Read Online Yok by Tim Davys - Free Book Online

Antonio Ortega was not spoiled, but even he
felt uneasy about how things were organized in this building.
    When late that night Ortega was granted entry to
the inner rooms, he was surprised at the difference. There were three living
rooms in a row and a corridor bordered by bedrooms, where I lived among others,
and things were very nice for us. Fifteen of us shared a well-equipped kitchen
and two smaller bathrooms. Even if we were not meticulous, we kept our things in
order. The octopus was careful not to soil the wall-to-wall carpets, made sure
the oil paintings on the walls stayed free of burn marks, and ordered that we
drink our liquor out of glasses. For Callemaro the image of success was
important, and he associated it with a certain degree of manners and
cleanliness.
    Fox Antonio Ortega was led into the end living
room, where Callemaro as usual was enthroned in his black leather armchair. I do
not think the fox had any expectations, but like everyone who met Octopus for
the first time, he must have wondered why the gangster was dressed in a tuxedo,
why he wore all those clumsy—if glittering—ruby rings, and why he had a white
silk scarf around his head. The answer was vanity. Octopus’s most prominent
attribute and most powerful motivating force was vanity. It had taken him all
the way up the radio tower, and it would take him farther than that.
    Around the boss on two leather couches sat, and
stood, his closest stuffed animals: a tiger, an elephant, a toad, and a somewhat
smaller koala. They were competing to see who could look the meanest, and it was
impossible to name a winner. I was standing right behind Octopus’s armchair. I
nodded carefully to Ortega as he was led up to the gang leader, but we had
agreed to pretend not to know each other. Amidst all the animals coming and
going, I was the one who had wormed his way into the Octopus’s inner room; for
the moment I did not want to take more risks.
    Ortega still had his big, ugly, foul-smelling coat
on; the cap was pulled low down on his forehead so that no one could see his
sparklingly beautiful eyes; and a dog who I only knew superficially led him
forward. Fox stopped at a respectful distance, bowed shortly, cleared his throat
and said, “Octopus Callemaro, I am a simple animal, and I come to you with a
simple question.”
    â€œThat’s what they all say,” Octopus rumbled,
whereupon his crew laughed.
    â€œIn order to get the female my heart has chosen,”
the fox continued with no concern for the laughter, “Dragon Aguado Molina has
decided that I must give him one of your arms.”
    It became dead silent in the room. No one moved, no
one dared breathe. Had they heard correctly? Who was this idiot? Mentioning
Molina’s name here? Asking for one of Octopus’s arms? There were furtive glances
at the windows, because everyone was certain that the pitiful figure in the
overly large coat would soon take that route back to the ground. I didn’t dare
breathe.
    Callemaro had turned pale at first, but now his
blackness returned, blacker than before.
    â€œThis female you’re talking about, is it Dragon
Aguado Molina’s daughter?”
    â€œThat’s right,” Fox answered.
    â€œHas he promised you his daughter?”
    â€œIn exchange for one of your arms,” Fox
confirmed.
    Callemaro burst into loud laughter. It reminded Fox
of Molina’s hilarity a few days earlier. And just as the Dragon’s henchman had
chimed in with Dragon’s laugh, Octopus’s crew now joined in with Octopus’s
hoots. The stuffed animals on the black sofas laughed louder and meaner than
those who were standing around the fox on the floor.
    When the laughter subsided, Octopus began to
speak.
    â€œI see, it’s the cursed Aguado Molina who sent
you.” Octopus chuckled. “We’ll see what we can think of to answer him!”
    And again salvos of laughter were heard in the
room.
    Â 
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