Veracruz, Mexico. 1974.

She snatched up the C-note like a baby alligator taking its prey in one quick hungry bite. She motioned for me to wait. I waited. I was her slave and maybe she knew it… or not, but a hundred pesos was a hundred pesos…

She turned and walked a few steps down the alley. I watched as she talked awhile with one of the old hags. Her mom, the pimp. She handed over the money, gesturing in my direction with that animated series of motions that I’d spotted from afar.

The mother eyed me like a cow and nodded her head at Lupe and that was that. Deal done. She strutted back in my direction, head high and nodding merrily with an almost haughty swaggering stride.

She came up and took me by the arm and led me out of the alley. Now I had my prize and we were on our way. Where to? I wondered… but not for long.

As if by mutual unspoken natural propulsion, we wound up sitting at a table in one of the crowded outdoor cantinas by “Los Portales”, the place where I’d spent a good deal of time drinking with Paco or in the company of foreign sailors from the port. It was almost midnight. The place was going full pace by now, marimba bands playing, crowds strolling as the good times rolled. Suddenly the night was all lit up like a crazy drunken carnival again and life was good. The fiery little Indian girl beside me was heating up the night expertly with her own weird little hoodoo spell.

There was a cool breeze off the gulf riding in over the choppy waves beyond the port wall just across the way. All the usual characters were in attendance and sitting there at the open aired bars. Lupe was sitting by my side, life seemed okay. Yeh, life was good. All the feelings of desperate alienation and loneliness dispersed like a fog under the sun-the burning fire of crazy life emanating from this crazy little Lupe.

She hailed the waiter with a sharp whistle and called down two beers with a practiced working girl’s authority. She was in her element there. The waiter obviously knew her. A few other local characters acknowledged her too. She was no stranger to this place where I’d also spent so much time lately. Why hadn’t I ever noticed her here before, I wondered.

Then it hit me. I had seen her before!

Copyright Jonathan Shaw 1974, 2009

Veracruz, Mexico. 1974.

She seemed to be thinking it over now.
“Don’t worry about the money, nena” I repeated. “I got enough to cover the night. It’ll be worth it to ya… Vamos?”
Her eyes rolled back like a cash register for the briefest tenth of a second… Like a cartoon character, rolling up twin cherries in those deepest black pools, like lightning flashing unheard off in the distance before an approaching storm.
It was good, I liked her…
And I guessed she would like me alright too. The whores usually did… especially the young ones like her. I knew she liked the little bit of money I had to spend on her. Or maybe both the money and me… Whatever. No importa….
Finally, she spoke. “Esta bien, Guero,” she said. “Just lemme go tell my mother I’m gonna be away for the night.”
Her mother? Oh-key… I looked around. Where was her fucking mother? Lurking in the shadows down the alley I guessed. One of the old hags hovering like a fucking bloated spider in some dark corner somewhere. Great! Fun for the whole fucking family out on the ho-stroll tonight!
With one hand she brushed my chest as lightly as a tropical wind and my dick near shot out of my pants! It was like an electric shock. I kept my cool… Her other hand was already extended. Gesturing urgently. Demanding…
“Dame algo, guerro, Gimme something for my mother and then we gonna go…”
“Whaddya need?” I asked stupidly.
“Dame cien… A hundred pesos.”
I shouldn’t have asked. Twenty would have done just fine down there…
But we were already testing each other out. It was the game and I knew I’d already ended up with the losing hand no matter what now, at least money-wise.
I didn’t wanna be played for a sucker right off the bat… But at the same time I didn’t want to queer the deal with this one, especially after already playing the big shot high roller to get her to come with me for an all nighter in the first place… Either way I was fucked… and even though I was usually the one to be hustling someone, I knew I’d met my match for tonight. And I didn’t mind.
Money was about the last thing on my mind right then. When iit came to the good pussy I was always a sucker…. easy come, easy go anyway, right?
We eyed each other in a flash and I knew that she knew that I knew and I felt that mad electricity in her eyes again. Dark flashing wisdom eyes that had seen alot and would soon enough grow dull and stupid and corrupt after seeing alot more…
It was a hard life and I loved the power of her joy, her youth, her fire. I wanted more than anything to be near it tonight. Urgently…
It had been a shit week for me, ever since they carted my partner Paco off to jail. Who knew if I wasn’t gonna be next…
I handed over the hundred.

Copyright Jonathan Shaw 1974, 2009.

Jonathan Shaw’s extended family at home in Rio de Janeiro- Baro Mio e Princesa Jacci – godfather and princess of Familia Vacite (Brazilian Roma gypsy clan)

photos by Nara Varela.

“Bizarre travel plans are dancing lessons from God.” – Kurt Vonnegut

Veracruz, Mexico. 1974.

I walked across the street and straight up to where she stood. Seeing me approaching, her older colleagues moved off with a hen-like mixture of respect and resentment. Professional cool with an edge of the Evil Eye…

“La onda es veinte pesos, Guero, que tal?” She said with that same mischevious smirk.

A challenge…

Whatever. At least she called me Guero, an affectionate term… and she was talking now. That was a good start.

I stood there transfixed, grinning like a fucking love-struck farmboy… then she broke the silence again.

“The hotel’s just up there,” she said cocking her tough little nose down the alley, all business again.

I could see the place there up the way. A decrepit short-time hole…

“Twenty pesos for a short time,” she repeated. “Vamos?”

I stood a minute, still trying to look casual. Then, without warning from my lust-stricken insides, I heard myself say, “Pues esta bien… but listen, I got an idea…”

She gave me an amused look of feigned suspicion. “What now” she seemed to say, hands on her non-existent hips, suddenly reminding me of old Tia Clara from the port.

“No, listen, serio, nena” I said. “Don’t worry about the twenty pesos, I got money enough. I can give ya more. I just wanna buy you a drink first, somewhere nice, Los Portales, que tal? Maybe we get something to eat there too? Then if you wanna we can go to my place after, maybe for the whole night… But only if ya like an all night thing with me. It’s up to you, nena. Que tal? Waddya say?”

I could see her black eyes flash like a slot machine as she considered my proposal with undisguised interest now…

My stomach grumbled like a junkie about to score…. Why didn’t I just take her upstairs right now and fuck the shit out of her and be done with it?

I didn’t know, but something compelled me to try and go a little further with this one….

Boy was that a mistake..

Or was it? Was it a mistake? Maybe, maybe not, but what else could I do?  i was compelled by something in her eyes, her body language, her aura, her… whatever. Looking back, I guess her demons and mine were shaking hands at that very moment, sizing each other up and bowing to each other like combatants going into the ring together in some ungodly other dimension, some place of madness and anarchy where dark spirits meet and converge and conspire to wreak havoc on our lives… Brewing trouble like the tropical air masses flashing above the dark gulf evoking hurricanes out there in the dark of night, over the fathomless tropical waters beyond the sleeping port.

Copyright Jonathan Shaw 1974, 2009.

Thanks Bernadette and Sherrie for the support!!!

Copyright Jonathan Shaw 2009.