Salt and Pepper

Zihuatenejo was one of those places that seemed to widen as you wandered its streets. There was a very large and very busy central part of town with traffic from all parts junctioning. There you would find movie theatres, street vendors, a lot of sweet-smelling portable taco grill stands, shops, a brown leafed plaza park, dust noise and even a few beggars. Thankfully, the day was finally ending, though its warmth kept time moving slowly. Shops had opened after siesta and musics ranged from ballads to charro to rap to clashing cymbals of Mexican rock. The dust raised by traffic kept their notes lingering before dropping.

The Guerrero bar looked just as it did when I passed it earlier in the day. The normal sized green door was shut. There was no sign showing hours on the raised grey stucco wall. There was dust stuck to the stucco dabs that seemed very old and embedded. I didn’t know what to do so I went to the door and heard music as I stood there with my hand on the shiny silver-plated door handle. I turned it and heard the soft click of unlocking. I pulled, recognising Green Dolphin Street and Cal Tjader’s vibes, it open to face multi-coloured fly beads draping an interior of darkness and almost cold air. I went in and through the beads, liking their tiny wooden clunking and cool caresses over my upper body. The music was getting my head nodding.

‘You come on a boat, a yate?’ the bartender asked.

‘Yeah.’ I answered a little surprised. ‘The big schooner at the end of the beach. We’re taking it to the San Sebastians in the Caribbean.’

‘Through the Panama Canal?’

‘Yeah. Definitely. No Cape Horn for me…’ I nodded slightly, unsure of why I had said that to a stranger.

He smiled. ’I always wanted to do that… go through that Canal. Hey, you know Pepe Maya,’

‘Yeah.’ I answered, referring to the little open bar on the beach and the owner who sat with me when I landed the dinghy. ‘I like Pepe. Interesting guy.’

‘Hey, he told me this morning about chu. We lookin’ out at that goleta, schooner.’

‘Really. I’m famous.’ I glanced around the bar.

‘Maybe famoso. No, I eat breakfast with my compadre almost every day. He is partner in Guerrero here.’

‘Really?’ My lips widened and I shook my head at another surprise from my simple-seeming friend.

‘Yeah. We been open about four years now. The outside was his idea. I like it, and the inside was the other partners. They two of them. No, they, there are two of them. He want, wanted to call this Guerrero Negro after our second presidente but they no not, don’t want that.’

He seemed to take a gulp of air, then looked back at me, ’Lo siento, this English giving me a headache.’

‘Have a rum and tonic.’ I offered the bartender.

‘Good idea.’ He started to turn when the door opened, the beads parted and several people entered talking rapidly in Spanish. The workday was starting at the Guerrero.

The door started opening a lot for the next couple of hours and the evening came closer with each opening until it was night outside and four rum and tonics inside. Tony, the bartender, kept bringing me the things every time my glass, that seemed to grow taller with each serving, reduced itself to one-third. He missed once and I hit ice and lemon wedge, but that was as far as I reached before another appeared.

I was talking to a professor from the college about the Aztecs of all things when I noticed the elliptical eyes of a very beautiful woman lazily staring at me. I smiled and she looked away. She was sitting at the other side of the U-shaped bar and was alone. With the small crowd, music, dancing and conversations I thought her being alone was very strange. I studied her and felt she was genuine, but maybe a prostitute.

I asked the professor and he said she was no prostitute, but a wealthy mulatta ‘…from your country.’ He winked and confided, ‘She is waiting for her man.’ Was the way he carefully chose his words. And, he chuckled. ‘Before I would have thought that you could tell me what she was doing…’ he chuckled again.

It was getting late my drink told me.

‘Tony?’ I called.

‘Hey, Rod, what’s up?’ he eyed my glass.

‘No. Can you give the mulatta Americana whatever she is drinkin’?’

‘Libby?’ He eyed me curiously, then shook his head, looked over at her and back to me. ‘It is curious but I know you now. She is taken, man. There will be a couple of students in about a half-hour, man. They are hot, too. Libby ain’t gonna even talk to you, man.’

‘That’s cool but can you?’

‘I bet chu the drink she turn it down.’

‘Got a bet, my man.’ Now, I was saying man, I thought, wondering if I had drank too much and dismissing it as how can I drink too much?

‘Cool.’ he nodded with a smug smile.

Tony mixed her drink and took it across. She eyed it, him and as he spoke, she eyed me. She nodded her head and demurely waved me over. Tony’s eyes were big as he came back, passing me with, ‘That never happen before, Rod.’

I slid off the stool, feeling a bit unbalanced after sitting for three hours drinking. But, I felt I could still score.

‘Thanks’ she said, as I tried with awkwardness to mount the stool that kept moving. 

Finally climbing aboard and seated, I responded, ‘Say. Tony told me you were American, so I decided that since you were African-American, and you were in a foreign land and I am an African-American and I am in a foreign land, and you were too beautiful to be alone and…’ I lost the train of thought, ‘uh, I would offer that small token of my comradeship and adoration.’ It sounded like shit as the last part came out.

