“Are you okay?”
“Yes! Sorry. I just have a lot of energy right now. I’ve never felt like this. Like I’m drawing in and pushing out so much all at the same time. But it’s like… there’s something I need as well, andI’m not sure what that is.” She reached across the table and took Vicente’s wrist. “I need to find out. Will you at least understand that?”
Vicente shook his head, taking a long, slow sip of his drink. “If this is what you want, I won’t fight you.”
“Thank you, my love.”
“Okay. What does that mean, then? Do you want me to invite Jago to the next rehearsal? Or to the one after that?” Alex made no effort to hide the hesitation in his words, remembering only as he took the last croquette that he had no way of actually contacting Jago, short of trying to find his apartment again.
Joanna waved away his suggestion. “Let me play with it first. I need….” She covered her mouth, releasing her energy again in one great, muffled roar that was followed by a broad grin. “I’m excited! Aren’t you? I want to get started right away.”
Vicente signalled the waiter to bring their bill. “All right. I was just going to walk Alex home.”
“Me?”
“Do that,” Joanna said, snatching the bill from the table before either of them could grab it. “I’m going straight home. I need this.”
“Vicente,” Alex protested. “I’m fine. No late-night stops at Black and White, I promise.”
“Why don’t you both go to Black and White?” Joanna suggested, passing the bill back to the waiter with some cash. “That way you can keep an eye on each other, and Vicente can beat the living hell out of the man who robbed you if you see him again.”
“Are you saying I couldn’t do that myself?”
“Or that I would?” Vicente winced at the suggestion.
“You two are no fun tonight.” She raised her glass, its contents now mostly melted ice water and a sad slice of orange. “To ourBlood Wedding.”
The boys met her toast, drained their glasses in unison, and left the café. Joanna wrapped them each in an enormous hug, then shot off faster than either of them could have kept up.
“Will she be okay?”
“Oh yeah. Besides, she’s made her mind up. The fight is hopeless.” Vicente stepped out of the way of two drag queens whose wigs had been lacquered and stretched more than a foot in every direction. “Black and White won’t open for another hour or two.”
“I really don’t feel like it, do you?”
“Come on then.”
“What?”
“I promised you a walk home.”
Alex smiled, suddenly happier for the invitation. They took their time, weaving through the streets of Chueca and watching the bands of two, three or more homos and other misfits darting from door to door in search of their night out. A surly Moroccan-looking bouncer admitted a pair of muscular, leather-clad kinksters to a darkened doorway while neon-coloured t-shirts with cut-off waists made a gaggle of freshly minted twinks impossible to miss. In Cordoba, or even Seville, they probably would have been detained, sent home, or worse. No matter how familiar it began to seem, watching Madrid’s most colourfulcharacters—straight, gay or otherwise—just going about their lives like the party would never end, always made Alex smile.
“I really hope you know what you’re doing,” Vicente said as they turned into his street. The words hadn’t been accusatory or even cynical. Just concerned.
“I’ve been telling myself that since we started this. It’ll be great. Trust me.”
“I mean this guy.”
“Come on, Vis. Really?”
“Don’t ‘come on, Vis’ me. I do trust you.” Vicente shook his head, turning toward a mixed group who’d burst into song at the end of the street. “Okay, I’ll drop it. You’re a big boy, and if you think he can help the play…”
Alex put a hand on Vicente’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
As they neared Alex’s block, flashing red lights reflected off the walls overlooking a small side street—the same one where Alex had been robbed the night before. Behind an ambulance and two police bikes, they saw a small white car, crumpled at the front where it had hit the wall at obvious speed. Between the pulsing lights, Alex made out the thick shape of a man pinned against the wall by what remained of the hood.
“Jesus,” Vicente said. “Hey, what are you doing?”
