Act 1, Scene 15

MELI

Fede wasn’t as interested in the director’s proposal as I sort of expected, and an awkward silence ensued. To break it, I suggested going for tacos, but then Rolo, Berto’s self-titled guerrilla brother, loudly entered the theater bleeding from the side. Safe to say my appetite was gone.

Berto shouted: “Rolo! We gotta go, they’re coming for me!”

And then we saw red and blue, red and blue flashes on the windows. We all shut up, the only sound being Berto’s heavy breathing. Ideas popped up in whispers: 

“Go out from the back!”, 

“No, they’ll catch them in the alley!”, 

“Under the seats”, 

“The cops will catch him there”, 

“Through a sewer?”, 

“You want his injury to get infected?!”

I then approached Berto and asked him where the police found him. It was near the Rio 70 movie theater. Okay, that meant there was a chance I knew the cops outside. I headed to the entrance but Fede stopped me.

(As Fede) “Huh, where are you going?”

To say hi, man.. What do you think?

(As Fede) I’ll go with you.

Fede was sweating bullets, though he looked calm. I took his hand and told him that they would not do anything to me; nobody ever did anything to me. Maybe he could check on Berto in the meanwhile, apply some of those first aid guerrilla lessons his parents had given him. He took a big breath and nodded without a word. He could look pretty handsome under pressure.

I got out and there he was, good old Claudio Termos, the cop who had arrested me the second most times.

(Meli’s impression of Termos sounds fun, nice and jovial, though raspy from years of alcoholism and smoking. There’s an underlying sharpness and cunning to it.)

(As Termos) Imelda! Darling! How are you?

Termos always stank of booze, but you couldn’t deny he had the nicest smile. That was his secret weapon.

(As Termos) You know, dear. Right now’s not the time for you to be around here.

(When talking to Termos, Meli feigns a naive, sugary, preppy girl tone.)

(As Naive Rich Girl) ¿Why not, Officer?

I saved my dumb rich girl voice for such occasions.

(As Termos) We’re looking for somebody. Boy your age. Artsy-like, just like the ones you hang out with. And wouldn’t you know, just like the ones who come to this theater here.

(As Naive Rich Girl) Well, we haven’t seen anything at all.

(As Termos) Well, you and who else? You can tell me. What’re you kids up to?

(As Naive Rich Girl) Narrative bauhaus ballet.

(As Termos) Which drug was that one?

(As Naive Rich Girl) It isn’t. It’s theater.

(As Termos) Ah, come on! Live a little, Imelda.

(As Naive Rich Girl) We haven’t seen anything, Officer.

(As Termos) Might this boy be a friend of yours?

(As Naive Rich Girl) I have many friends.

(As Termos) Too many, If you ask me. You can’t help if we end up pampering at least one.

(As Naive Rich Girl) But, what kind of… “pampering” are we talking about.

(As Termos) The appropriate kind. An appropriate pampering.

(As Naive Rich Girl) Would you say, you pamper me appropriately?

(As Termos) Oh, well. You see, we like you, Imelda. We like your family. You’re good people.

(As Naive Rich Girl) So it all depends on the surname.

(As Termos) I mean, why do you think these losers hang out with you? Your good name is a hell of a lifesaver. Whatever, dear. We’ll catch them later. We always catch them.

And so, he was gone. Inside my friends were doing yoga to calm the nerves. Fede and Berto holed up inside a dressing room. Fede was cleaning his wound with a rag and a tequila bottle someone had brought.

            END OF SCENE