‘Shit.’ She began laughing. ‘Was that a sentence? I usually get hit on more smoothly but that, well that, was schmaltzily patriotic enough to warrant at least an introduction. Libby.’

Libby’s hand came from the tall glass of under-lit chunks of ice in liquid and stretched over to me. Her fingers were long with no rings, short manicured nails painted red. The skin was youthful and tanned. I hadn’t thought of her age, but as I took the hand in a shake I studied her face and saw hidden forties, low or high ones and I saw that those years were well hidden. She took care of herself.

‘I am fifty-one as of three days ago.’ Libby answered my study.

‘I guessed wrong. I thought you were too young for me. I’m Rod.’

‘Now, that was better.’

‘Happy birthday, Lioness.’ My eyebrows were up, I think, like I was sophisticated or something.

‘I can’t say you’re smarter than you look.’

‘Oh-oh. Does that mean I look dumb?’

We both chuckled at that.

Aside from the obvious beauty she exuded, I felt a warmness coming through her hand that stayed even as she drew it back to her glass. Libby’s eyes studied mine.

‘I don’t usually let this happen’, she allowed. ‘Usually, I have a few drinks, my man shows up and I have a couple more while he socialises, and we leave.’

‘Your man?’ I looked around. ‘Is he here?’

‘Naw.’ She looked at the watch on her left wrist. The dangling gold chain links holding it looked expensive. Her tan was only slightly covering the place on her third finger where a wedding ring had once been. ‘He will be here in fifteen minutes, mas o menos.’ She looked back at me. ‘Mas o menos’ she repeated to somebody or herself. ‘Rod, is it?’

‘Yeah, Rod.’

‘Very phallic. Look, do you see that woman over there?’ Her head turned and sly eyes directed me to another beautiful woman at the end of the side of the U that I had sat. 

I was surprised that I hadn’t seen her, but maybe she was one of the students Tony had mentioned or a teacher. She was blond and deeply tanned. I could see the tan because of the opaque under-lighting of the bar. It made her almost black contrasting the white look of the long thick braid laying between a shoulder and her chest with a simple white shoulder-less blouse. There was a patient smile playing at her lips and she was alone.

I started to wonder if this bar was gay. I looked back at Libby, wondering if she was a man.

‘You… I mean, well is this a gay bar?’

She looked at me. ‘You’re not gay, are you?’

‘Naw, I’m not. I danced with a transvestite earlier without knowing it and there are two beautiful women sitting without men on their shoulders…’ I looked around and saw that there were other good-looking women with men talking and some dancing. ‘Sorry, just got a little freaked. I’m from San Francisco, so you’d think it wouldn’t matter… Anyway, naw, I’m not gay, and all my stuff is intact.’

She was smiling, ‘Too much information. How many drinks have you had?’ Then Libby looked back at the blonde. ‘She is a rich one, that one. And spoiled. A man has to be careful, she would eat you up and spit you out.’

‘Whoa there, Libby. Who is she and why do you want me to get into her when I am looking at you?’

‘Because you are looking at me, exactly. I just wanted to help you out. You look like you are on a quest and I thought maybe you could quest her. She is there for the pickin’.’

Quest automatically went to the boat, but another thought pulled into my brain that I must look horny to Miss Un-ringed Libby.

‘Libby, I am attracted to beauty, but I am not ruled by the bulge you’re creating in my trousers. If that is what you mean by quest?’

‘It is.’ She looked at my crotch, ‘You have a bulge?’

‘I can.’

She started laughing, surprising herself. When she stopped laughing, with tears in her eyes, she lifted her glass in a toast to me and flirtatiously sipped with her eyes digging into mine.

‘Okay’ lingered, coming from her wet lips.

I tilted my head to get an understanding. ‘Okay?’

‘No, I mean she is looking for a man. I have one.’

I looked at the blond again. ‘There are plenty of men here.’ My mind went back to the gay bar concept.

‘No. She is looking for somebody just like you.’

‘How do you know that? Woman’s intuition? Do you know her?’

‘Yes. I might say she is a friend. Her name is Sammy and she is a woman before you question the name.’

‘Samantha?’

‘Yes. Are you interested?’

‘I don’t get it.’

‘Let’s start with I am taken. Securely taken…’

‘Okay, got that. Now, what is the next thing? Why?’

‘Why? Why are you asking?’ She inclined her head toward the bar, ‘There is a beautiful woman and I think she would appreciate you, from what I have seen, and you would probably enjoy her… You have self-doubts, or are you gay? Or, is it a racial thing?’

‘Hunh?’

‘Racial thing…, you know, you don’t like white women racial thing?’

‘Well, actually, I don’t tend toward them but I’m not prejudiced, just they tend to be a little too nice or too naughty, if you know what I mean.’

‘Actually, no, I don’t know what you mean but maybe I am pushing her on you too hard. Let’s forget it, and thanks for the drink.’

