The Little Bull and the Calf

...[P]eer power as an extrinsic force is a lot like radiation: a little goes a long way. 

Charles D. Hayes

Some people, perhaps even most, in the situation Sam found herself would wonder how they got there. She had no trouble pinpointing the moment that led her to be sitting in an interrogation room, wrists cuffed to the table, ankles shackled to the floor. It was the simple sentence: “I dare you.”

“I’m Special Agent Angela Mackey. You’re Samira?”

“Sam.”

“Samira Thibideaux, twenty-six, from New Orleans, Louisiana, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Angela leaned forward on her elbows. “You understand you’re in a lot of trouble?”

Sam nodded.

“Why did you run up on the President like that?”

“I didn’t know she was there. I saw Hector and was going to get a surprise selfie with him.”

“Wearing a cape and a ski mask?”

“Luchador mask. El Torito, his favorite. It’s a joke. Call him, he’ll tell you. We prank each other all the time...or we used to, back in high school.”

“We’ll involve Senator Valencia when we feel it’s appropriate,” Angela said. “Tell me about your day. Start from the beginning.”

#

Sam picked at her breakfast; her roommates’ chatter a warm comfort. She had the day off and had no idea how she would spend it.

“Hey Sam, that senator you went to school with is in town today.” Alicia was the unofficial “mother” of the group. “You should see if he can get some time to have coffee or something, reconnect.”

“Ooh, if you can get a selfie with him, that would boost your Insta.” Trish was, to all appearances, a shallow, vain, young woman, with little interest in anything beyond fashion and fun. “But not a plain selfie, you should do something wild.”

“She doesn’t have to do anything wild or ‘boost her Insta.’ If Sam wants to hang out with her friend, she should.”

“What’s Henry in to?”

“His name is Hector, and he was always into Lucha Libre. His favorite wrestler since grade school was ‘El Torito’—a little guy who fought like a bull. He told me in third grade that he sometimes had nightmares that he’d made El Torito mad, and he was coming to get him.” Sam turned to her phone to text Hector and stop herself from divulging yet more personal information.

Alicia began collecting the dishes. “I have to work a double today. Sam, tell Hector I said ‘Hi.’ Trish, try not to burn down the house.”

“Hey! That was one time in college, the dorm didn’t burn down, and it wasn’t my fault. I’m not the one that left a rag on the hotplate.” Trish scrolled through her phone, absorbed in whatever took her fancy at the moment.

“But you are the one that plugged it in without checking,” Alicia said.

“I’ll handle the dishes,” Sam said. “Have a good day at work.” In short order, Sam had the kitchen back to its normal, pristine state.

“Your phone went off while you were in the kitchen.” Trish held something behind her back. “Your friend says he’ll be at the coffee shop on 14th at two this afternoon.”

“What’re you hiding?”

“Oh!” Trish showed her phone to Sam. “This is the guy your friend likes, right?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, El Torito.”

Trish put her phone away. “Good. We’re going shopping before you meet your friend.”

“Why do you keep saying ‘your friend?’ His name is Hector.”

“Because it doesn’t sound like a real name when I say it.”

Sam sighed. “You’re weird. Why do we need to go shopping?”

“I know you think that Insta is a waste of your time, but it’s tied to your other online stuff, right?”

“Yeah, and?”

“How do you think you’ll get those freelance editing jobs if no one even knows you exist?”

“So, you’re trying to help?”

“I am.” Trish could be sincere and convincing when needed. “I’ll get you just enough internet fame to get jobs rolling into your inbox, hopefully without too many Insta creeps.”

“Fine, let’s go shopping. I guess I need to get something classier than my jeans and hoodies, huh?”

“Uh, yeah...classy.”

#

They stood in front of the store. Sam looked at Trish, unable to form the question that played across her face.

“Trust me, okay. This’ll be fun.” Trish gave a little tug to Sam’s hand and led her inside.

“This is a costume store.”

“And they have something waiting for you.” Trish walked in and called out in her best party-girl, carry-over-the-crowd voice, “Who’s got the El Tortilla mask?”

“El Torito.”

“Whatever, they know what I mean.”

Sam spent the next fifteen minutes feeling like the third wheel as Trish and the saleswoman talked about clubs, parties, brands, makeup, celebrities, and random trivia. Finally, the saleswoman brought out a bag containing a red cape and a luchador mask that was a close, if not perfect, replica of the mask worn by El Torito.

As they left the store, Trish having paid for the costume, Sam said, “Nice of her to let you use her employee discount. Why didn’t you introduce me?”

“Who? The chick that works there? I don’t know her.”

“I—I have no words.”

At the coffee shop, Sam looked in the bag, then back at Trish. “This is ridiculous. I’m not doing it.”

“You think he’ll be mad?”

“I mean, he’d probably think it’s pretty funny, but I’m not sure about it.”

Trish leaned close. “You’ve known the guy forever. You even know his favorite lecher-whatsit.”

“Luchador.”

“Whatever. This’ll blow up on Insta. And his team will probably tweet it, get you noticed. Unless you’re scared of him, or afraid he’s forgotten you.”

“I’m not scared of him, and we literally texted less than four hours ago. He hasn’t forgotten me.”

Trish leaned back and took a sip of her latte. She looked Sam in the eyes and said, “I dare you.”

“Ugh, fine.” Sam retreated to the restroom and put on the costume, waiting for the text from Trish that they were there. In a matter of minutes, it came: “They’re here. Streaming. Go time!”

