Blondie walked over to the cassette recorder and changed the music: Daniel Santos was the latest guest for the night. Then, in no great hurry, he went after the mulatto, held him up under the armpits, while the little black took his ankles. They went out though a door at the back of the yard which the Count hadn’t noticed.

Candito looked at his other customers. For a moment only Daniel Santos’s voice could be heard.

“Nothing happened, get it…?” he said finally. “If anyone wants another beer, then ask me, right?” and he lifted up the chair knocked over by his speed of take-off.

The Count had already sat down and Skinny was wiping away the sweat that had started to bathe every inch of his fat body.

“What happened, Red?” Skinny took a long, long swig.

“Don’t worry. As they say: aggro that goes with the trade.”

“The guy was after me, right?”

Now Candito gulped down his beer and took a piece of cheese without looking up.

“I don’t know, Conde, but he was after somebody,” he breathed loudly, still chewing.

“And how the fuck do you know, Red, if the guy didn’t say a word?” Skinny couldn’t get over his shock.

“You don’t give them time to speak, Carlos, but he was after somebody.”

“Fuck, they almost killed him.”

Red smiled and wiped his forehead: “The real bitch is that’s how it’s got to be, my friend. Here it’s the law of the jungle: respect is respect. Now neither that guy or any of the people here or anybody who hears the story of what happened will dare try it on.”

“And what will they do with him now?” Curiosity gnawed at Skinny, who was sipping his drink nervously.