Chapter 5

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Tomás’s ear hurt. He had to dig his fingernails into his palm to keep from fiddling with the device. He stood outside KJ’s, listening to the thumping music that accompanied each go-go boy. He was glad for the breeze that tempered the insufferable Houston heat. Finally, after nearly two hours, there was Tiburón, who looked him up and down.

“?Cuánto para el culo, putito?” Tiburón said, stopping to grope and squeeze Tomás’s butt cheeks. He pressed the bulge of his pants into Tomás. “How much for, say…three hours?”

Tomás looked away. “I’m not sure. I don’t normally do this.” Even with the police watching, standing next to Tiburón unnerved him. The other dancers had been wary long before anyone knew he was connected to El Sistema. Tiburón was too young and handsome to need street hustlers. Tonight he was dressed a bit like Tomás. A blazer and dress pants, a white shirt with enough buttons open to reveal part of the Sistema tattoo.