She peeked out from the restroom and saw him, his back to her, with several other men and women in suits. She took a deep breath for courage, then burst into the main room shouting El Torito’s tag line, “¡Cuidado con los cuernos!”

Sam was no more than three steps into the room when she found herself face-down, covered by two large men who had her cuffed before she knew what had happened. The President’s shocked face swam into her vision and her heart dropped through the floor. “Hector! It’s me. I’m so sorry, Madame President!”

#

The interrogation room she found herself in was in a nondescript office building, not the police station. The fact that she hadn’t spoken to anyone other than Secret Service agents so far led her to believe that she was in a deeper hole than she could ever get out of.

“What happens now?” she asked. “Do I go to Guantanamo? Disappear?”

“Sit tight.” Angela left the room without saying anything else.

The minutes dragged on, and Sam feared the worst. She looked up at the camera in the corner of the room. “Please? Call Hector Valencia? Please?”

It was an hour later when a large man in a suit entered, carrying a briefcase. “Ms. Thibideaux? I’m an attorney. Let’s talk about your options.”

“No you’re not,” Sam said. “I saw you at the coffee shop. You’re trying to trick me into saying something incriminating, even though I haven’t done anything.”

He sighed and waved at the camera. The door opened again, and another agent entered, with Trish. She wasn’t in cuffs, but she looked like she was holding in tears.

“Hey, Sam.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“At least you got a funny stream out of it, at my expense.”

She looked down at her phone, dark and silent in her hand, and shook her head.

“I want a real attorney.” Sam would have crossed her arms if she weren’t chained to the table. “You’ll back me up in court, right Trish?”

“Please.” The agent who had claimed to be her attorney raised a hand. “You won’t see a courtroom.”

“Oh god, I’m going to disappear!”

The door opened and Hector walked in, holding the mask and cape. “All right, guys, that’s enough. Let her go. I win this one, Sam.”

The agent freed her wrists and ankles, chuckling quietly. “We figured out you weren’t a threat after the FBI searched your apartment, but Senator Valencia wanted us to wait until he got here to tell you.”

“After they searched…?”

“They finished up about fifteen minutes ago,” the agent said. “The senator has your phone, by the way.”

“When you wanted to meet up, I knew you’d try something silly, but not this silly.” Hector handed her the costume and looked at Trish. “Thanks for not spilling the beans before I got here.”

Trish broke down, laughing so hard tears streamed down, smearing her mascara. “Sorry, sorry. Can’t stop laughing. The stream went viral! And the President just tweeted that it was quote, ‘An ill-timed prank, no harm done,’ end quote.”

Hector gave Sam a hug. “It’s good to see you after so long.”

“You too. Sorry I couldn’t surprise you with El Torito the way I wanted to.”

“Oh, I was surprised, all right. Put that on, and let’s get a couple selfies for your fans.”

“My what?”

“They’re calling you ‘La Ternera’ online.”

“What is that?”

“The calf. You are smaller than even El Torito.” Hector put an arm around her shoulder and snapped a selfie with her phone.

Sam was glad of the luchador mask to cover her blush of anger at herself and knowing that a friend she respected had seen her mess up a simple prank so terribly.

“Let’s get some without…,” Hector reached for her mask and lifted it off. “Are you all right, Sam?” Hector’s voice was soft. “I went too far, didn’t I?”

Sam sniffled, then chuckled. “I guess it’s payback for the fake murder victim in the back of your car, senior year.” She broke off the pose and tried to fix her hair and compose herself.

“I never got the fake blood out of the seats,” he said. “It makes a great story, though.”

“Truce?”

Hector pulled her back in for another couple selfies with her phone. “Truce. I’ll be down for Christmas. We’ll have a big get-together. Craw-fish boil, gumbo, red beans and rice, tamales, gingerbread cookies, and buñuelos.”

“You know your family has the weirdest Christmas menu ever, right?”

“I know, but you love it.”

Trish was typing furiously on her phone. “This is so awesome! I can’t wait for Christmas! Alicia says she’s down too!” She paused and looked at the others. “I mean, um, am I…are we invited?”

“My friends,” Sam said. “They won’t let me be, and I’d never hear the end of it.”

“Hmm.” Hector leaned in close and whispered to Sam, “Only if we can prank her together. She told me this was her idea.”

“You’re right.” Sam stood straight. “Tell Alicia that both of you are invited. Details when it gets closer to Christmas.”

Trish returned to typing on her phone. “This is exciting! I’m having Christmas dinner with a Senator!”

“Gentlemen, could you escort the ladies out?” Hector asked the agents. “I need to get back to my schedule, and I’m sure they have other places to be. Thanks again for waiting for me.”

#

Alicia returned in the evening to find Trish picking up the items scattered about the living room. “What the hell? Where’s Sam?”

“I didn’t do it, FBI did. Sam’s hiding in her room. She’s a little overwhelmed with the whole La Termina thing.”

“La Ternera.”

“Whatever.” Trish pointed at the open bottle of wine on the counter. “Her friend left that for us as an apology.”

Alicia sighed and poured herself a glass of wine. “I’ll go calm her down.”

“Hey, can you, um, tell her I’m really sorry. And not just for the dare, but the laughing too.” Trish sniffled. “It was scary, but I couldn’t stop laughing. I think I might have hurt her feelings.”

Alicia heard a muffled snort from Sam’s room. “I’ll tell her, but I think she’s okay.”