Bodega Dreams Read Online Free Page B

start your work?”
    “I’m researching even as we speak, see?” I showed her my book.
    Blanca squinted at the title. She had her suspicions but let it go. Then someone knocked at our door. I went to answer it. It was Sapo.
    “Yo, Chino, Bodega wants ta speak with ya.” As always Sapo was Sapo and he said this not caring that Blanca could hear him. She strode to the door and stared at me, waiting to see what I was going to say.
    “What does he want?”
    “Bro, are you coming or not?” Sapo asked impatiently as if I was taking up his valuable time. He didn’t look at Blanca and Blanca didn’t look at Sapo.
    Blanca pulled me away from the door. “Julio, who is this Bodega guy?” she asked, letting the door slam. Sapo waited in the hallway. He hated Blanca and he knew Blanca hated him right back.
    “A friend.”
    “A friend of Enrique’s, you mean?”
    “A friend of Sapo is a friend of mine,” I said, and Blanca shot me an evil look, then pointedly clasped her rounded belly.
    “Blanca, please, I’ll only be gone an hour or two. It’s not like you’re going to give birth any minute, you got months to go.”
    “Julio, we’ve gone through this already. When you leave with him,” she loudly whispered, “I get these feelings,
Dios me salve
.”
    “Blanca, no Christ right now, all right?” This upset her.
    “What about your work?” Her voice got louder. “Weren’t you studying or something?”
    “I just finished.” I don’t know why I said those things to Blanca sometimes when I knew she could see right through me.
    “You mean you want to hang with Sapo.” She sighed and waved her hand dismissively. “Forget it.
Vete.
Act like a single man.” She stormed into the bedroom to get on the phone with her sister, Deborah. Blanca called her sister only when she wanted to hear gossip or to complain about me. Deborah was the complete opposite of Blanca. She wasn’t as pretty, wasn’t Pentecostal, she cursed, drank Budweiser from the can, and got into fights. She was so much the opposite of her kid sister that from the time Blanca was ten and Deborah twelve, everyone called her Negra.
    After the skirmish with Blanca I grabbed my denim jacket and headed out the door. When I came out, I saw Sapo waiting impatiently in the hallway. When he saw me he smiled, his big lips uncovering all his teeth. He was happy, as if he had won some duel.
    “Let me tell you, bro, I always knew you were gonna marry that girl. And that’s all right cuz she’s fine, but you got to admit she’s a bitch sometimes.” His hand landed on my shoulder and he said, “Bodega is nice, man. You’ll like the guy.”
    “What does he want with me?” I asked again.
    “He didn’t say. He just wants ta speak with you, thass all.” We headed toward the stairs and Sapo squeezed my shoulder and thenstopped. He took his hand off me, turned, and looked in my eyes to make sure I was listening.
    “Bodega wants something from you, man. That shit don’t happen often. Know what I’m sayin’?”
    I nodded, and we walked down the stairs.
    “Where does does Bodega live?”
    “Bodega? Bodega lives in a lotta places. He has apartments all over the neighborhood. You got to have many places and juggle your place of dwellin’ in order to create confusion. Only your closest of
panas
can know your exact whereabouts. All I know is he said he wanted to speak with ya and that he was goin’ to be at his place on top of Casablanca. You know where Casasblanca is, don’ cha? That fucken meat market.”
    “Yeah, I know,” I said, and we walked out to the street.
    From my place in the Schomburg projects on 111th and Fifth to Casablanca the
camicería
on 110th between Lexington and Park is only four blocks. Regardless, Sapo led me to his parked BMW and we drove the short distance.
    “There’s this retard at the door yo’r going to meet. He’s Bodega’s cousin. Thass the only reason why Bodega has him around, b’cause you can’t fire your own