The Pink Zone

He must have had a gas leak because of the amount of fumes coming to the back seat. Unfortunately I could not tell my bubbly companion or it would be an excuse for him to talk more. The driver never looked back at us through the rear view mirror that I could see, which made me think we should begin to worry. There were no lights outside and the road was bumpy and dusty. A slight glint of moonlight lightly brushed the tops of plants identifying only the palms in the bouncing of our progress. 

Nevil was in front with the driver, half turned to us but jerking his head to see the head lights sudden and fleeting discovery of something. The driver did not speak English and he had learned no more than, Cuanto cuesta, senor?, so could not ask where we were or how much further, and he would not look at us. Nevil did not seem worried though. He was English and he had been here before, so I was hoping that his quick turns did not mean he was getting confused about direction.

We turned off the road onto a track and slowed dramatically. Now we were climbing elfin mountains and descending into elfin valleys at a rate that I could walk backwards. I looked up ahead and saw a barren plane with a distant orange glow off to the left. 

Mick, who sat next to me, pointed and yelled out to the driver, ‘Zona Roja? Zona Roja?’ To which the driver replied, ‘Zona Rosa, si.’

Mick turned to me and began, ‘I learnt my spanich in the Philipines when I was in the Navy. Did you know they can speak spanich there? They was run by the Spaniards for a long time… civilised them, but some of them still lives in the jungle like apes and monkeys and such. I remember one time in Subic Bay when my buddy Angel was chopped ta pieces by some of them jungle bunnies, that’s what we called them: jungle bunnies. That was at a Zona Roja, too, but in town. They cut that poor boy up, man, and then started choppin’ him, his arms, legs, dick everythin’.’ 

I was curious to ask why but knew it would lead into a very long-winded, monotonous tale that would bore me to nodding like all the other stories bored me, though told by somebody else most of them would have held your attention. Anyway, the orange glow became more white and turned into dust-faded neon lighting that spelled somebody’s bar but most of the letters were out. It went - - -SE-  - - BARET. I could make out the other letters painted under the unlit bulbs as we rocked to a halt a few yards from the sign and it read, MOISE CABARET.

The driver had gotten out of the cab and was waiting for us to get out. I opened my door and heard Nevil do the same, both with tearing squeaks and grinds. Mick was still talking as he got out on my side, but I hadn’t noticed the words until he said, ‘…and we just couldn’t do a fuckin’ thin’.’

   He looked up and down at the place and smiled, beating his head to the muffled salsa music coming from inside. ‘Here we is… let’s roll.’ and he shouted in a bad imitation of Mexican cowboy movies, ‘Heeeaa…yayayayayai’.

The driver smiled for the first time, ‘He is Mexican? Don’t look Mexican.’

I responded, ‘I think he is just drunk. You speak English!’

‘Yup. I spent some time across La Liñea.’

‘Why didn’t you say something?’

‘Why?’

I ordered Ron Negrita from a blasé bartender who had seen it all. He smiled at me, nodding toward Bill’s offering. He brought the bottle of rum with an empty water glass, a glass full of water and a shaker of picked ice. I smiled back at him and put a chunk of ice in the glass, then filled it with rum. Though there were many ordering drinks, he stayed with me until I had my first pull, questioning with his eyebrows if I liked it or not. I nodded approval and he attended others.

Turning around I spotted three members of my crew sitting at the side of the stage at a table calling up to the dancer-stripper. The stage was a short walkway with some upturned multi-coloured lighting and some ceiling-mounted white spot lights. The dancer was older and well worn but muscular, especially her thighs and shoulders. If she hadn’t been naked I would have worried that she was a man. Pete had his chin on the stage looking up and she stood above him with her legs parted for him to see something. The crew and some of the audience cat called and whistled for Pete to do more. Her legs bent at the knees and his head went in between them. 

A hand rested upon my shoulder. I turned to see Simon’s bearded face smiling crookedly into mine, a little too close. He was a stocky guy with muscles that would someday grow into fat but his grip was strong and he was becoming a sailor.

‘Hey, Captain’ the voice was slurred a little. ‘Didn’t think you did this kind of shit?’

‘Hey, Simon.’ I gave him one of my sober expressioned responses. ‘What kind of shit?’

‘You know, bad women and boozin’ up… that kind of shit.’ He was smiling warmly as drunken people do when they are trying their best to be friendly. It was sincere and I knew he wanted to be mates. ‘I thought maybe you was a Christian kind of guy, sailor, I mean.’

‘Lookin’ at the choices here I might not be up to the bad women part, but I don’t remember bein’ too Christian-kind.’ I looked around for the bartender and caught his eye, he came over. I turned to Simon, ‘Let me buy you a drink. What do you want?’

