“Go find yourself a nice bored masochistic housewife,” Joanna said, playfully.
Vicente tossed her a half-hearted smile and retreated to the small door leading to the toilets.
“Holy shit,” whispered Alex.
“Relax. Vicente will come around,ifthere’s anything to come around to. I mean, you’ve only just met this boy, correct?”
“Yes, and don’t say it like we’re dating. I don’t know what you’d call it. We’re not even friends. He’s…”
“Your muse?”
“Don’t be pretentious.”
“What? You don’t think he looks like Lorca? Just a bit? Same nose. Same bright eyes. Same small stature.”
“Are you joking? You said he looked like Anthony Perkins barely an hour ago. Besides, Lorca, may he rest in peace, had to be at least twenty pounds heavierandten years older when he died.”
“So? Jago’s a younger, prettier model, with muscles. I’m not seeing a downside.”
“He’s from a farming region.”
“I rest my case.”
“Lorca’s hometown, actually.”
Joanna smiled quizzically. “That’s an interesting—”
“—coincidence? Yes, it is. Joanna, that’sallit is.”
“He could be a relative. A distant one, at least. Maybe that’s why he was so invested in our little show.”
“I doubt it. Why wouldn’t he say so?”
“Probably just too modest. Look, we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Do you like him? I assume yes, since you brought him to rehearsal.”
“Of course I like him.” Alex popped a croquette into his mouth, praying to any saint who would listen that Joanna would do the same. Or at least drink more. Or complain of a headache and go home. “He looked after me that day, I told you.”
“You didn’t tell us much, but go on.”
“Then he… I don’t know. It was strange. Scary, in a way.”
The motor powering Joanna’s interrogation seemed to pause. “In what way?”
“I went looking for him in his apartment. I found him in this small office, full of… I don’t know how to describe it, except that it creeped me out. Old books, stuffed birds, tapestries with these strange symbols on the wall, a human skull, even—God knows if it was real—and the smell? Like Moroccan incense mixed with straw.”
“Sounds positively fascinating.”
“I suppose it was, until he saw me and screamed at me. I mean, hescreamedat me to get out.”
“After he spent the day looking after you?” Joanna shook her head, taking another sip of her drink. “Sorry, I’m lost.”
“Me too. I just left. Whatever his deal was, I couldn’t stay.”
“I get that.”
“Then today he came by the café.” Alex shrugged, spooning himself more potatoes. “He apologised. Said he was worried his taxidermy hobby would freak me out or something.”
“So, he cared about what you thought, presumably because he wanted to see you again?” Joanna sipped again. “Sounds like an utter psychopath.”
