The cantina was old. The lights hung from the ceiling, dark amber, throwing eerie shadows across the stucco walls. From a private room, the boisterous cheers and laughter of the corrida crowd made Maggie wish she was one of the sexy whores who hung out with the matadors and their entourage. She looked at Robert, the young American across the table from her, and sighed.
"I don't think they like Americans to come here," he said.
"What do they care? They want our money," Maggie said.
"This place is where they practice, and talk shop. We just look like tourists." He slumped in his seat as if to make himself less visible.
"Oh, Robert, you are so..." Her brow furrowed, searching for a word.
"Boring?"
"I didn't say that."
"Admit it, Maggie. You only date me because your father won't let you go out with Spaniards."
"My father loves you, Robert." Maggie tipped her glass and finished her drink. "You are too worried about what other people think." She waved to a passing waiter. She was ready for more sangria.
The waiter was young and good looking. He smiled at Maggie. "Another, señorita?" He said.
"You speak English?" Maggie said.
"Poco," he replied. "A little."
"Can we see the practice ring?" Maggie asked, looking up at him with what she hoped her most engaging smile. "You know, where they fight the bulls."
"Si, senorita. The ring is behind the cantina. It's open to the public."
"What's your name?"
"Paulo," he said, rocking back a little on his heels. He held her gaze with his own.
"Can we see the bulls too?" Maggie asked, her excitement rising. Paulo's chest was broad, and she could see tufts of hair peeking out of his shirt.
The waiter winked at her. "You can fight the bull, if you pay, senorita."
"How much?" Maggie asked.
"Wait a minute," Robert said. "Are you nuts?"
"500 pesos," Paulo said, ignoring Robert.
Maggie fished in her bag and pulled out the money.
"Maggie, I'm not going to let you do anything stupid."
Maggie shot Robert a look. "Show us the bull ring, now, please?"
Paulo led them through an arch at the rear. Under a full moon and a starry sky, the ring was illuminated by the windows of the bar, the yellow spread like butter over the white sand.
"Very nice," Robert said. "Now give her the money back. Maggie, let's go home."
"Let's see our bull," Maggie turned to the waiter. His eyes were dancing in the moonlight. He untied his apron and handed it to her.
"Here, you need a cape," he said.
"This is ridiculous!" Robert said.
Maggie took the apron and held it out, in mimicry of a bullfighter's muleta...
Paulo came behind her and adjusted her arms. He whispered in her hair, "Te he, Toro." and with his hands over hers, shook the apron a little.
"Listen, Maggie, I'm leaving. Are you coming or staying?" Robert's face was contorted by shadows.
"I'm fighting a bull," Maggie said. She relaxed her body into the curve of Paulo's embrace. He had his face close to her neck now and she could feel his hot breath.
Robert stalked toward the archway, his furious jaw clenched tightly.
"Te he, Toro," Maggie said, shaking the cape. "What does that mean?"
"It means 'I have you, bull,'" Paulo said.