I didn’t know how late I’d be out with Wil, so I dropped Rosemary off with Mercedes and told her I’d call her in the morning. When I saw my brown dog run through her apartment, heading for the cat door to go to the backyard, I said, “He loves being with you. I wish my loft had access to a yard.”

“He’s a good house dog and everyone at the club loves him.”

She took off her glasses and rubbed her nose, so I said, “What is it, mujer?”

She shook her head, sending her dreads bouncing around. “I’m not getting involved.”

“You think I’m going too fast with Wilcox, but you don’t know the half of it with Ian.” His mouth sucking on Cricket, her blond hair against him. “He told me I’d kill someone eventually. That’s what he thinks of me. I’m not going to see him again.”

She didn’t say anything, but the furrow in her brow was still there.

“Mercedes, you’re always doing things for me. What can I do for you?”

“Keep me out of this business with Wilcox,” she said. “You did something anyway. Those demos you brought back are great. I’m going to contact the bands and see if we can work anything out.”

“Anything as in a gig or a recording?”

“I’m hoping. Oh, my mom sent a present for you.” She went to her bedroom and returned with a garment bag. “It was my grandmother’s, and Mami thought you’d like it.”

I took the garment bag and unzipped it. Inside was a scarlet satin cocktail dress with a lovely low sweetheart neckline and a tight waist. The fabric had a soft luster like old pearls. “Oh, Mercedes, it’s beautiful! You can’t give this away.”

“Can you see me wearing it?” she said, and laughed. “Even if my sisters had the tetas for it, they prefer new clothes. You like vintage.”

I gave her a besito and said, “Thank you! I’ll save it for a special night at your club.”

When I returned to my loft, I admired the beautiful dress for a few minutes before getting ready for Wil’s visit.

I set out beeswax candles, rinsed and polished my best wineglasses, and changed my bed linen. My duvet had smudges from Rosemary’s muddy feet and I didn’t have time to wash it. On my craft table, I saw the woven cloth that Don Pedro had given me.

It was large enough to cover the bed. The yarn was soft and had a delicate floral fragrance, like the powdery scent of plum blossoms. It felt almost as if it had been dusted with talcum. I rubbed my fingertip against the cloth and then touched my tongue. It tasted faintly of dried grass, but not druggy dried grass.