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“Stand up and blow kisses.”
She leaped to her feet and blew the required kisses, but, flustered, she quickly took her seat. “He didn’t warn me he’d do that.”
Rafael patted her knee to reassure her. “You did fine.”
“Well, I didn’t want to insult the whole nation.” She turned to look up at Ana and looked right into her camera. She whipped around but not soon enough to avoid being photographed. She wondered if Ana had taken her camera into Santos’s bed. The couple seated beside her regarded her with a quizzical glance, and she smiled. She’d worn her hair up and a nice blouse and skirt, so she hoped they mistook her for someone they ought to know.
Now that the matadors had entered, the arena filled with an electric excitement. She’d wanted to come so she could tell everyone at home she’d been, but this was no colorful outdoor fair. The noise of the crowd increased, surrounding her with a staccato soundtrack, but suddenly the whole scene struck her as ghoulish. The heavy scent of cologne and sweat in the air nearly strangled her. “How long does this last?”
Rafael leaned close to be heard. “Each matador fights two bulls, and each fight is fifteen minutes long. Trumpets announce each tercio, or third. In the first tercio, the matador will play the bull with his cape. The picadores and banderilleros work the bull in the second tercio, and the matador returns for the kill in the final third.”
“They do all that in fifteen minutes?”
“Yes, but it seems like hours when you’re in the ring.”
“I’ll bet.” She leaned against him as the first matador challenged his bull, a huge black beast that charged into the ring with a snorting fury.
She spent most of the contest with her eyes shut, while the spectators all around her yelled, “Ole!”
Rafael gave her a comforting hug. “Tell me when you’re ready to leave.”
She felt sick and couldn’t watch the bull die, but she couldn’t leave now.
“I want to see Santos, at least the first part of the fight.”
“Whatever you wish.”
“Are you always this agreeable?”
“Always. What did your sister tell you?”
“She loves you too much to complain.” She hugged his arm through the second matador’s fight and didn’t open her eyes until she heard the crowd screaming for Santos. She risked opening one eye and was swiftly caught up in his fans’ excitement. She sat up to watch him lead the charging bull through a wild dance of intricate circular patterns. The bull followed each of Santos’s graceful moves, but the beast caught only the fluttering edge of his cape.
The sun was beginning to set behind her, and shadows crept across the dusty ring. “He’s the best of the afternoon, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he’s—” Rafael gasped as the bright reflection from a mirror flashed across the ring. Blinded, Santos jumped back, but not quickly enough, and the bull’s powerful shoulder caught his hip and sent him flying. The other two matadors and the banderilleros rushed into the ring to draw the bull away, but as Santos rolled to rise to his feet, his right knee buckled beneath him.
Terrified for him, Libby leaped from her seat. She didn’t want to see the bull outrun the men chasing him and circle back toward Santos, but she couldn’t look away. Two banderilleros broke away from the others to help Santos up and half carried him out of the ring. The whole horrible incident had taken no more than a few seconds, but, badly shaken, she trembled from head to foot.
Rafael grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him. “Come on, he’s done.” He led her down the arena steps and stopped at the bottom, where a security guard was speaking into his walkie-talkie. “Someone flashed a mirror.” The guard nodded and gestured to the far side of the arena, where two guards were looking up into the stands.
“Good, someone else saw it.” He pulled her into the corridor leading to the infirmary. They ran into the stark emergency facility just as the banderilleros placed Santos on the examining table. Rafael kept out of the doctor’s way, and Libby stayed behind him. She had to rest her hands on her knees to breathe deeply, but she couldn’t recall ever being so badly frightened. Santos was cursing loudly, or at least it sounded like cursing even if she didn’t speak his language.
“Someone had a mirror. Did you see it?” he asked
The banderilleros shook their heads and backed away.
“I did,” Rafael assured him. “They were seated directly opposite us on the sunny side of the ring. I couldn’t see who held it, but it was deliberately aimed at you, not an accident.”
“If they wanted to see me gored, they missed their chance. Don’t you dare cut off my pants,” Santos ordered sharply.
The doctor raised his hands. “Your knee has already begun to swell.”
“I don’t care. They’re too damn expensive to rip up.”
Rafael moved to the doctor’s side. He spoke in a soft, encouraging tone. “I’ll help you. We’ve all seen naked men. It won’t matter if you’re wearing nothing underneath.”
“I always do,” Santos said and continued to curse.
