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Gómez, at the open window, suddenly leaned out and yelled. “Vamenos! No!”
Below on the street, Vamenos, shocked, blew out a match and threw away an old cigar butt he had found somewhere. He made a strange gesture to all the men in the window above, then waved airily and sauntered on.
Somehow, the five men could not move away from the window. They were crushed together there.
“I bet he eats a hamburger in that suit,” mused Villanazul. “I’m thinking of the mustard.”
“Don’t!” cried Gómez. “No, no!”
Manulo was suddenly at the door.
“I need a drink, bad.”
“Manulo, there’s wine here, that bottle on the floor—”
Manulo went out and shut the door.
A moment later Villanazul stretched with great exaggeration and strolled about the room.
“I think I’ll walk down to the plaza, friends.”
He was not gone a minute when Domínguez, waving his black book at the others, winked and turned the doorknob.
“Domínguez,” said Gómez.
“Yes?”
“If you see Vamenos, by accident,” said Gómez, “warn him away from Mickey Murrillo’s Red Rooster Café. They got fights not only on TV but out front of the TV too.”
“He wouldn’t go into Murrillo’s,” said Domínguez. “That suit means too much to Vamenos. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt it.”
“He’d shoot his mother first,” said Martínez.
“Sure he would.”
Martínez and Gómez, alone, listened to Domínguez’s footsteps hurry away down the stairs. They circled the undressed window dummy.
For a long while, biting his lips, Gómez stood at the window, looking out. He touched his shirt pocket twice, pulled his hand away, and then at last pulled something from the pocket. Without looking at it, he handed it to Martínez.
“Martínez, take this.”
“What is it?”
Martínez looked at the piece of folded pink paper with print on it, with names and numbers. His eyes widened.
“A ticket on the bus to El Paso three weeks from now!”
Gómez nodded. He couldn’t look at Martínez. He stared out into the summer night.
“Turn it in. Get the money,” he said. “Buy us a nice white panama hat and a pale blue tie to go with the white ice cream suit, Martínez. Do that.”
“Gómez—”
“Shut up. Boy, is it hot in here! I need air.”
“Gómez. I am touched. Gómez—”
But the door stood open. Gómez was gone.