‘Naw, we gots bottles on the table. I was acomin’ over to invite you to sit with us. But thanks, man.’

‘Tienes alla, lo siento,’ I said to the bartender, who did not change his expression as he moved away.

‘You knows that Spanish, don’t you?’

‘No. Just a few words.’

‘Where’d you get it? In school, somewhere?’

‘In the streets of San Francisco, which is a Spanish name. In the streets and down in Tijuana. I used to hitch-hike through much of Mexico too.’

‘Wow. Hitch-hiking through Mexico? Ain’t that dangerous?’

‘It probably was, like hitch-hiking anywhere, but I never had anything but good times, and I started doing it when I was a kid.’ I started to wonder why I was letting him in on me. ‘What about you? You travel much?’

‘I used to go up in the mountains… my excuse was always huntin’ but I just liked the feeling of being out in open air with those peaks all around and a breeze makin’ you feel alive. When I got married I sort of stopped and just went to work.’ He looked around with a fixed smile that said that was enough. His smile said, like my thoughts about myself, this was not the time nor place to talk about things that meant something.

The music stopped and the woman left the stage with my crew cat-calling and grabbing the air behind her with their fingers. Simon was laughing at them and shaking his head. Coming from the end of the stage through shadow and harsh spotlight a pale blond well-formed girl marched toward the centre. She turned stiffly and wiggled, then turned again and wiggled. Her costume was a red bikini and black spiked heels. 

There was something oddly attractive about her, aside from her obvious youth and unwrinkled face. She seemed actually innocent. Her turns were like something somebody was told to do: go out there and turn, then wiggle. She went to the edges of the stage and the men were staring in place of reaching out or yelling. The Cabaret was quiet. I looked around to confirm that every man in the place was staring at her with her static movements and clumsy turns. She started to get tired in the smoky humidity of the place.

The expression on her face was perfect for a portrait of determined exactness in shadow light. Tiny beads of sweat broke out on her shoulders. I, like the other men, could not take my eyes off of her. She started to take off her top and I saw her in her bathroom undressing for the first time without a mother’s presence. It fell to the dirty stage floor. Her eyes darted around and a slight frown showed she was human. Her breasts were perfect for her body, with large light-coloured areola and strong brown nipples.

The blond had beautiful lips and a nose that tilted up slightly. The hair fell to her shoulders and had been worked on recently. The blond hair gave a formal appearance to not only her but the Cabaret itself. She pulled down her bottoms and they dropped to the floor, tangling with her right shoe. Her bending to untangle the bottom made most of the mouths open around the stage. Her pubic hair was almost invisible in its blondness, acting as a covering, like a fall leaf over a crab hole.

   I looked at the rum and drank it down. I poured myself another glass full and drank it down. There was a small crowd gathered around me that I hadn’t noticed before. They were all captivated by the girl. I turned and shouldered my way through them to the doorway. I stopped and looked back at her to see her arms raised and her breasts bouncing. That was enough. I went outside.

Two guys were giggling down in the shadows at the end of the courtyard near the wall with the covered bullet holes. They had a cloud over them and the perfume of pot found its way to me. One of them saw me approach and nodded for the other to look up. They were both still smiling. 

‘Hey, you all right?’ the one smiler asked in Spanish.

‘Hey. Just smelled your mota and thought I would check if I could get a puff?’

‘Americano?’ the other smiler asked, smiling broader. ‘You American, right?’

‘Yeah. Do you speak English?’

‘Si, cabron. We both speak English. I am tour guide in Parque Nacional del Huatulco and he my brother, Ernesto, a Policia Federal.’

‘Hey, that is a secret’ Ernesto, the stockier one whispered in English to his brother. He looked up at me, smiling, ‘You don’t hear that, right? Come on, get high, no problema, this my weekend off work. I no arrest you this night. No problema.’

I wasn’t sure what to do or if he really was a Federal cop, or if they might want to just cut me up. The rum took effect and I walked over with my slight street stride. We all shook hands in the elbow out power grip. Ernesto looked at my hair while we shook and smiled broader again, lifting his hand into a power fist.

‘Right on, brother. You have no problem here’, he nodded seriously.

   His brother spoke rapid Spanish and something was returned but in an accent that I could not understand. The brother looked up at my hair too.

‘Chu a brudderman.’ He laughed a high pitch thing. ‘You… you a brudderman from the States, no? Black is beautiful.’ He passed me the joint.

I looked at it’s perfect roll, put it in my lips and inhaled. The effect was instantaneous and smoke-brained. I held it in and passed it back, but he nodded in the direction of Ernesto, who took it and inhaled.

