CHAPTER EIGHT

It was time. Adriano knew it. Alyssa knew it. Yet, they both lingered a bit longer within the warmth offered by the covers and by each other’s naked flesh.

“I have to go, babe,” he said finally, giving her a kiss before pulling away.

She let him get up. She wouldn’t hold him back; even though, she was filled with a definite apprehension regarding that afternoon he would spend in the corrida with six bulls.

“It’s just something I have to do,” he said. “Not for my dead father. Not for Fanuco. Not even for Sister Dominica’s orphanage; although, that is probably as good a reason as any. I have to do it to prove something to myself. Prove that I can do it.”

Alyssa thought the whole ritual came across as some kind of primitive initiation, like that of those African tribes who had to have its male members individually go forth and kill a lion with a spear before officially considered ushered into adulthood. If the notion was absurd that Adriano had to kill six bulls before he could become his own man, it was no more absurd than so many of life’s other many foibles.

“I have to know,” he said, “whether I kept out of the ring only to spite my father, or because I really didn’t have the inclination or skill to be a matador. Up until now, I really don’t have the answer, but I will after this afternoon.”

Alyssa laid there in the bed, watching the man she loved. Simultaneously, she coveted the warmth his body had left in the bed with her.

He dressed, but not yet in the traditional suit of lights. He would don that later, along with the traditional montera and false coleta, within a small room at the Plaza de Toros. Then, after that, he would go to a small arena chapel and pray.

After he left her in their hotel room, the next time Alyssa would see him would be when he was entering the bullring, the heavy silk of his embroidery-encrusted costume catching brilliant rays of the afternoon sunshine. She was uneasy. She was afraid for him but she wouldn’t try to stop him, intuitively knowing that the best way to hold onto a man was often just giving him leave to go.

It wasn’t as if he was leaving her forever. No way! He was Lalo Montego’s son, and how many fiestas had Lalo gone through before his moment of death in the afternoon? Even Lalo’s eventual death on the horn of a bull became suspect, considering the incestuous marriage ceremony it aborted.

When Adriano finished dressing, he came over to the bed, leaned down, and kissed her again. She wrapped his neck with her arms, pulling him down closer. When he pulled away, this time, he said. “You will come?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Good.” He kissed her fingertips, hesitated a moment, and then left.

Alyssa checked her wristwatch. It was three o’clock. The bullfight was scheduled to begin promptly at six. Six in the afternoon: there was a poem that kept repeating that phrase over…and over…and over.

She had plenty of time. The hotel was within easy walking distance of the Plaza. Adriano had purposely booked them into a room that had assured their being together as long as possible.

She filled the tub with bath salts and hot water. She submerged herself into the steaming bubbles and liquid, and she shut her eyes.

Did she know what she was letting herself in for, falling in love with Adriano Montego? She really didn’t have the answer to that—yet. She only knew that she did love him. She loved him with all of her heart and soul, and now she was quite positive he loved her. Certainly, he would have had to be an exceptional actor to have faked his passion of the night before.

“Surely, you need your rest,” she had told him during one point in the course of their lovemaking. She had wanted him to know that she would have understood had he decided to forego passion for sleep.

“I never prescribed to the old wives’ tale that sex drains a man of his strength,” he had told her, his lips moving sensuously against her ear. “Quite to the contrary.…”

She left the bathtub and dried. She dressed and checked herself out in the mirror. She was looking good! She was looking very good! Obviously, being in love agreed with her.

She tried to imagine how she would look, there in the bullring stands when Adriano dedicated his first bull to her, as he said he planned.

“The first bull should be dedicated to the woman I so love,” he had told her.

What would Ladonna Hidalgo have to say to that? Probably very little. Ladonna seemed quite resolved to her upcoming role as wife to a man over three times her age. That she didn’t love Victoro Isidro probably made little difference to her. She hadn’t loved Adriano Montego, either, and she had been prepared to marry him.

Alyssa gave herself one more once-over. Then, she left the hotel room, locking the door behind her.

On the street, she was immediately caught up in the stream of people en route to Madrid’s great bullring, the Plaza Monumental. She checked to make sure she had her ticket. Scalpers were getting even bigger fortunes for the small slips of red-and-yellow paper that gave access to the bullring that afternoon, since it had been revealed that it would be Adriano Montego, not Fanuco de Galena in the arena. It wasn’t everyday the son of Lalo Montego took to the corrida—for charity, or for otherwise.

The whole atmosphere was one of charged excitement. Huge photographs of Adriano were plastered on almost every flat surface. Bullfight posters announced the fight in bright splotches of color that wrapped every pole.

Literally hundreds of people moved with Alyssa through the Moorish arches of the building. Hundreds more arrived via the two subway stations that flanked the front of the Plaza.

Cars, buses, and taxis were all involved in the massive traffic jam in the streets on all sides. Angry drivers honked horns that rose in loud cacophony.

Vendors hawked their wares: candies, chewing gum, soft drinks, lottery tickets, postcards.…

Alyssa found the reserved box that already had Joaquín Hidalgo in it, waiting for her. Ladonna had excused herself to sit in the box her fiancé, Victoro Isidro, had acquired for himself and several of his family and friends. Alyssa was glad Ladonna wouldn’t be close. That woman’s oddness made Alyssa uneasy, especially now that Alyssa knew Ladonna was Lalo Montego’s daughter.

“Ah, Alyssa!” Joaquín exclaimed in greeting. “I just left Adriano a few moments ago. I must say, he’s in exceptionally good spirits. And you, my dear, look radiant. Obviously, love is a wonderful stimulant, yes?”

“Yes,” she agreed.

Joaquín’s attention was diverted by one of the gentlemen in an adjoining box. After first introducing Alyssa, he became involved in an animated discussion with the man concerning the muleta style of El Viti compared to the cape work of the great Belmonte.

Alyssa was glad for the respite. She didn’t feel like talking. What she wanted to do was sit there and soak up the ambience, like a sponge soaked up water. She needed time to realize she had fallen in love with a man who might yet become one of Spain’s top matadors. Adriano was good; even Alyssa had seen that when he’d faced a mere heifer at the Hidalgo Hacienda.

In the Presidential Box, the Commissioner and his guests had taken their seats. At his disposal, he had four handkerchiefs: green to register a bad bull; red to request special banderillas for a specific animal; blue to honor the death of any exceptionally brave bull and have it dragged in a triumphant turn around the ring; white to award the matador’s performance with a dead bull’s ear, ears, and/or tail. The white would also begin the corrida.

The Commissioner laid the white handkerchief over the wooden balustrade in front of him. The trumpeter across the ring, waiting that very signal, put his musical instrument to his lips and began the first metallic notes in announcement of the beginning of la fiesta brava.

Alyssa came to her feet with the rest of those thousands in the stands with her.

The procession appeared from the shadow-clogged corridor that gave access to the sand of the arena.

Amid the strains of the band playing the traditional pasodoble, amid the deafening screams of the fans, Alyssa’s heart thrilled at the sight of her lover’s appearance into the blinding light of the afternoon sunshine.