The Cracks in the Labyrinth

Chapter 8 (Part 2)

"Well, well, if it isn't Mr. Comedian," said Papa Smurf when he saw Lili and Adam get out of the elevator. Now that the kid was standing on top of the roof of a refrigerator truck, wearing a red cap and his mid-school uniform, none would have argued that his nickname suited him perfectly. "Tell me, do you still have enough fingers to jerk off?"

"Does he call you Mr. Comedian too?" Lili asked in a low voice. "Why?"

"No idea," Adam shrugged. He was more concerned with the unnatural, eternal darkness that seemed to consume that underground parking lot.

"Papa Smurf!" Lili waved at him. "How are you?"

"Not as good as you, baby. Bit busy, though." Papa Smurf pointed at a kid carrying a flour bag on his shoulder; his voice went from lewd to sharp, like a whip. "Hey! Today mother fucker!"

Adam couldn't believe his eyes: besides the kid that had picked up the pace, at least a dozen teenagers, some that he already knew from Magdala's gym, where unloading food supplies (flour, grains, canned goods) to place them in the private lock-up stores at the back of the parking lot.

The beaten-up truck where they were unloading the food from didn't even have a license plate. Adam would not ask where it all came from, but he was sure that they had either stolen it or 'bought' it at the regulated prices established by the government, which were so low that he thought of it as stealing it, anyway.

Oh, come on! Adam noticed that the canned goods they were unloading were the same kind he was buying every week. Papa Smurf is controlling the Bachaqueros in this place. I'm buying my food from him!

After jumping off the truck, Papa Smurf pointed at Adam, "What's this sad faggot doing here?"

"Do you know each other?" asked Lili. "Small world."

"He doesn't know me," Papa Smurf was now right in front of Adam, their chests almost touching. It didn't matter that Adam was a handspan taller than him; the boy looked more imposing, perhaps because his blue shirt was short enough to make something clear: he was armed. "If this faggot knew who I was, he would have minded his own business last night. It's common sense."

"Common sense is the least common of all senses," Adam held his ground, not giving an inch.

"Fag thinks he's funny," said Papa Smurf to Lili without taking his eyes off Adam.

"Like a Radio Rochela cast member."

Papa Smurf took a step back, looking puzzled.

"What the hell is a Radio Rochela?

Lili waved her hand dismissively.

"Never mind. We are old. You don't know that show."

"Well, if Mr. Comedian here wants to keep getting older, he is going to leave in..." Papa Smurf looked at his wrist as if he was wearing a watch. "Ten... nine... eight..."

"I can get you tickets to Los Leones games," Lili hurried up to say.

Papa Smurf stopped the countdown, considering the offer.

"Nah... Seven... six..."

"Tickets to every game."

"Every game?" Papa Smurf asked.

"VIP access too."

The boy scrunched his nose and shook his head.

"Five... four..."

Lili came closer to Papa Smurf and leaned forward to meet his eyes while also making her cleavage even more difficult to ignore.

"Papa, the favor is for me."