Bobby quickly discovered that few things were as dull as being the only sober person is a roomful of drunks, so he joined his new friends in booze, marijuana and pills. It was hard to decline when they offered him something stronger, but Bobby took Allison’s advice and thought about the darkest days of his addiction.
The party broke up shortly after sunrise. By then, Bobby had passed out. When he awoke, it was mid-afternoon. Bobby felt a dull throbbing in his back and neck from having slept on the floor. He flicked a cockroach off his arm, sat up, and immediately clasped his forehead.
“Goddamn, that hurts.”
Bobby focused his eyes and saw Manuel sitting at a card table, pulling a syringe out of his left arm and loosening a tourniquet. Manuel threw his head back and heaved a sigh of pure ecstasy.
“Hi, Manuel.”
“Oh! Hello, Bobby. I thought you were dead.”
“Nah, just feels that way.” He slowly rose to his feet and touched his forehead again. “Son of a bitch.”
Manuel handed him a pill.
“Thanks.” Bobby swallowed the tablet.
“I could’ve given you a drink.”
“I used to pop ‘em dry all the time. Hey, where’s Tris?”
“She went home.”
Bobby’s face fell. “Without saying goodbye to me?”
“How could she? You were dead to the world. Besides, you know where to find her.”
Bobby pulled a folding chair up to the card table and sat across from Manuel. “She’s great, isn’t she? When I made love to her last night, she wouldn’t even let me pay for it.”
“She says you make her happy. God knows that woman could use some happiness in her life.”
“What do you mean?”
“Tris hasn’t told you about her past?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t know if I should tell you.”
“Aw, come on.”
“I don’t know. Tris is an old friend. I wouldn’t want her thinking I betrayed her.”
Bobby pulled out his wallet and handed Manuel fifty dollars. A smile filled his hideous face.
“Well, if you put it that way…” Pausing, Manuel continued, “At one time, Tris was happily married. But then she had a miscarriage. Tris’ husband was this macho idiot who blamed her for the miscarriage and divorced her for it.”
“Wow! Macho idiot, indeed. So, how did Tris react?”
“It destroyed her. That jerk was her whole life, and now he was gone.”
“Did he leave her any money?”
“Not a peso. That’s how she ended up here. Tris began as just another street whore. Now she has her own house.”
Bobby grinned. “Let’s hear it for free enterprise!”
Manuel raised his can of Dos Equis in a toast.
“Know what I’d really like? To bring her to America with me. I think she’d like L.A. Hey, we have just as much smog as Mexico City.”
Manuel chuckled. “And damned near as many Mexicans, from what I hear.”
“I could check her into the same place I went to for my rehab. And once she’s clean, me and Tris could have an awesome life together. Think she’d go for it?”
Manuel said nothing.
Tristessa sat at the front desk and tapped her fingers impatiently. Where the goddamned fuck was Bobby?
She cursed herself for being so childish. He was fourteen years younger than her, for chrissake! Bobby was just another wealthy gringo slumming in Mexico City. Soon he’d be gone and Tris would be heartbroken.
Bobby walked in. Despite herself, Tris broke into a smile and felt her heart racing. But she feigned nonchalance.
“Hello, sleepyhead. When did you finally wake up?”
“Few hours ago.”
“What took you so long to get here?”
Bobby grinned. “Why? Did you miss me?”
“No, just curious. I’m the only person you know in Mexico City. I couldn’t figure out where you’d be.”
“Well, I’m here now. Meet me upstairs?”
After sex, they lay in bed together, Bobby on top of Tris. He stroked her long black hair and gazed into her tormented dark eyes. Tristessa reached up to kiss Bobby.
“I love you, Tris.”
“I love you, too. Promise you won’t leave me?”
“Leave you? Why would I do that?”
“I’m an addict. Being around me could get you back on drugs.”
“Ain’t gonna happen,” said Bobby. “I mean, yeah, the temptation’s there, but I’m fighting it like hell, and I’m gonna win.”
“But your family’s in Los Angeles. You might want to go back to them.”
“If that happens, I’m hoping you’ll come with me.”
She ignored that. “What if your career starts back up?”
Bobby laughed out loud. “That’s the least of your worries.” He rolled off Tristessa and lay next to her. Taking her hand, Bobby said, “You know, seven years ago, I was convinced I’d be the next Elvis. I couldn’t even sing, for chrissake! They modulated my voice so much, it could’ve been anyone doing those songs. I just happened to have this cute little face.”
“You still do.”
“Well, thanks. Boy did, Stronzo have me snowed.”
“Snowed?”
“Fooled. Of course, he had my whole family fooled; well, not my whole family. Allie knew from the start that Stronzo was no goddamned good; but did we listen to her? Of course not. Hell, she was always bitching and moaning about something.”
Bobby rolled onto his stomach and nuzzled Tristessa’s chest. “I’d give up all my money if I could just go back seven years and tell Stronzo to shove it. How about you, Tris? Is there anything you’d change?”
“Do you have all night?”
Bobby’s life in Mexico City quickly became routine. He’d wake up around four in the afternoon, either in Tristessa’s bed or on Manuel’s floor. He’d guzzle a beer, pop a few pills, smoke a joint, and spend the evening making love to Tristessa. When the house close dup for the night, they would head to Manuel’s place for another night of carousing.
The weeks turned into months, during which time Bobby came to the bitter realization that Tristessa had no intention of giving up drugs or of coming to America with him. Her claims to the contrary, it was obvious that Tristessa was content with her sleazy, sordid life.
He spent increasingly less time with her. Rather than sleeping at Tristessa’s, he stayed at hotels in the upscale part of town. He spent his days in the mountains that surrounded Mexico City, glad to breathe non-smoggy air again.
He still thought about Tristessa, but with increasingly less affection and greater contempt. He was disgusted with himself for having been attracted to such a loser in the first place.
Bobby thought about home. Patrice would be eight years old now. Allie would be ready to graduate from college. And his poor mother had been worried sick about him for months.
As he watched the sun set through the smoggy haze that engulfed Mexico City, Bobby turned on his car radio and heard Jose Feliciano’s “Feliz Navidad.” That jolted him. He had left home on Mew Year’s Eve and it was now Christmas?
Bobby shifted into drive, drove down the mountainside, and headed north to L.A.