‘What you think?’ the brother asked.

I exhaled while answering in that open throated way, ‘Good, man.’ My head started to buzz and the stars above us came into focus, the desert air sweet and these two looked more sinister. 

‘I am sorry, man, I am sorry’ the brother said to me putting his arm around my neck affectionately. ‘I no don’t like niggers, and I so sorry.’

‘Silencio, Chucho. Basta,’ demanded Ernesto of his brother.

‘Niggers no bad men, though. I loves the tones, la musica, ya know. Every time I heard something I thinks of them.’

I moved his arm off my neck and he grabbed my arm with his other hand.

‘It was a mistake, ya see.’

‘Silencio, cabron. Hijo…

‘Dey was there and like you they was white niggers, like white. I thought they was Mexicans, Chicanos. We was the Rancheros and they was the Cribs, and I was ta shoot them down… down.’ Chucho started crying. ‘I don’t care about shooting the … uh, how do you say it, the … right ones but them niggers had families and such, ya knows. It was wrong.’

‘He get crazy sometime and think he es in pelicula, movie. He neber been over la linea. Don’t pay no attention. No problema. He smoke too too mucho, my friend, mi amigo.’

   I started to think I was in the wrong place listening to the wrong things when Ernesto started looking around behind me. Chucho went to him and put his arms around him crying in real grief. I started backing up.

‘Damn, it’s a nice night. See you boys inside, si?’

Ernesto started to say something but apparently forgot his English and was thinking aloud in that Spanish accent I could not understand. I walked back to the cabaret and went in, adjusted my eyes to the spot lights and darkness, saw the boys still laughing and yelling somethings and made my way over to them.

Big Pete was the first to see me, a sneer forming from his smile, then back to the smile.

   Simon smiled broadly at me, ‘Thought you was going to be too good to sit with us. Welcome Rod. Pull up a chair.’He saw there were none and looked around quickly to find an empty chair at the next table. With his head turned he waved to the two men sitting there and signaled by nodding to take the chair. They nodded a yes and went back to staring at the girl on stage.

I started over for the chair but Simon beat me to it and placed it next to his with his smile. The others pried themselves from the girl’s movements to nod and then resumed their staring.

‘What’s with her?’ I leaned over and yelled softly to Simon.

He looked at me, then at her as if for the first time and shook his head. A glass filled with tequila was pushed against my hand that was laid on the table. It was Bill with his straw hair all twisted and ruffled. He wore a black sombrero hanging down his back. Counting them I saw that, aside from the Captain, Li’l Pete was missing. I was not interested in asking why though.

Tony had moved up to rest his chin on the stage. I saw dust and dirt surrounding him but did not want to say anything. I could not see his face and was glad of that, thinking he was probably drooling. I looked up at the girl as Bill asked me why I wasn’t drinking.

I nodded a placating smile and raised the glass in toast to him. We both tilted our drinks and I sipped a bit. I dislike tequila. It makes me want to fight. I looked back at the girl. I could hear her speaking to herself. 

‘Uno dos tres mueve izquierda, mueve derecho, mueve derecha, uno dos tres.’ 

Or maybe it was the tequila in my system atop the pot and rum…? I looked more closely at her and she was just above our heads. There it was sometimes a little loudly and sometimes a whisper. ‘Uno dos tres atras atras izquierda adelante…’ she was timing her footsteps. She was timing her footsteps out loud with a very concerned expression that was not going to allow mistakes. Except when she made mistakes she would purse her lips and stop for a brief moment and start again.

I looked around the stage at the men staring at her with their own expressions of hope, like a hope that she would be able to perform well. They were not letching at her they were silently rooting for her. She was marching to and fro, side to side, and all of these men were individually in her parade with the slightest of nods to the cadence.

My question had long been forgotten by Simon as his rapt attention was given only to the naked girl with the bouncing breasts and the blond pubic hairs stiffly wiggling when she remembered that that was what she was supposed to do after a backward step and bend.

I studied the men around the stage and in the shadows against the walls, then my study took me to those others who occupied this room- the other women, and that was scary. Against the far wall there were maybe fifteen or sixteen women sitting in or standing at booths near a dull lit exit. Their expressions were a study on their own of contempt, visibly embroiled hatred, squinting loathing all directed at the cute blond on the stage.

I looked at the men and I looked at the women and started laughing until Simon turned and looked at me like I was disturbing the show. I ducked my eyes down and he returned to her. Bill got up and fell on my shoulder before straightening himself up. He lurched toward the entrance looking at the girl all the way out.