Chapter 11 #3
Mayté didn’t have many earthly possessions. Just some old paintings and art supplies, along with borrowed jewelry from Lo, and Abuelita’s favorite rebozo. Her gaze darted to Carlos. He didn’t have much of anything either. At least in this round, neither of them had much to lose.
Alejandro held up a card. “La Garza,” he called out, voice loud and clear. The card showed a white heron standing in the water, plucking out a fish.
The card glowed, and Mayté didn’t dare breathe. What would happen? Would someone die?
Something flew out of the card and landed on the table with a thunk. Lo shrieked. A fish. Don Zelaya and Xiomara burst out laughing. A huge white blur of a heron darted out of the card and scooped up the fish. It flew around the gaming room higher and higher until it disappeared.
“Don’t forget to place your beans on your board if you have La Garza,” Misterioso said.
Mayté looked down: sure enough, her board had La Garza on the bottom row, third column. She plucked up a bean and dropped it onto her board as a few others did the same. As soon as the bean landed, it melted into the La Garza space, causing it to glow.
“El Nopal.” Alejandro held up another card.
Bright green cacti sprouted around the gambling den. Most from the carpet and some from the walls. Some were tiny, while others kept growing more and more, some with heads with pink flowers.
Mayté’s heart skipped. El Nopal was on her board next to La Garza.
She snatched a bean and placed it down. The plan was working.
She had fixed her mind and followed her heart, and the house had given her a lucky board.
She needed just two more matches to get a horizontal lotería, and then the round would end.
Next to her, Lo placed a bean, while Dominic frowned at his board, unlucky and beanless.
This was more like the Lotería she knew and loved, save for the spectacle whenever a new card was called out. But memories of last night wouldn’t allow her to fully relax. This game was deadly.
“El Borracho.” Alejandro held up a card with a man holding a bottle of liquor. The card glowed, and out stumbled the drunkard, still holding his bottle. Several people at the table gasped. El Borracho swayed as he eyed the contestants.
Mayté’s heart stopped. With his messy dark brown hair and the sloppy stubble dotting his chin and upper lip, he looked almost exactly like her father, albeit much younger.
Without graying hair and deep wrinkles, but still it was uncanny.
She couldn’t help but glance at Carlos. He sat stiffly, mouth hanging open.
El Borracho lifted his bottle, sloshing around the alcohol inside, before pointing it at Carlos.
“Ah, I must inform you that this is a special card,” Misterioso said. “Cards like this one will challenge a player for a wager. Carlos, my boy, you will wager the jar you’ve hidden under your bed.”
What? Mayté sat up straighter.
The jar? How on earth did he know about that?
Misterioso snapped his fingers, and Carlos’s jar appeared on the table with a clang as coins smacked against the glass. It was a quarter full of bronze coins. Barely enough to buy much of anything.
“Once upon a time, this jar had been much fuller, if it weren’t for certain thieving hands,” Mysterioso declared.
It was true. Carlos had been saving coins ever since he was ten.
The jar had been almost overflowing at one point.
Before their father found it. Carlos kept hiding it in different spots over the years, but their father had kept finding it.
As if he hadn’t already stolen enough. Mayté’s teeth chattered.
“Perhaps you can win back those stolen coins. Or perhaps not. Are you ready?” Misterioso asked.
“Er …” Carlos stared at the drunk man as if he had seen a ghost.
“We must begin. Are you ready?” Misterioso repeated.
“Uh.” Carlos’s face reddened. “Yes.”
“?Toma!” El Borracho slurred and tossed his bottle at Carlos demanding he drink. Dios. He even sounded like their father. Or was Mayté just imagining it? Her heart pounded violently; she couldn’t think straight.
Carlos managed to catch the bottle. His eyes were wide with terror as he held the rim to his lips and began to chug.
“?Toma! ?Toma!” El Borracho demanded. The vaquero joined in along with Don Zelaya and Xiomara.
“?Toma!”
“?Toma!”
“?Toma!”
Carlos’s eyes watered and his face twisted, but he kept drinking.
Mayté winced. From here, she could smell the alcohol. It stung her nose as it infiltrated her sinuses. It must have been strong, but Carlos was drinking for his life. If he stopped, who knew what would happen.
Please. Don’t stop drinking.
Carlos’s body twitched, and his chest heaved.
“Come on, Carlos. You can do it!” Lo cheered.
He squeezed his eyes shut and kept drinking until there was no liquid left. With a loud gasp, he dropped the bottle. It shattered into thousands of pieces. Several people at the table cheered.
