Unsympathetic Magic - Laura Resnick [104]
“How often do they do this?” Lopez asked me.
I shrugged and shook my head, indicating I didn’t know.
Jeff said, “They’re doing it now to raise luck and ward off black magic.” When Lopez looked at him, he shrugged. “That’s what Puma told me.”
I explained to Lopez who Puma was. Then, as the volume in the room continued rising, I asked, “How was your field trip with your mom?”
“Don’t remind me,” he said. “I’m a cop. I’ve seen a lot of things. I thought I was hardened to depravity. But then yesterday . . . I saw where filthy rich people buy their food, and I felt innocent and shocked.”
“Were the men really naked?” I asked, raising my voice to be heard.
Jeff heard the word naked and, naturally, leaned closer to hear more. Max was absorbed in observing preparations for the ritual.
“Not as naked my mom would have liked, since she obviously looked forward to telling my dad about it. More naked than I would have liked since, oh, I was there with my mother.” He smiled wryly. “For that same reason, I scarcely even looked at the mostly-naked women. A missed opportunity.”
“What is this place?” I asked him. “What’s it called? I might have to check it out.”
“What are we talking about?” Jeff asked, leaning closer.
“Someplace Lopez went yesterday,” I said. “Full of scantily clad store clerks selling expensive food.”
“It’s called the Imperial Food Forum,” Lopez said. “The whole place has a Roman Bacchanalia theme. Food, décor, clothing, music, everything. I think I might have enjoyed if I’d been drunk. And younger. And not accompanying my mom.”
I turned to Jeff. “I think it’s a creative idea for a first date, Jeff. Maybe Puma would like . . .” I stopped speaking as I realized he was staring at Lopez with an expression of dawning horror.
“There was also . . . I don’t know, I guess you could call it performance art,” Lopez said. “A girl with a lute, a guy reciting from the Aeneid, a couple of gladiators fighting. And then there was this . . .” He stopped speaking and his gaze flew to Jeff. “Gladiators fighting! That’s where I’ve seen you. You were working there.”
Jeff started shaking his head. “No . . . No, no, no.”
I looked at Jeff in astonishment. “That’s your gladiator role? Entertaining shoppers at the Imperial Food Forum?”
“You were good with that sword,” Lopez said, apparently oblivious to the humiliation he had just caused. He really didn’t know actors.
Jeff looked at me, as if wondering whether he could brazen it out, and then his shoulders sagged in defeat. He said to Lopez, “Thanks, man. Glad you enjoyed the show.”
“You must have been cold, though,” said Lopez.
“Jeff?” I said.
My ex-boyfriend looked heavenward. “Please, Lord. Take me now.”
“Why did you give up the acting workshops at the foundation to—”
“Can we talk about this later?” said Jeff.
Max said, “I believe the ceremony is commencing!”
The drumbeats suddenly got so loud it wasn’t possible to hold a conversation. My questions would have to wait until there was a chance of Jeff actually hearing them.
The drums ceased, and a man dressed in simple clothing walked to the center of the hounfour and began reciting verses in French. I recognized the language, but didn’t understand it well enough to have any idea what he was saying. After a couple of minutes, Lopez whispered to me, “He’s reciting Catholic prayers.”
I supposed he recognized it from the Spanish, or maybe the Latin.
I heard a rattle shaking and looked around. I saw Mambo Celeste. She had a gourd-shaped rattle in her hand. It reminded me of the one I had seen in Puma’s shop—the one stuffed with snake vertebrae. How fitting, I thought.
The Catholic prayers and the rattling went on for a while. Then the man retreated into the crowd, and the mambo took center stage. To be fair, she made quite an impression. Dressed in a colorful gown and headdress, she had great theatrical style and a level of stage presence and charisma that many professional actors would envy.