Romeo Esta Sangrando

A criminal atmosphere like smooth jazz pours from the veins of the hustling city. Police sirens blare in the distance - somewhere they have authority. On the lost cause of 18th street, a turf claimed by steel and led, the air is painted with laughter from the young Cuban men who stand in the brake lights of their cavalcade. Rico pops the cap of another beer as he continues his story.

"I couldn't believe my eyes," he says passionately. "This was the most beautiful chica I had ever seen in my life. So I romanced her and she invited me to her place. After a few glasses of wine, she excused herself for a moment, and I'm sitting there waiting and waiting. I was getting impatient, man! So I find her in the kitchen washing dishes and I wrap my arms around her, kissing her neck and all that, and she's into it! So I turn her around only to find I am caressing the face of her mother!

Romero spits up his beer as Rico and the gang burst into hysterical laughter. Rico overcomes his own hilarity to continue.

"She begins screaming and slapping my face, shrieking 'I knew that couldn't be my husband!'" Rico doubles over.

"What did you say to her?" Romero asks, wiping a tear from his eye.

"The only thing that came to mind," Rico says, "'We could pretend?'"

As the boys' laughter echoes through the street, Romero slaps Rico on the arm, playfully reprimanding him. The night is unfolding to be a joyous one for all but young Frankie, who nervously sips his beer as he intently watches the intersection of 18th and Central. Romero takes notice of Frankie's solitude.

"Frankie!" Romero calls to him, shaking him from his concentration. "What's wrong, deporte?"

"Where do you think Romeo is right now?" Frankie asks Romero.

"Probably smoking those drag racers in his '58!" Rico pantomimes shifting gears and gripping a steering wheel.

"Who knows," Romero answers, "Romeo is as elusive as they come. We shouldn't assume he's not in two places at once. Right, Damien?"

Damien laughs. "Romeo was at your wedding in Key Largo and came to see me in the hospital in Boca Raton in the same hour."

"Wherever he is, companero, you can be sure he's alright," Rico says consolingly. Frankie returns his gaze to the distance, unconvinced.

"I know he can take care of himself," Frankie says, "He's been the only one who could for all his life."

"He had Carlos," Romero says somberly. Smiles fade in remembrance of Romeo's fallen brother. Rico slides off of the car hood.

"They say that everyone has a time that God planned as the right moment to take them away," Rico says, "but the way Carlos was taken, there was no such plan. I have no heart for this heartlessness. But I do have one for Romeo. And he had one for Carlos."

Rico raises his beer. "To Carlos."

The gang toasts in unison and collectively sips their observance.

"To Carlos," Frankie says under his breath.

An engine snarls in the distance. Frankie's eyes light up as he looks back to Romero, who grins at him. Rico steps forward in anticipation. As the engine's blasting roar draws closer, the entire group begins standing at attention. High beams warm the humid dew on the buildings on the corner of 18th and Central. As Romeo's '58 Bell Air screeches around the corner, the rumbling barrage of his motor is joined in harmony by an up-tempo jazz arrangement blaring from the radio. The car comes to a halt at the head of the congregation and out steps Romeo, silhouetted in the light of a streetlamp. He approaches at a deliberately slow pace, stepping into the light, his mean brow glossed with sweat from the hot night.

"Hey man, get me a cigarette."

Rico hurries for his pack, but Romero has already tossed Frankie his own. Frankie walks up to Romeo and lights it for him as he pats him on the back. Romeo takes one long draw from it.

"Where you been, Romeo?" Frankie asks as Romeo walks past him to pace amongst the group.

"Well," Romeo draws from his cigarette, "I know you fellas have been enjoying yourselves... And we're going to get back to that in a moment... But I got something to lay on you about Carlos..."

The boys listen closely, hanging on Romeo's every word as he makes his way through the crowd.

"You all know he was shot down and left like a dog beneath a car without his knife. Cold blood. What you don't know is it was the sheriff that did this."

The news hurts like a bullet to the chest for the gang. Rageful tears well in every man's eye but Romeo's. Romeo reaches into the pocket of his lapel and removes a switchblade for all of them to see. They all recognize it as Carlos'.

"I found this behind that pig's badge with a movie ticket," Romeo says, unable to conceal the hatred in his tone. "And now I'm going to tell you all how I stuck it into his heart."

Their anger is satiated by Romeo's promise of revenge. The disposition of the group shifts from mourning to excitement as they lean in close to hear his recount his story.

"I found him on 52nd," Romeo says, "I walked right up to him and made it very clear who I was: the man about to take his life. He drew his gun. In a blind rage, my vision turned white. When it faded, I saw I had him by the throat as he coughed ropes of blood back onto his own face. Every blood vessel in his eyes had burst. I grabbed Carlos' knife and I pushed it into his chest, savoring every layer of skin, muscle, and bone that it penetrated on its way to his heart. I watched his soul realize that hell awaited as he gargled his last breath..."

Silence falls in the gang as they hunger for more details. The sudden sound of sirens from a few blocks over startles everyone except for Romeo.

"Relax!" Romeo laughs. "All the racket in the world ain't gonna save that copper's ass! He ain't never gonna see another summertime for gunning down my brother."

Romeo puts out the cigarette in his hand and relieves Rico of his beer.

"Tonight is a night for Carlos," Romeo says, finishing the beer, "He's been properly avenged."

Romeo reaches into Romero's car and turns up the radio. Frankie runs up to a smiling Romeo, who grabs him by the neck in a warm embrace. The grievances of the night disappear under the celebration. Romeo sings along with the radio as Rico recounts another hilarious story. Romero and Damien, like children, see how far they can spit in a friendly drunken competition. Romeo runs his comb through his hair, enjoying the careless atmosphere. The night grows older and the beers emptier.

Frankie's smile disappears when he sees Romeo wince and stumble into the car door. Romeo continues to laugh and drink as no one notices. Frankie hastily walks up to Romeo.

"Romeo?" Frankie says concernedly.

"Kid," Romeo says, patting him on the back.

"Are you alright?" Frankie asks.

"I'm about to be."

Romeo pushes himself away from the car and finishes his beer. He walks back to his own car and gets in the drivers' seat. Frankie watches as he pulls off. The gang hollers and waves at him as he peels away into the night. Frankie looks to where Romeo had been leaning and sees a streak of blood on the door.

Romeo can feel the blood in his shoes as he presses the gas pedal. He sings along with the radio, paying it no attention. Romeo rips lawlessly through a red light and pulls up onto the curb in front of an old theatre. He stumbles out of the drivers seat to walk smoothly up to the ticket taker. Romeo searches through his jacket, eventually finding a blood-stained ticket. Although very concerned, the ticket taker lets him pass.

He finds his seat in the empty balcony and unbuttons his jacket to sit. The blood stain from the bullet in his chest is illuminated by the silver light projecting the face of James Cagney. Romeo's eyes maintain their alertness even after his soul has left his body. Over on 18th Street, the Cubans sing praise to him over beers in the light of the sickle moon.