Down Among the Dead Men

76

Ortiz pulled up in front of the hotel on schedule, driving a souped-up blue and white Volkswagen Beetle, the words baja taxi painted on the side.

“No comments, pocho. I gotta make a living.”

Stifling a smile, Vargas climbed in. “The way Tito described you, I thought you were some badass gangster.”

“Who says I’m not? These are tough times, amigo. Man’s gotta feed his family. You’ll never see Yolanda lift a finger to help, so somebody’s gotta do it.”

He put the car in gear and pulled out, then turned to Vargas, a quizzical look on his face.

“Something different about you.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know. You’re smiling a lot more. If I had to guess, I’d say you just got laid.”

Vargas had no idea how he’d managed to figure that one out and didn’t really want to know.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “It wasn’t Yolanda.”

Ortiz laughed. “You better hope not. She’s done with a guy, she cuts off his privates and hangs ’em on her trophy wall.”

“It’s nice to meet a man who has such love and affection for his family.”

Ortiz laughed again. “You’re a funny man, pocho. ”

“I do my best,” Vargas said.

Ten minutes later, they pulled up to the curb on a dimly lit side street. There was no sign of any whorehouses or bars in the vicinity, just a row of dilapidated buildings-nondescript businesses that were either closed or no longer operating.

“Where are we?” Vargas asked.

“Little Fina’s place is just down the street. I wanted to come a little early so I can make sure you understand the rules.”

“Rules?”

“I told you. Fina makes my cousin look like a prom queen. You gotta be careful how you act around her or she’ll have you gutted in about two seconds flat.”

“That’s comforting,” Vargas said.

“Just remember, I’m the one bringing you to her, so what you say and do reflects on me. Understand?”

Vargas nodded. “So what are these rules?”

Ortiz held up three fingers and started counting them off.

“Rule number one,” he said. “You don’t disrespect Little Fina. Rule number two: You don’t disrespect Little Fina. Rule number three-”

“I’m sensing a pattern here.”

“I mean no offense when I say this, pocho, but you strike me as a bit of a smart-ass. That’s something you want to avoid in front of Fina.”

“Duly noted,” Vargas said. “So when do I get to meet her?”

“You see that red door up the street?”

Ortiz pointed and Vargas looked toward the buildings and found the door he was referring to. The paint job was splotchy, but there was no missing it.

“Yeah, I see it.”

“When that door opens and a cholo in a white suit steps outside to smoke a cigarette, that’s our signal.”

“Why the cloak-and-dagger?”

“Because that’s the way Fina likes it. And don’t be asking dumb questions like that in front of her.”

“I’m starting to get the feeling,” Vargas said, “that your friend is into a lot more than the skin trade.”

“That’s not something you want to be talking about, either. Just stick to the business at hand.”

“You’re really afraid of this woman, aren’t you?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.”

“So then why are you helping me?”

Ortiz shrugged. “You’re a paying customer. And I believe good customer service is the cornerstone of a successful business.”