I feel the men watch me walk away. Certain towns like this feel frozen, like time functions differently, drips through an IV. I tap the driver’s-side window, because El Alemán has locked himself into the car. He and Jeanette swelter, their faces shiny. El Alemán rolls down the window just a sliver.

“There’s one phone in the town,” I say. “Ten minutes from here in some lady’s house. One of the townspeople will take us.”

“Are you crazy, woman?” El Alemán shouts.

At this, Jeanette’s eyes widen. I see her perk up. Her bracelets jangle as she crosses her arms.

“There is no way in hell I am going anywhere with one of those people,” El Alemán says. “That’s the setup, you see? They did something to the car and now they’ll lead us over to this ‘phone,’ and that’s where they’ll rob us.” He glares in the direction of the cafetería. “Get in the fucking car,” he says.

“No.” A knot blooms in my chest.

“You don’t have to talk to her like—” Now Jeanette looks angry.

“You have a better idea?” I say to El Alemán. His face is turning red, redder than its natural red.

I see Jeanette shift in her seat and bite a nail. She eyes El Alemán and then looks at me like she’s trying to communicate something with her eyes. Her lips curl.

“Tell the Black one to go himself,” El Alemán says. “Tell him to call a mechanic. Tell that worthless thief I’ll give him a dollar and that’s all he’s getting from me.”

Now Jeanette opens the door and comes to stand beside me. “Qué comemierda este viejo,” she says in accented Spanish, and I try to stifle a laugh.

“You’re going with her?” El Alemán says. “Well, I guess I’m the only one who values my life.”

Jeanette ignores him. She takes my elbow as she did in the sugarcane field, only she’s gripping me harder now. We start walking toward the cafetería.

The men have gone back to their baseball game. The whole town is silent, so different from La Habana. The only sound is the drone of the television.

“You really don’t think someone did something to the car?” she asks when we’re out of earshot.

“No,” I say. “That’s not how it works.”

“How what works?”

“You make friends, not enemies, if what you’re after is money.”