Different Circles

Conquistar el Dia was like pretty much every other working-class bar Jake had ever been in. There was music playing from the speakers. There was a long wooden bar that ran the length of one wall, and it had a large mirror behind it, racks and racks of booze bottles stacked in front of the mirror, a half dozen or so blue jeaned and pullover shirted men sitting at the bar with a few modestly dressed women. There were cocktail tables scattered about here and there with a few more men and women sitting at them. There was a tattered old billiards table in one corner and a few electronic dart boards in another. There were a few differences from American bars, however. The thick haze of cigarette smoke was one thing—smoking in bars had been outlawed in California a few years back. The fact that all of the conversation, all of the signs on the walls, the posters, the advertisements, even the music, were in Spanish was another.

That conversation seemed to fade out to nothingness once Eddie and Jake entered. Everyone seemed to be staring at them for a moment. And then, slowly, everyone turned their eyes away and went back to their own business, although at a lower volume than before. The security man who had entered first was standing at a corner of the bar, where several empty seats were available. He pointed to them.

“Let’s head over,” Eddie suggested.

“Let’s do it,” Jake said.

He followed Eddie over and they grabbed seats next to each other. Once they were seated, the two security men took up separate positions: one by the restroom door, the other by the main door. Jake looked from one to the other for a moment and then shrugged it off.

“So...” he said, turning to his host. “What’s good here?”

“Have you ever tried Club Colombia Brava?” Eddie asked.

“I never have,” Jake told him.

“It’s one of the better brews made by one of our national breweries,” he explained. “A flavorful pilsner with a healthy kick.”

“Sounds good,” Jake said.

One of the bartenders came over. He was a man in his late forties, his face weathered by time and likely alcoholism. He sported a mustache almost as thick and unruly as Eddie’s. His eyes appeared to be nervous as he looked at his two customers. He said something in rapid-fire Spanish. Jake was able to understand just enough to gleam that he was welcoming them to Conquistar el Dia and that he considered it an honor that they were patronizing the establishment.

“Gracias,” Eddie responded. He then fired back some Spanish of his own. Jake followed along enough to get that Eddie was telling him that his friend here was from America, was a famous musician, and that they would very much enjoy two Bravas from the tap.

“En sequida, Señor, ” the bartender said. He then quickly pulled two glasses down and went to the tap.

He returned less than a minute later, two frosty glasses of an amber colored beer in hand. He set them down before them on cocktail napkins.

“Gracias,” Eddie told him. He then pulled out a leather wallet. “Cuanto te debo?”

The bartender shook his head sternly and spit out another rapid-fire burst of Spanish; the gist of which Jake understood was that Señor Gomez’s money was no good here.

Eddie smiled and nodded approvingly. “Gracias, Gracias,” he said, his eyes warm. He put his wallet away and then turned to Jake. “I make a lot of donations to local charities here in Chia,” he explained.

“I see,” Jake said with a nod. He picked up his beer and had a sniff. It smelled like beer.

“A toast,” Eddie said. “To unfettered business dealings.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Jake told him. And he did. The beer was actually quite good. Not as good as Lighthouse Ale, but it blew any mass-produced American beer right out of the water. And it did indeed pack quite a punch. After only one, Jake felt the definite beginnings of a strong buzz in his head.

“Do you play darts, Jake?” Eddie asked him.

“I have been known to throw a few,” Jake allowed.

Eddie smiled and nodded in the direction of the dart boards. “Perhaps you would accept a challenge from me?”

“Perhaps,” Jake said. “Is it the same game here as it is in the states?”

“Where do you think the dart boards come from?” Eddie asked. “We start at three hundred and one and work down to zero.”

“That’s how we play it all right,” Jake said. “Let’s do it.”

“Of course, the game is a bit more entertaining if a wager is involved,” Eddie said.

“True,” Jake agreed, “but I don’t have much Colombian money on me, as I mentioned.”

“I have enough of that,” Eddie said. “I propose a more lucrative wager.”

“Such as?” Jake asked.

“Three out of five,” Eddie said. “If you win, I take fifty thousand American dollars off the agreed-to price of the Avanti.”

Jake raised his eyebrows. “Interesting,” he said slowly. “And if I lose?”

“You add fifty thousand American to the price.”