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Gómez beamed. “Measuring people’s skeletons.”
“Skeletons!”
“Hold on.” Gómez squinted at Martínez. “Caramba! Where you been all my life! Let’s try you!”
Martínez saw his arm seized and taped, his leg measured, his chest encircled.
“Hold still!” cried Gómez. “Arm—perfect. Leg—chest—perfecto! Now quick, the height! There! Yes! Five foot five! You’re in! Shake!” Pumping Martínez’s hand, he stopped suddenly. “Wait. You got … ten bucks?”
“I have!” Vamenos waved some grimy bills. “Gómez, measure me!”
“All I got left in the world is nine dollars and ninety-two cents.” Martínez searched his pockets. “That’s enough for a new suit? Why?”
“Why? Because you got the right skeleton, that’s why!”
“Señor Gómez, I don’t hardly know you—”
“Know me? You’re going to live with me! Come on!”
Gómez vanished into the poolroom. Martínez, escorted by the polite Villanazul, pushed by an eager Vamenos, found himself inside.
“Domínguez!” said Gómez.
Domínguez, at a wall telephone, winked at them. A woman’s voice squeaked on the receiver.
“Manulo!” said Gómez.
Manulo, a wine bottle tilted bubbling to his mouth, turned. Gómez pointed at Martínez.
“At last we found our fifth volunteer!”
Domínguez said, “I got a date, don’t bother me—” and stopped. The receiver slipped from his fingers. His little black telephone book full of fine names and numbers went quickly back into his pocket. “Gómez, you—?”
“Yes, yes! Your money, now! Ándale!”
The woman’s voice sizzled on the dangling phone.
Domínguez glanced at it uneasily.
Manulo considered the empty wine bottle in his hand and the liquor-store sign across the street.
Then very reluctantly both men laid ten dollars each on the green velvet pool table.
Villanazul, amazed, did likewise, as did Gómez, nudging Martínez. Martínez counted out his wrinkled bills and change. Gómez flourished the money like a royal flush.
“Fifty bucks! The suit costs sixty! All we need is ten bucks!”
“Wait,” said Martínez. “Gómez, are we talking about one suit? Uno?”
“Uno!” Gómez raised a finger. “One wonderful white ice-cream summer suit! White, white as the August moon!”
“But who will own this one suit?”
“Me!” said Manulo.
“Me!” said Domínguez.
“Me!” said Villanazul.
