So it was with Santa!

But, on the night of her breakup with Rubio, she foresaw none of this. Habituated to the easy triumph of her delightful, sinful flesh and emboldened by the alcohol that softened the aches of her ailing body and her disastrous lifestyle, she gave the event no importance. Her quasi-imprisonment with one man had ended? Bravo! That was fine with her! It had lasted too long already. Another man would come along. And if another individual didn't, a crowd of them would—eager, supplicating, humble, patient, and ridiculous, all with like offers and similar foolishness, seeking the same thrills, imploring her to let them love her. Men? Ha! She scoffed at all of them, the whole sex. Remembering their macho expressions and attitudes, unable to contain herself, she laughed aloud in the grubby interior of the rental coach as it lurched along in the stream of traffic. For an instant she thought of looking for Hipólito to tell him about the breakup and about her decision not to return to Elvira's house, but her thinking had been so addled by dipsomania that she rejected the idea and even chuckled at the thought of his dismay at finding that she had flown the coop. She would let him know later.

The coach halted at a place that Santa failed to recognize.

“What house is this?” she asked the coachman when he opened the little window and looked in.

“It's an expensive one,” he replied, turning his eyes to the house. There's a bunch of gringas here that speak in their language.”

“Americanas? No way, idiot! You couldn't force me in there at gunpoint! They don't like us. Take me to la Tosca's house.” She started to explain where it was.

“I know where it is,” said the driver, climbing back up to his seat and cracking his whip. “It'll be just another minute.”

But la Tosca, Elvira's competitor and enemy, and Spanish like her, refused to admit Santa to her establishment, informed, no doubt, by the sisterhood of the brothels, that although Santa had been in high demand she had a tendency to leave with individuals, something that annoyed the regular customers, who preferred more stability in the staff, even when not so pretty and stylish. It was known, as well, because of the anti-Santa conspiracy that had started at Elvira's house, that the girl had been in the hospital without a clear explanation of the reason. Supposedly, she had then gotten pneumonia, but who was going to believe that? It was known, finally, that she was currently mixed up with a rich fellow who had rented her a house and who would certainly not approve the impertinent departure of his mistress following some inconsequential spat. And, above all, why didn't she just go back to Elvira's, which seemed the logical thing, when her stay there had been such a gold mine? Something wasn't right with Santa, that was for sure!

La Tosca offered her a drink of anisette and, alone with Santa in her bedroom, with its tacky decorations typical of a brothel's madam, she sweetly took the girl's hands and with a tranquil smile explained the reason for her refusal: