She purchased his child, says the other Epifanio, waving Chino off. He didn’t conquer anything.
She isn’t my child and I didn’t sell her.
Close enough and you DID sell her, my friend. Why do you think you are at this moment conversing with me instead of grubbing aluminum cans at the city dump?
You are not on the farm anymore, adds Chino, shaking his head and laughing. Who do you think you’re dealing with, Indio?
Well, believe what you want, it doesn’t matter to me.
These are the basics, says Epifanio Ramiriz: Do what I say and maybe I pay you. Don’t piss me off, pendejo.
Oh ho! laughs Chino. Tell him about your principles, Indio.
What principles? Are you a Jesus freak?
Just a freak, I’m afraid, says Chino. Xosé told me. He has his own little list of will’s and won’ts. It’s unbelievable!
Is this true?
Let me ask you a question, says Epifanio Gomez: If one of those fat Germans told you he wanted to fuck your sweet little grandmother in the ass and gave you a hundred dollars, what would you do?
Oh, you want to see if I have standards, too? Perhaps I should kill this kraut on the spot, would that make you happy you smoked sausage? Let me tell you what I would do: Ask him for another hundred!
Chino laughs so hard he falls to the ground, holding his belly. O my god, he cries, O god!
Epifanio Ramiriz, too, begins to chuckle. You are a nervy little sausage, I give you that. He shakes his finger at him. Now I begin to see how you got into Miss Teresa’s pants.
* * *
This is the problem, my Indio, my little man, my spicy sausage, this is the mistake we must guard against, you and I: Giving obese Bavarians everything they ask for. This only invites disaster and the magnificent Hotel Montalbanejo can only sustain so many of those. Then it loses status and the clientele goes elsewhere. May I give you an example?
Please
A drunk gentleman of three-hundred pounds fresh from Dusseldorf who is stuffed with wiener schnitzel and frijoles requests five items: More wiener schnitzel and frijoles, whores, tequila, blow, and a large bottle of Viagra. What do you do?
Send him one girl, more frijoles and all the tequila he wants.
And why would you do this?
So he doesn’t die at the magnificent Hotel Montalbanejo.
What if you think he already has Viagra in his suitcase?
Instruct the whore to take it and allow her to also steal one hundred dollars.
What if he has blow?
Instruct the whore to take it and split it with you.
What if, during the course of the evening, he dies anyway?
Have the whore call you immediately and give her another hundred.
Then what?
Move the body.
Where?
A bar downtown. A bad one. Give them three hundred dollars. Natural causes.
You’re throwing around a lot of money.
It’s worth it. You don’t want him tarnishing the reputation of the magnificent Hotel Montalbanejo.
That’s the spirit, my friend! He taps his head and smiles. I see you are a thinker. And once again I can understand how you seduced the beautiful Teresa.
* * *
Wednesday evening Epifanio arrives at Teresa’s apartment, number 602. He sweeps Maria Guadalupe into his arms, hugging and kissing her with soft words. Tears run down his cheeks. So much has changed! She is dressed to the nines, her hair has been cut and shaped and she reeks of expensive perfume. She struggles to the floor and takes his hand, leading him to the bedroom which is festooned with dolls and pillows. New books are stacked high on new shelves.
After dinner and story time little Maria’s eyelids grow droopy and they tuck her tenderly away. When they close the bedroom door, Teresa unbuttons her blouse and places his hand inside her brassiere. She moves her lips close to his and whispers, Xosé tells me how brashly you boast of your conquest. It is time we make you an honest man.
* * *
Epifanio learns that there are other hotels in the city that serve different patrons: Chinese, Japanese, American, Russian, Brazilian. The French and Italians stay at the same establishment, the British and Americans at another. So, too, Indians and Pakistani’s. When it comes to Mexican drug money, all lines of conflict are obliterated - except between the Japanese and Chinese.
The Japanese think Chinese are barbarians, says Epifanio Ramiriz, the same way we think of you Indios. They look down their noses at them. The Chinese think the Japanese are perverts and they’re not far wrong. I could tell you stories. Very strange stories.
And the Germans?