The Empanada Brotherhood Read Online Free PDF Page A

relationships and tinged by enormous sorrow.
    Alfonso and I wandered around for a spell discussing the movie. We circled the Washington Square fountain a half dozen times and then watched some bearded guys moving their pawns and bishops at the southwest corner chess tables. Alfonso had on his thin yellow sarape and a shaggy purple scarf. It was sunny but cold.
    â€œJeanne Moreau reminds me of my girlfriend Renata,” Alfonso said. “Yesterday I received another letter from her, the second this week. Five pages long. Threatening to enter a convent if we don’t get married soon. She sent a picture of herself in a bathing suit.” He paused. “My other girl, Sofía, is like Jules—she’s patient, she’s deferential, she’s understanding. Sometimes I despise her for that.”
    â€œI would fall in love with Jeanne Moreau,” I said. “I wouldn’t care what happened.”
    â€œYes you would,” Alfonso said, patting my back. “Let’s go to Figaro’s for a peek at their cute new waitress.”
    We walked down Thompson Street, turned right on Bleecker, and stopped at the coffeehouse. The windows were blurry with condensation. We found a cleared area andpeered inside at cozy people nursing hot chocolates while playing chess.
    Alfonso pointed. “There she is. The little blonde one. She speaks with a strange accent, I think from Boston. I wouldn’t mind screwing her just to get my rocks off.”
    I said, “Speaking of that, right now while we’re standing in the cold, Carlos the Artist is using my apartment to take out his frustrations on some poor waif while his wife probably sits at home ignorant of the whole affair.”
    Alfonso couldn’t care less. “In her letter Renata described ten ways she plans to have sex with me. She’s highly inspired in bed. Of course, it’s a trap. Though by comparison, making love with Sofía is like eating a lukewarm bowl of soup or reading Proust.”
    Somebody tapped my shoulder. It was Carlos with a sexy plump girl on his arm. Fifteen minutes ago she had been wearing red lipstick that was now smeared all over the painter’s five o’clock shadow. Carlos slipped me my apartment key, winked, and whispered, “A thousand thanks, amigo.” Then he and the girl stepped over a bum and sauntered off arm in arm, pleasantly exhausted.
    â€œI feel sorry for his wife,” I said. “It’s a rotten thing to do.”
    â€œThat
is
his wife,” Alfonso said, adjusting his purple scarf with an energetic flourish.

11. Ambition
    â€œOh my, you’re back already?” Cathy’s eyes had a suspicious look. “It must be the perfume I’m wearing. Welcome to our humble studio. Please don’t clap or throw me plata until the performance is over, okay?”
    â€œOkay.” I sat on the floor far from them and wrapped my arms around my knees.
    Cathy said, “Do you know anything about flamenco, blondie?”
    I shook my head. “No.”
    Jorge reached one hand down to warm up at the heater beside his feet, then he extended the other hand. He was wearing his porkpie hat.
    â€œIt’s not something I’m going to explain,” Cathy said. “You just have to watch us and learn for yourself. Okay?”
    â€œOkay,” I said again.
    Raising her hands, she fiddled with her hair, tucking loose strands back into the bun. Out of boredom Jorge played a fast little riff that he would not have included while Cathy danced.
    She said, “And just so it’s clear, Chuy’s a friend of mine but I would never screw him, do you understand?”
    I nodded my head. “Yes.”
    â€œHe has a lot of money, and sometimes he helps people. Who knows why, but there’s not a string attached. Some bastards are also sentimental if you play your cards right.”
    I nodded some more, like one of those dipper birds on the side of a water