Epilogue
In Which Many Things Are Resolved
The summer heat was never so bad when you were near the water, El thought. He wished he were there now. Sweat rolled down his forehead, and even with his hair pulled back, he felt hot and prickly all over. But it was only two o'clock, and he had several hours before he could close shop for the night.
There weren't many tourists out today. He had only made one sale, and Esteban had done no better. That was all right. Making money was nice, but it was only a fringe benefit.
He strolled through the square, picking out notes on the guitar. Some days he worked the stall, but mostly this was how he spent his days. Walking among the tourists, smiling at pretty señoritas, playing his guitar and luring them over to Esteban, hoping they might buy something.
Guayabo was never going to be a very big town. Nor would it ever be a center of culture. Those things did not matter. El felt comfortable here. He liked it here. He had a house on the beach. He made guitars and he played them and sometimes he sold one or two.
Life was good.
Maria, the woman who sold the flowers she grew in her own garden, smiled at him as he walked by. She was twice his age, and Esteban said she had a crush on him. El smiled back at her and lifted his hand from the strings long enough to wave at her.
He turned the corner, aiming for a group of teenage boys. One of them had been looking longingly at the guitars lately. Perhaps today could be the day he stopped looking, and started thinking seriously about buying.
The prickling on the back of his neck increased. El froze in tracks. He could no longer pretend that the sensation was due solely to the heat. Someone was staring at him.
He turned around, the potential teenage buyer forgotten. "Sands."
"Hey, El."
Sands sat on one of the iron benches lining the square. One arm was flung over the back of the bench; his suit jacket gaped open, revealing the fact that he was unarmed. A lit cigarette dangled from his fingers. He looked tanned and healthy, and he was smirking.
"What are you doing here?" El demanded. "I thought you were leaving Mexico."
"I did," Sands said. "Then I decided to come back."
"Why?" El asked. He hoped Sands had not decided that this was the place for his schemes, that Mexico was a country he could still manipulate to his pleasure. If that was the reason, El would escort him to the border, and make sure he never came back.
"Oh, I have my reasons," Sands said. Sunlight reflected off his sunglasses, such a natural sight that El half-expected him to pull the shades down and peer over them just so he could look into El's eyes.
But of course that was never going to happen.
El decided to let it go. Sands was not going to give his reasons for returning to Mexico, that much was obvious. At least, not until he was ready to reveal them. If indeed that day ever came.
That was all right. El could wait.
So he asked, "Where did you go?"
"I had that unfinished business to take care of, remember?" Sands blew a stream of smoke in El's direction. "San Antonio is rather lovely in April. You would have loved it."
San Antonio. El went cold all over. "What did you do?"
Deliberately Sands stubbed out his cigarette, being very thorough and precise. He meant to make El wait, and El knew it, and he hated the man in that moment.
"Did you know our dear friend Eddie Archuleta was into kiddie porn?" Sands asked. He spoke casually, like he might ask if it was going to rain tomorrow.
El's eyes narrowed. "Was he?"
"The FBI was quite pleased to get my tip-off." Sands smirked. "Everyone has a secret, El. All you have to do is find out what it is, and you'll come out on top every time."
El could not say he was sorry to hear about Archuleta's fate. Doing time in prison might make the man change his mind about a few things. Nor was he bothered by this evidence of Sands' shiny new manipulative streak. He knew Sands would never turn that twisted brilliance on him, and that was all that mattered. Others might become a target, but he, El Mariachi, was safe.
"So what is your secret?" he asked. "Since you say everyone has one."
"Oh, I can't tell you that," Sands said with a smile. "You have to find it out for yourself."
Despite himself, El smiled back. He had known Sands would respond that way, but somehow hearing the words pleased him.
"Then what is my secret?" he asked.
"Yours?" Sands took his arm off the back of the bench and leaned forward. "Are you sure you want to hear this?"
There was something predatory in the way he sat there, and El felt his heart skip a beat. Up until two seconds ago, he had thought he knew what Sands would say, but suddenly he was not so sure.
Still, he had to know.
"Tell me," he demanded. "What is my secret?"
"Why, it's simple," Sands said. "You're glad to see me again." He stood up and moved away from the bench. As El stood there, too stunned to move, he clapped El on the shoulder, and began walking away. Within minutes, he was lost among the tourists, just another visitor in town.
Later, he sat on the beach and waited. The moon was only half-full, but it provided enough light to see.
He heard their voices first. A light child's voice, and a deeper man's voice. They walked up the sand, the child leading the way, the man carrying two shadowy objects. The boy stopped when he saw El, and dipped his chin respectfully. El recognized him as one of Esteban's grandchildren. He stood up and gave the boy a small smile.
"We're here, señor." The boy looked up.
Sands set his guitar case down. He shrugged, and a thick strap slipped from his shoulder, letting a battered duffel bag thump onto the sand. He took his free hand off the boy's shoulder, reached into his pocket, and brought out a few folded bills. "Here. Go buy something for yourself."
The boy grinned and snatched the money. "Gracias!" He glanced again at El, then scampered off into the night.
El did not say anything. He just stood there.
"Well?" Sands said. "Are you going to invite me in, or am I going to have to set up camp in your backyard?"
The sheer audacity of the man almost made El smile, in spite of himself. He realized that he had always known it would end this way. Ever since that day in Acapulco, sitting on the beach while waiting for his life to begin again.
It had begun in Acapulco, but this was always how it had been going to end.
And then he found himself thinking, No, it did not begin in Acapulco. It begins now. Today. At this moment.
"I don't know," he said. "Can you earn your keep?"
Sands gave the guitar case a small kick. "Want to hear?"
"Why are you really here?" El asked. "What do you want with me?" No matter what else might happen, he could never forget how he had met Sands, or the terrible week they had spent trying to outwit and outsmart each other, when an innocent boy had paid the price for their combined ignorance.
"I'll give you a hint," Sands said. "Have you ever heard the saying, 'Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer'?"
That was vintage Sands, El thought. Never revealing what he truly thought, always making El guess what he was meant. El did not mind. This was one game he was perfectly happy to play; he knew he was just as good at it as Sands was. " So which one am I?" he asked. "Your friend, or your enemy?"
Sands smirked. "That would be telling you my secret."
Perhaps it had always been meant to end this way, but El still felt some trepidation as he walked up to his front door. He hesitated a moment before pushing it open. Light spilled out onto the sand. He took a deep breath. "Come on in," he said.
Sands nodded. His shoulders slumped a little with relief. Seeing that made El feel a little better. Sands didn't have all the answers, either. He might pretend to, but he was just like El, figuring things out as he went along.
Sands slung the strap of the duffel bag over his shoulder again, then picked up the guitar case. A little unsteadily, he walked toward the sound of El's voice. When he veered off course, El kicked the doorframe, knocking the sand off his boots and letting the chains on his pants jingle.
Immediately Sands corrected his course. He walked past El and into the house.
After a moment, El followed him in, and shut the door.
Author's Notes: I must say thank-you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story, particularly those who have commented on every chapter. I'm always a bit stunned that people would take the time to write a review, and I greatly appreciate each and every one.
An enormous thank-you goes to Melody for being such a wonderful beta reader. She always keeps me honest. If you find any mistakes in this story, they are completely my fault and not hers.
Last, I must admit, although this story has let me know that it is ended, part of me is not too keen on leaving El and Sands where I did. I need to begin working again on my own original writing, but I very much want to know what happens next with El and Sands. Hopefully the muse will strike again soon…. You never know!
Thanks again for reading,
Rebecca