.'

‘Not today,' I said eventually, trying hard to sound breezy. Beatriz was only a few years older than Alberto and me, but she was shaping up into a fine-looking young woman. I wasn't sure what rattled me more: what I had seen or what Alberto was up to without me once again.

‘OK,' she said, sounding warmer now. ‘You can relax.'

Sheepishly, I turned back around, and wished my face didn't feel so warm. Beatriz was standing there in a Nacional shirt that almost fringed her knees, drying her hair now with the same towel.

‘I always thought that shirt belonged to Alberto,' I said, struggling to find something to say.

‘It does,' she replied. ‘But then I did just have to dress in a hurry.'

‘I'm sorry.'

‘Stop saying that!'

I grinned at this, and so did she. I thought about saying it suited her better, but my nerves got the better of me. On Alberto, the vertical green and white stripes could make him look like an over-stuffed tube of toothpaste, but on Beatriz it really did look just right. She had coal dark eyes and long hair to match, with a fringe cut high that was new, I thought. Normally I managed to be relaxed around Beatriz, but then I had never paid her this much attention before.

‘Sonny,' she said again, as if to stir me from a spell. ‘You can go now.'

‘Oh. Sure.' I found the door handle and stepped back on to the landing. ‘Sorry,' I said again, for no particular reason, but it sounded like I was apologising for my very existence.

‘I'll let him know you called,' she said, holding back a smile now. ‘Have a good day, Sonny.'

‘You, too. Happy revising.'

‘Er, thanks,' she said, and closed the door.

For a beat I just stood there, and winced as I heard the bolt shoot. ‘Happy revising?' I muttered to myself this time. ‘Oh boy, you have a lot to learn.'

Had Alberto been around just then, he would've made my life a misery. I could've expected an entire morning of grief about how I had handled the situation. I even knew what he would say.

So you busted in on my sister in the buff? You be sure to completely erase that moment from your memory, do you hear? Beatriz is way too good for you. She's older than you, and way out of your league like most girls round here.

Chances are I would've protested my innocence, and then finally laughed about it with him. Instead, I had nobody but myself for company, which didn't amount to much.

Alberto clearly had other things to do: a purpose to his day. He had people to meet, contacts who relied on him to get a job done, and paid out serious money. What did I have? A few pesos in my pocket and a lot of hassle back home.

By the time he caught up with me, watching the soccer behind the pool hall, I was feeling very left out and bitter about it.

‘Hey, kid!' he flopped down beside me now, face up into the sunshine. Alberto had never called me this before, unlike most people in the
barrio.
I didn't make a big deal out of it. I just hoped it wasn't going to become a habit. ‘My sister left a note,' he said next. ‘Apparently you called round earlier.'

‘That's right.' I said nothing more, just hoped that was all she told him. We sat there in silence for a moment, following the match. There wasn't much skill going on here, just a lot of men past their prime flocking after a football. What they needed was new blood: a couple of players to shake up the mix a bit.

‘Shame you weren't with me this morning,' he said next. ‘We could've had a blast.'

The offer seemed a bit late to me. He knew where I lived, after all.

‘Dirty work?' I asked, with both eyes on the ball.

‘Huh?' I sensed him turn to face me, but carried on looking straight ahead. I was busting to ask how many bucks that gun of his had earned once again, but first I needed to remind him we were supposed to be a team. ‘Sonny,' he said next, ‘what is your problem?'

‘Depends on where you've been, I guess.'

‘You wanna know?' he said, raising his voice now. ‘I've been uptown, OK? I went
shopping.
I spent the rest of my money on a new vest to replace the one that got all messed up yesterday, plus a nice new shirt and stuff. I just felt like some treats, that's all. I didn't think I needed your permission. What's got into you?'

I looked across at him now, tried to match his glare. Alberto never lost it with me, not before now, and for once I saw what a threatening presence he could be. Sensing that threat grow, I said: ‘Let's leave it. Just forget we even had this conversation.'

‘It's forgotten,' he said, but stayed right where he was. I could see that he was thinking things through, reading my face for some kind of answer. ‘This is about the gun again, right? Jesus, Sonny!'

‘Yesterday, you came home with blood on your shirt and a pocketful of money. I'm no fool, Alberto. I see there's a link between the two. I just want to know why you won't tell me.'

‘Because there's nothing I can say!' he snapped, but stopped himself from going on. He took a breath, and began again. ‘I can't tell you anything,' he said, calmer now, ‘because if I open my mouth I'll be dead already.' His eyes remained fixed on mine, urging me to understand. They swore me to secrecy, Sonny, and I've got to respect that. Please don't ask me, man. Just understand.'

‘Who are “they”?'

‘The people I'm working for,' he said abruptly, his eyes pinching at the corners. ‘The same people who paid me to do a job so I could buy two tickets to the match. One for me, one for my best friend. Now shut up with the interrogation, and quit mothering me.'

‘Sounds to me like someone has to.'

‘I am
not
a child any more. How many more times, Sonny? I can handle myself.'

It was then he showed me the holster. It was strapped high under his shirt, the gun slotted neatly inside, and I knew for sure that he had left me behind. I only caught a glimpse because he was quick to cover it up again. I looked up, as surprised as I was when he first showed me the pistol itself, and saw that he was grinning.

‘The holster was one of the other things I bought,' he said. ‘I can reach it quicker like this.' He patted his side, the bulge showing through. Next he searched his pockets and pulled out two lime-green lollipops. ‘These were the other thing,' he said, turning all goofy as he offered one to me. There used to be a time when we would spend what pesos we had on sweets. If we had no money we would often try to steal them. We found that made them taste even nicer. ‘I bought a whole box of them,' Alberto told me, and ripped off his wrapper. ‘I think we deserve it.'