Read Online Zoot-Suit Murders by Thomas Sanchez - Free Book Online
Authors: Thomas Sanchez
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counted?”
“Because they be arrested,
amigo.
Sinarquistas are no born stupid.”
“Then let them come out into the open and take their lumps like men.”
“And them.” Wino Boy pointed to the new billboard blocking the sun in a giant square on the roof of the poolhall: DIALGOD. “Sinarquistas saying those too be
Comunistas.
”
“That makes about as much sense as
my
being Red.” Younger turned his back on the sign as if it didn’t exist.
“Life is never what she’s seeming.”
“Come on, Wino Boy, stop giving me all this claptrap. You’ve got a grandson in this war, we’re on the same team. Whatever you tell me helps the American cause.” Younger nervously peeled the wrapper from another stick of gum.
“If I no have to mooch all day and have
moola
to going to the Santa Anita Racetrack and I be betting on the horses …”
“Who would you bet on?” Younger interrupted Wino Boy impatiently.
“Sea Biscuit.”
“Sea Biscuit?” Younger repeated the words under his breath as if they were a question, quickly looking up and down to guard their secret meaning from anyone who might have overheard him. He knelt on one knee, whispering to Wino Boy intimately, “This Sea Biscuit is a real horse?”
“How much you be betting me?” Wino Boy’s breath weighed heavily in Younger’s face.
“On what? I don’t understand.”
“This Sea Biscuit, is being a
real
horse.”
“Okay.” Younger dug five dollars out of his pocket. “Here’s a nickel note, that’s all I’ll bet till you tell me more.”
“Ask
la
Virgin.” Wino Boy’s cracked lips clamped tight. “Now help me up.” He grabbed hold of Younger’s shoulder for support.
“No.” Younger pushed the old man back against the wall. “I just gave you five bucks and all you can say is ask the Virgin. I already told you, I can’t get to see the Virgin.”
Wino Boy’s shaky hand stretched out and tugged at the bottom of Younger’s coat. He pulled himself up on wobbly legs, wincing as blood cut from his feet while sitting against the building stung back to life. He didn’t look at Younger. He squinted at the black-and-white DIALGOD billboard blocking the sun up at the corner on the roof of the poolhall. He licked his cracked lips. His voice had no humor in it as he gazed at the sign. “Go to
la
Zona Roja, saying to those people you wanting
la
Virgin Mary so you can be making the bet on Sea Biscuit.”
11
TIJUANA TUXEDO JUNCTION
TIJUANA TUXEDO JUNCTION!
KU-KU RACHA DANCEHALL
KU-KU RACHA DANCEHALL!!!
Waves of Shore Patrolmen and Military Police commanded the Zona Roja. The bright streets were jammed with shoving people. Drunken sailors stood with their arms locked around lamp posts as if clinging desperately to a ship’s steel mast in a typhoon. Dark-eyed Mexican women with glaring red lips and wearing tight-waisted skirts blocked the noisy entrance to TIJUANA TUXEDO JUNCTION , calling and whistling to young sailors surrounding them on both sides of the street. Cigarettes dangling fromthe women’s mouths bobbed and glowed like fireflies mating in a swamp, luring even the most hesitant and embarrassed of the sailors.
“Hey, buster, want to cut a rug?”
“Don’t be a square, John, take a chance, buy a dollar dance!”
Younger tried to push through the women. One in a red wig eyed him; for an incredible moment, in the pulsing cascade of neon light from overhead, he thought the woman was Kathleen La Rue. The red-wigged woman rammed her hip into Younger’s leg and jammed the six-inch spike of her high-heeled shoe down on his foot. Her breath smelled like a Baby Ruth candy bar. “How ‘bout you, honey? Buck a dance, take a wild chance!” Younger pulled his foot out from beneath the stab of the spiked heel. “Come on inside, civvie.” The woman swung her purse recklessly by its long straps, arching her back so her large breasts almost pushed into Younger’s face, her bright brown eyes flashing the information that Younger would
“Because they be arrested,
amigo.
