Page 33 of Andalusia Dogs
“Chill, brother.” Peach’s tone contradicted her stiff smile. “Joanna tells me you guys bumped your slot so we could have atwo-week run. Right on. I know Si-Man is way grateful. The least we can do to give back is share the energy, you know?”
“You’re his manager?”
“Woah, woah, harsh word. My name’s Peach, and it’s my job to reach opportunities. Inspiration. I’m Si-Man’s arms, mind, and heart. Holding them together those times when the world is just too much. We all need a little help holding on, you know?”
“He does seem a sensitive soul.”
“Oh man, you’ve just seen the surface. Just thesur-face. Come see the show we’ve got planned for your old slot.”
“Will there be quite so much bare arse?” Vicente asked.
“Hey!”
With a wave from Peach, the artist was present. Joanna switched from Peach’s arm to Vicente’s, as Alex reflexively extended a hand. Before Peach had even introduced them, Si-Man had grasped Alex behind both ears and brought their foreheads together until they were gently touching. He smelled like rancid tomato. He then did the same to Joanna. Vicente demurred, which earned him a look of disgust from Peach.
“Thank you, thank you my friends. It means the world to me that you…” Si-Man’s gaze landed on Alex as if seeing him for the first time. “You walked out.”
“I was overcome. The part about us all being connected to the empires our ancestors destroyed. Wow, man. Just wow.”
“Right on.” Si-Man adjusted his diaper. “I mean every word. The stage is a sacred space, you know? We can’t pollute it with lies, or it, in turn, pollutes our souls. Cinema is a perversion built on lies. We must preserve the sacred stage space.”
Right, thought Alex. Less artist, more cult leader, then?
“Peach tells me you’re the show that bailed for us? Truly, man—”
“Oh, it was nothing,” Alex answered, playing along. When the interruption seemed to annoy Si-Man, he shut up.
“Not nothing, my friend, it was a sign. A sure sign to me that you three understand the sacred nature of art, and that the stage can’t be polluted with something unready. Many artists don’t get that, brother. You have my gratitude and my respect.”
“I… that wasn’t quite—”
“We just want to put on something great,” Joanna jumped in.
“That you will. Your energy is…” Si-Man licked his lips as he approached her. “…ancient. Yet you’re so now.”
“They’re so,sonow, Si-Man.”
Alex had forgotten Peach was there. He was too busy watching Vicente’s face to see if it would crack as Si-Man put his hand on Joanna’s. Damn. Maybe Vicente should have been an actor.
“You’ve been stealing?” Si-Man took a gold-painted ping-pong ball from Joanna’s hand.
“You gifted it to me.” She turned to Alex. “This was after you left.”
“I got that,” he answered.
“The gift is my show. In it, I give everything I have.” Si-Man smiled at Alex. “Think you can do that? What is your little show about, anyhow?”
If Vicente wanted to hit the man now, Alex would have let him. Several of Si-Man’s faithful came to his rescue just in time, pulling the artist away without so much as a goodbye from him or Peach. Joanna pocketed the ball once more. With no more than a look between them, they knew it was time to leave.
Vicente grabbed a bottle of red wine from an unattended table they passed. “He just accused us of stealing? Okay, then.”
The dry, warm air of the summer night wrapped around them, and to the left, a glowing cigarette revealed the face of Jago, who grinned as they joined him. He offered up a cigarette, which Vicente declined, though Alex could tell he was itching for one.
“What did you think?” Jago asked.
It should have surprised him that Jago was here, but it didn’t. Just as it hadn’t surprised him when he’d turned up at the café.
“It was… interesting,” Joanna conceded.