I noticed she had turned slightly toward the bar and her eyes followed, leaving me sitting next to her by myself.

I looked over at the blonde and sighed. My mind moved my body with thoughts of rumours that I had been offered beauty but I was a racist, or gay, or just fucked up mentally. I thought of this Sam finding out that I was sitting here trying to get into Libby’s pants and couldn’t, then defeated myself before approaching her. She would see me as a loser. Another rum and tonic appeared sitting next to my unfinished one. I looked at Tony and he looked at Libby.

Libby looked at me. ’Now, we’re even in the drinks department.’

‘I’ll go meet your friend.’

Libby turned back to me, smiling. ‘You’ll make her happy… what’s your name again?’

‘Rod.’

‘How could I forget Rod?’

I stood up, feeling off enough to hold onto the stool. To overcome the feeling of a little too much alcohol I reached over and took my unfinished drink and drank it down. I smiled to Libby in what I thought a sophisticated way, though I doubted that it was at the same time and replaced the glass of lonely ice. I left the other drink and walked around the bar and down to the blonde, whose name I had forgotten already.

She was facing two or three couples dancing almost next to her. I tried to remember her name but couldn’t. She started to dance suddenly moving from the bar. Alone, she moved round and round making smiles of conversations. Her movement was peaceful, graceful, forceful with traces of African sensuality merged into the ritmo of a new world. Then she was back standing at her chair. With a smile she turned and faced me. There was a concern in her eyes and a curiosity in the tilt of her head, and there was a knowing friendliness that comforted me.

‘Libby sent you over?’

‘Yeah. Yes, she told me you wanted my company though I don’t know why.’

‘And you did as she said?’

Her face, beyond the smile was naturally sulky in an extremely sensual way. The face was almost symmetrically perfect. The eyes were a light colour in the beating darkness of the room, sparkling under the light of the bar and a small sequinned ball hanging from the ceiling that I hadn’t noticed before. Her lips tempted. There was a smile beneath her smile, an acknowledgement of her strength of beauty.

And softly, she said ’You can go now.’

‘What?’

‘You have done as she said, so go.’ She was still smiling but both smiles and the tone was almost pleasant and I was almost surprised.

‘This a game you two play?’

‘No. Actually, no. Just go.’

‘Okay. Sorry to stand near you. But, seeing how beautiful, at least superficially, a woman can be was worth even this part of whatever this was.’

Her head tilted to the left.

‘Wait’ she softly commanded.

I stopped my about to be leaving movement and smiled.

‘I am waiting for my boyfriend.’

‘That makes sense. Everybody is waiting for their boyfriend today.’

‘He will be here any minute.’ Her eyes ran up and down my face. ‘Maybe you know him?’

I just looked back at her.

She plastered on a thinking smile. ‘My boyfriend used to be her boyfriend, and she thinks when he shows up and sees me talking to you… he is mixed race also… that he will turn back to her.’

‘Come on. That’s ridiculous.’

‘No. He is extremely jealous. He is an artist, so a bit crazy.’ She smiled, ‘He is crazy, actually.’

‘An artist?’

‘Yes. I am too. At least I am studying to become one.’

‘What’s his name?’ I didn’t really want to hear what she would answer.

‘Esteban.’

‘Just Esteban? Are there many artists around Zihuatenejo named Esteban?’ I must have smiled sarcastically.

‘Then you do know him, don’t you?’

‘Hunh? Oh, well, just through reputation. I’m a journalist.’

‘Yes. Yes, he is one of the greatest artists in Mexico. I want to help him get an exhibition of his work in Boston… Where are you from? A journalist? Where are you from?’ She was contentedly smiling now.

‘San Francisco.’

‘San Francisco? Wow. Why are you here?’

‘Uh, I’m assisting the return of a historical schooner to the San Sebastian Islands.’

‘That’s a tax haven, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah, they have that too, but you want me to leave before he gets here, don’t you? I think I had enough to drink for tonight anyway.’

‘No. No, please stay. I think Esteban will really like you. Look at the way I am talking to you already. And Esteban has a lot more to say than I do. I know he’d really like you. Not too many mixed-race people around here. I mean there are Mexicans who are mixed Indian and Spanish but not many Blacks and Whites here..

‘I’m not really Black and White.’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘Not really. Anyway, I don’t really want to be a part of this love game thing.’

‘No. It’s okay. When he finds out you’re a reporter he’ll probably want to show you his work. And, anyway, I’ll probably have to share him with her again tonight, so that part is no big deal.’

I shook my head, said good night, turned without waiting for a response. I went over to Tony to pay my tab. I don’t remember going out the door but I was walking along the sidewalk, breathing in the warm night air with the moon splattering light on the bay. A man came walking toward me and I looked up to see myself. His mouth was open as mine probably was looking at my physical body only with dreadlocks. He smiled at me and I know I was smiling at him.

‘Esteban?’

‘Yeah.’