Sinarquistas are no born stupid.”
“Then let them come out into the open and take their lumps like men.”
“And them.” Wino Boy pointed to the new billboard blocking the sun in a giant square on the roof of the poolhall: DIALGOD. “Sinarquistas saying those too be
Comunistas.
”
“That makes about as much sense as
my
being Red.” Younger turned his back on the sign as if it didn’t exist.
“Life is never what she’s seeming.”
“Come on, Wino Boy, stop giving me all this claptrap. You’ve got a grandson in this war, we’re on the same team. Whatever you tell me helps the American cause.” Younger nervously peeled the wrapper from another stick of gum.
“If I no have to mooch all day and have
moola
to going to the Santa Anita Racetrack and I be betting on the horses …”
“Who would you bet on?” Younger interrupted Wino Boy impatiently.
“Sea Biscuit.”
“Sea Biscuit?” Younger repeated the words under his breath as if they were a question, quickly looking up and down to guard their secret meaning from anyone who might have overheard him. He knelt on one knee, whispering to Wino Boy intimately, “This Sea Biscuit is a real horse?”
“How much you be betting me?” Wino Boy’s breath weighed heavily in Younger’s face.
“On what? I don’t understand.”
“This Sea Biscuit, is being a
real
horse.”
“Okay.” Younger dug five dollars out of his pocket. “Here’s a nickel note, that’s all I’ll bet till you tell me more.”
“Ask
la
Virgin.” Wino Boy’s cracked lips clamped tight. “Now help me up.” He grabbed hold of Younger’s shoulder for support.
“No.” Younger pushed the old man back against the wall. “I just gave you five bucks and all you can say is ask the Virgin. I already told you, I can’t get to see the Virgin.”
Wino Boy’s shaky hand stretched out and tugged at the bottom of Younger’s coat. He pulled himself up on wobbly legs, wincing as blood cut from his feet while sitting against the building stung back to life. He didn’t look at Younger. He squinted at the black-and-white DIALGOD billboard blocking the sun up at the corner on the roof of the poolhall. He licked his cracked lips. His voice had no humor in it as he gazed at the sign. “Go to
la
Zona Roja, saying to those people you wanting
la
Virgin Mary so you can be making the bet on Sea Biscuit.”
11
TIJUANA TUXEDO JUNCTION
TIJUANA TUXEDO JUNCTION!
KU-KU RACHA DANCEHALL
KU-KU RACHA DANCEHALL!!!
Waves of Shore Patrolmen and Military Police commanded the Zona Roja. The bright streets were jammed with shoving people. Drunken sailors stood with their arms locked around lamp posts as if clinging desperately to a ship’s steel mast in a typhoon. Dark-eyed Mexican women with glaring red lips and wearing tight-waisted skirts blocked the noisy entrance to TIJUANA TUXEDO JUNCTION , calling and whistling to young sailors surrounding them on both sides of the street. Cigarettes dangling fromthe women’s mouths bobbed and glowed like fireflies mating in a swamp, luring even the most hesitant and embarrassed of the sailors.
“Hey, buster, want to cut a rug?”
“Don’t be a square, John, take a chance, buy a dollar dance!”
Younger tried to push through the women. One in a red wig eyed him; for an incredible moment, in the pulsing cascade of neon light from overhead, he thought the woman was Kathleen La Rue. The red-wigged woman rammed her hip into Younger’s leg and jammed the six-inch spike of her high-heeled shoe down on his foot. Her breath smelled like a Baby Ruth candy bar. “How ‘bout you, honey? Buck a dance, take a wild chance!” Younger pulled his foot out from beneath the stab of the spiked heel. “Come on inside, civvie.” The woman swung her purse recklessly by its long straps, arching her back so her large breasts almost pushed into Younger’s face, her bright brown eyes flashing the information that Younger would
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