Free The Dead Women of Juarez by Sam Hawken Page B

sure.”
    He tossed his gym bag in the back and used the running board to climb in. The bed of the truck was rubberized and clean. Kelly found a spot beside the cat crates and settled in. Ortíz shut himself up front and the truck pulled out.
    They drove almost an hour until they reached a long, low building on the far side of Ciudad Juárez. Kelly had never been there, but he recognized what it was: a
palenque
where fighting cocks did battle. It was not a
turista
spot, and the neighborhood was rotting into the desert flats where broad sprawls of
colonias
held sway.
    Ortíz got out and so did the men. Kelly saw one of them wore a gun open on his hip. The air smelled of dust and when the wind shifted the odor of open sewage pits carried from the south. Kelly had grit in his hair.
    “All right,” Ortíz said. “Come on, Kelly. Let’s go inside, have a
cerveza
, all right?”
    They left the men to unload the cocks in their plastic cat crates. Ortíz led the way. Inside the shift to fluorescent lighting left Kelly blind until his eyes adjusted, and then he saw the unpainted concrete walls festooned with grafitti and posters, the terraced benches around the fighting pit and, on the far side, a lively beer bar crowded with men. The terraces were almost empty, but already there were cocks fighting.
    “You ever come to the
palenque
, Kelly?” Ortíz asked.
    “No,” Kelly said.
    “
This
is fighting,” Ortíz said. “You know I love the boxing, but there is nothing better than this. Even when
los perros
fight… it’s not the same.”
    Kelly smelled blood, but in the bar there was too much smoke, beer and the odor of bodies and the whiff of blood vanished. Ortíz paused to talk here and there, but never for long. Kelly waited, and soon they were at the bar itself. Ortíz got two bottles of Tecate and presented one to Kelly.
    “
Salud, dinero, amor y tiempo para disfrutarlo todo
,” Ortíz told Kelly, and it was bottoms up. This was the first beer Kelly had tasted in over a month. Ortíz wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I have six cocks fighting today. Good animals, the best money can buy.”
    Kelly nodded. It was possible to see from the bar the head of the judges in the fighting pit, but not the battle itself, though occasionally a feather flew loose, or there was the sudden, visible flurry of dark wings.
    “I like the pure fighting, you know?”
    “That’s what you said.”
    “How much fighting are you doing these days, Kelly?”
    Kelly shrugged. “Not much. I’ve been training.”
    “And you look
muy bueno
, Kelly. Better than ever. Listen, my friend, I know you like to fight and that you want to earn some money, so maybe you want to hear about this. I have some clients that like the pure fighting. Not boxing, but traditional. You know what I mean?”
    “Not really.”
    “Bare hands. Like they used to do it in the old days.”
    The beer didn’t taste right to Kelly. A bowl of lime slices was close at hand. Kelly took one and sucked the juice. He shook his head. “There’s no sanction for fighting like that,” he said.
    Ortíz spread his hands wide. Around them, men were filing outof the bar area and down to the terraces. Kelly saw one of the men from the truck down by the pit talking to one of the judges. “You think everything that happens has to have paperwork? This is a good time, Kelly. Lots of money. You can even get your dick wet; lots of girls at these things. Pretty girls. Young girls.”
    “I got a girl.”
    “Yeah, you got a ballbusting
puta
,” Ortíz said. He made a face. “Some people, they think maybe
she’s
the one with the cock, you know?”
    Kelly pushed the limes away sharply. “Don’t talk about Paloma like that.”
    “Nothing personal.”
    “Okay, then let’s talk about business. I want to fight. Real fights.”
    “I got nothing like that.”
    “You can get something.”
    “How? There’s nobody backing you, Kelly.”
    “You are.”
    “Sure, sure. I mean who