As the clinic adjoined the jail, we backtracked to the guarded entrance. The local police coexisted in uneasy balance with the federales. For better or worse, as long as no overt drug deals went down and no important tourists turned up missing, the zona operated as a self-governing entity. The army only intervened in extreme situations, like the shoot-out at the corner of Reforma and Paseo Colón, outside Boys Town.
I expected we might have trouble rousing someone, but the médico worked nights, just like the ladies. He had a small waiting area with a few chairs, a desk, and an exam room, near the jail. I also didn’t think he was the man we sought because he couldn’t be more than forty.
“Good evening,” the doctor said. “You sick? Maybe you want medicine? For ten dollars, I write a script for Valium. Maybe you suffer from nervous exhaustion?”
His English was better than most, but then it would be, considering he dealt with Americans all the time. I’d noticed that only a small portion of the zona catered to locals—the places up near Club New York. Past that lay Tranny Alley, as Jesse had mentioned. I hoped we didn’t need to go there next.
After some basic negotiation, he deigned to answer questions for twenty, same price as the hooker. Chance flashed his mother’s picture, and the guy shook his head. “Sorry, no. Never saw her.”
“Who worked here before you?” I asked.
“Old Doc Rivera? He has a room two blocks over and he sings sometimes down at the Timpani Club.”
Two blocks over. That bordered the area where gringos weren’t encouraged to wander, but I didn’t imagine Chance could be discouraged.
“Muchas gracias,” I said to the doc as we headed out.
On the way, we passed any number of small cantinas and pharmacies, where they tried to sell Chance some Viagra to enhance his whoring experience. I snickered.
“I don’t want to hear it,” he muttered.
“At least they didn’t direct you to Tranny Alley. You’re awfully pretty.”
“I’m so glad I entertain you.” But when he glanced my way, I saw the faint hint of a smile in his eyes.
“You always did.” That much was true—whatever else our problems, we always had fun together.
Trust and intimacy, on the other hand, give us trouble.
“Good to know you remember some of it fondly.” He wrapped an arm about my shoulders to guide me around a passel of noisy Texans congregated outside a bar.
A wave of nostalgia hit me so hard I almost staggered. Once I would have slid my arm around his waist and leaned into him. Once he would’ve slid his hands into my hair as he kissed me, careless of people passing by around us. When Chance touched me, the world disappeared.
I struggled not to lose sight of why we were here, not to lose myself in him. His step slowed as if he felt that same sweet magic. Much as I tried and as far as I ran, I didn’t know whether I’d ever be entirely free of him. He lowered his head as if to kiss me.
“Hey, roja! How much?”
Given that I wore a ruffled skirt and a peasant blouse, I could understand the guy’s mistake, at least from the back, but Chance growled as he turned, pushing me behind him in the same motion. I’d never seen him wear quite that expression.
“Back the fuck off, redneck.”
“Take it easy.” The cowboy held up his hands as if to say he didn’t want a problem. “I didn’t realize she was your whore.”
I winced. That wouldn’t make it better. Impotent as we both felt right now, Chance would be spoiling for a fight.
“You need to find another chica,” I told him, polite as I could manage.
The guy had two friends with him, who laughed. “What a dumb fuck,” one mumbled. “Don’t he know to leave the ball and chain at home?”
On the corner the policía stirred, glanced our way. Local law enforcement could be swayed with a bribe, but the Texans might have more cash, if it came down to it. Even wounded, Chance could kick their asses, easy, but unless he had a fat wallet too, we’d wind up in jail. I’d noticed there weren’t many white women on the street.
“Let it go,” I whispered. “This isn’t a place to start trouble.”
He exhaled slowly. “I know what I’m doing.”
Chance lashed out in a lightning strike. The guy who’d called me a whore took a palm to the throat, and the cops started for us at a run. The other two went down in quick succession. By the time the cops reached us, the three lay in a groaning pile. I think they expected to have to break up a fight, not deal with injured idiots.
“They called her a foul name,” Chance said humbly. “My mother raised me to respect women.” That might sound funny coming from somebody prowling around the zona, but the officers simply looked confused. “Perhaps this will help offset the cost of dealing with these idiots?” I didn’t see the size of the bill he offered but the police officers jerked the Texans to their feet. They’d spend the night in jail instead of the arms of their favorite ladies.
We walked on. “You just couldn’t resist, huh?”
“Nobody talks to you like that,” he said quietly.
That sent a shiver of pleasure through me. “You’ve been practicing. You’re faster than you used to be.”
He shrugged. “Training helps me deal with excess energy.”
Surely he didn’t intend to imply he hadn’t slept with anyone since I’d been gone. I lacked the courage to ask and wasn’t sure I could trust his answer anyway.
Just before the zona devolved into rougher territory, I spied a hand lettered sign that read TIMPANI. It didn’t look like much, just a dingy white building with an open doorway. Few patronized the club, mostly older men, but pretty young girls sat on each of their laps. An old man played a battered guitar at a table near the door.
I shook my head. “Some retirement.”
“That’s him.” Chance sounded sure, so he started forward, tapped the musician on the shoulder. “Doc Rivera?”
The old man lowered the guitar with a bemused expression. “Sí, so I was, once.” Most people in Boys Town spoke broken English at least, it seemed.
“May we buy you a drink or a few minutes of your time?”
Rivera laughed. “My time is not as valuable as it used to be, so I will take the drink and thank you for it.”
I went to the bar and signaled the bartender for a round, and he delivered them in cleanish glasses. After paying with a five, I waited for my change, which he gave with a scowl. When I returned to the table, Chance was flashing the picture once more. This time, however, we received a much different reaction.
“Ay, Dios... it has been so many years. How is Min?”
“She went missing in Laredo,” I said quietly. “Perhaps you could tell me how you know her?”
God, I hoped Rivera wouldn’t say Min was his favorite girl. When Chance reached for me, I laced our fingers together and didn’t flinch when he squeezed too tight.
“She worked for me,” he answered at length. “Min prepared salves and potions for the ladies who could not afford to go to a farmacia for their medicines.”
“But she left?”
“Yes... maybe thirty years ago? She did not say good-bye. I have worried about her over the years.”
“Well,” I said. “She was fine up until about a week ago. This is her son.”
Doc Rivera shook Chance’s hand. “Mucho gusto. Sí, I see her in you around the eyes...” He tilted his head. “But I am sorry to hear of your trouble.”
Chance downed his beer in one swallow. “Is there anything else you can tell us? Anything that might help point us in the right direction?”
The doctor glanced toward the open door. When I turned, I didn’t see anything, but his face changed, became closed and tight. “No. I’m afraid it is very late, and I have stayed too long already. Buenas noches.” He headed for the back door in an uneven gait.
“You get the feeling there’s something they aren’t telling us?” Chance said.
I stood, dusted my hands on my skirt. “You think? They’re all scared to death.”
As we left, he reached for me, tucked me against his side. The gesture warmed me, though I knew he couldn’t protect me. In fact, close proximity to Chance could prove dangerous. We’d already proved that.
“Come on, love. Let’s get you to bed. You look busted.”
Second time he’d used that endearment, and I couldn’t let it go, not this time. Not when it roused such an awful ache. “Please don’t call me that.”
Chance paused, ignoring calls from ladies in nearby doorways, and cupped my face in his hands. His voice rasped with longing. “You think my feelings for you dried up when you walked away, Corine? You’re still my love, even if you don’t love me back.”
Oh, God.