Outlaws

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‘Shall we begin?’

‘Yes, but first let me ask one more question. The last one.’

‘Go ahead.’

‘Why have you agreed to write this book?’

‘Didn’t I tell you already? For the money. I’m a writer, that’s how I make my living.’

‘Yes, I know, but is that the only reason you agreed?’

‘Well, it’s not every day you get an opportunity to write about a character like El Zarco, if that’s what you mean.’

‘You mean you were interested in Zarco before you were asked to write about him?’

‘Of course, isn’t everybody?’

‘Yeah. Anyway, the story I’m going to tell you isn’t Zarco’s story but the story of my relationship with Zarco; with Zarco and with. .’

‘Yes, I know, we’ve talked about that too. Can we begin?’

‘We can.’

‘Tell me when you met Zarco.’

‘At the beginning of the summer of 1978. It was a strange time. Or that’s how I remember it. Franco had died three years earlier, but the country was still governed by Franco’s laws and still smelled exactly the same as it did under Franco: like shit. I was sixteen years old back then, and so was Zarco. We lived very near each other, and very far away from each other.’

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