“No vomites,” El Borracho growled before vanishing.
Golden coins dropped into the jar until it overflowed.
“Congratulations.” Misterioso applauded. “If you can make it through the entire round without vomiting, you’ll keep your reward. Now, put your bean over the El Borracho space, if you please.”
Carlos nodded blankly and fell back in his seat, nearly toppling over.
He grabbed a handful of beans and fumbled around, barely able to put one in the right spot.
How could he have gotten so intoxicated in such a short amount of time?
The booze must have been infused with magic: it was the only explanation.
With shaky fingers, Mayté put a bean down. Only one more until she got lotería. She chewed her lip and glanced at Carlos. What would happen if he vomited? Would he die too?
Alejandro called out the next card. “El Cantarito.” The card showed an ornate clay pitcher painted orange with white patterns.
“Damn it,” Mayté whispered. That space wasn’t on her board. She tried not to watch the others put down their beans.
A flurry of waitresses rushed to the table.
Each wore off-the-shoulder gowns that hugged their torsos and hips like gloves.
The gowns and their matching floppy feathered hats were all in different jewel tones.
Ruby red, sapphire blue, amethyst purple …
Stark white calavera masks obscured their faces.
All at once, they set clay cups in front of every contestant.
The liquid began to bubble inside the cups. Next ice cubes appeared, followed by a slice of grapefruit. The rims glittered as salt formed.
No one made a move to take a drink.
“Oh, come, now.” Misterioso chuckled. “It’s quite delicious, if I do say so myself.”
Carlos gagged and slapped a hand over his mouth. His chest heaved.
No, no, no. Mayté grabbed Lo’s hand.
Lo squeezed back. “Hum, Carlos!” she called out and hummed an aimless tune.
Carlos furrowed his eyebrows, but he hummed too.
At first it sounded strained and off-key, but he soon matched Lo’s tune.
The panic in his eyes softened. Could something so simple chase away nausea?
He flashed a grateful look at Lo. Mayté quickly looked away, blinking back tears.
She took a shaky sip of El Cantarito. It was shockingly sweet, but it burned on the way down.
Everyone else drank too, some sipping, while others chugged it down.
That seemed to satisfy Misterioso, who nodded at Alejandro.
“El Soldado.” The card showed a man clad in San Solera’s orange-and-yellow military uniform. He stood stiff as a board, rifle at his side. But suddenly he marched out of the card and pointed his rifle straight at Carmen, who flinched and whimpered.
Lo gasped.
“El Soldado has chosen you, Carmen. He commands that you wager the land your abuelo plans to leave you after his passing.” A slip of paper appeared and slowly descended to the middle of the table.
“It’s …” Dominic craned his neck to get a good look. “It’s a deed.”
Carmen wrung her trembling hands.
“Answer three of my questions correctly,” El Soldado barked. “One: How many floors are in the salon?”
“Th-thirteen.”
“Correct,” El Soldado said. “Second question: What is the name of the croupier dealing to you?”
Carmen’s eyes widened, and the others looked to each other, unsure.
Mayté normally wasn’t the best with names.
She found it easier to remember people by their faces.
Unusual eyes or an intriguing birthmark caught her attention better than just a name.
And yet, she remembered Alejandro’s name. It was ingrained in her mind.
Lo knew his name too. She stiffened and stared at Carmen, frantic.
“Uh …” Carmen looked around. Beads of sweat formed at her brow. “G-Gerardo?”
Mayté winced. Alejandro raised an eyebrow, as if offended by the name.
“Wrong,” El Soldado said.
“I’m afraid you’ve lost this wager,” Misterioso nodded at the table. The deed combusted into flames, quickly crumbling into ash.
“No.” Carmen covered her mouth.
“You’ll have to keep wagering until you pass the card’s challenge. Next will be your abuela’s wedding ring.”
Carmen held out her hand. A golden band sat snug on her ring finger.
Her lips quivered. The land was likely worth more coins than the ring, but it was clear that the ring meant more to her.
Mayté completely understood. She would never forgive her father for selling off her grandmother’s ring and squandering away the money.
“The croupier’s name. What is it?” El Soldado demanded.
Carmen let out a shaky sigh.
She wasn’t going to be able to guess it, and then what?
“Antonio?”
“Still incorrect,” Misterioso said.
The ring vanished. Carmen jolted. Her light brown cheeks were flushed and her eyes filled with tears.
“Keep in mind, we cannot move on until you pass this challenge,” Misterioso said as he tapped his foot and checked his hourglass.
“I don’t have anything left to wager.” Carmen’s voice shook.