Secrets of Spain Trilogy

by Caroline Angus Baker

  Cayetano held his cape so tight that the veins in his hands stood out. Every time the bull passed him, against his body, the men would analyse how the cape swept upwards, how Cayetano’s technique engaged the bull and its attention. The bull would brush against Cayetano and Luna felt surprised by how steady he remained. At one stage, he bent down on one knee as the bull brushed through the cape and the crowd cheered. He had the animal right where he wanted it. Cayetano stood tall, his back straight, with the trademark fire in his pupils, the flecks of green in the brown. While his face didn’t move from his serious expression, his eyes danced with the excitement, with the passion of how much he loved what he did. The way he moved his feet reminded Luna of a graceful ballet dancer.

  Luna could hear Paco talking to Gilberto about how high Cayetano raised his arms as he steadied the sword over the panting animal. They spoke of how close his hands came to the sharp horns, and the way they could see the steadiness of his hands as he held the sword over the animal. The moment the sword sliced into the neck of the beast, Luna flinched. Cayetano plunged it into the animal’s neck with exceptional speed and efficiency, and the ring erupted with sound. Cayetano took a step back to bask in the applause of what he had accomplished, and the bull took a single step before it fell to its death. Luna had no need to understand bullfighting, because the moment Cayetano got it just right, amateurs and aficionados alike could tell. Every move seemed beautiful, perfect, like a dance. The animal had died straight away, garnering much support.

  Cayetano stood in the centre of the ring, his arms up to the crowd as they cheered, and they began to wave white handkerchiefs. It was the symbol that they loved the performance, and petitioned the corrida president to award Cayetano an ear from the dead beast. Luna glanced over at Paco, and he was shaking hands with his brother-in-laws and their sons in a cloud of cigar smoke, as if they had all achieved something themselves. The whole family didn’t need to do anything; they hung on to someone who had the talent to pull the bullfighting dynasty forward on his own. Luna looked back to Cayetano who blew her a kiss, and she blew one back.

  From up in the balcony, the president of the event gestured for Cayetano to be awarded two ears and a tail. Luna laughed as the 13,000 strong crowd applauded and sang, the ring alive with Las Fallas cheer. One ear got awarded for an outstanding performance, two for excellence. Two ears and a tail? That cried of over-indulgence; perfect for the exuberant event.

  For all the pomp and ceremony, for all the practice and the preparation and conjecture, the fights were over fast among the colour, noise and spectacle. Luna cringed as the ears and tail got cut from the dead animal before the carcass got pulled away by horses. The Morales family, along with the other bullfighters hoisted Cayetano on their shoulders in the centre of the ring, the bloody ears and tail in his hands. Poor little Gilberto was in the thick of it, getting bounced around, the cheers of the crowd drowning out the chanting of the Morales family. Luna laughed again as they delivered Cayetano to her at the side of the ring, and dropped him to his feet. He wrapped his arms around her for a kiss, and she was careful to avoid the bloodied animal parts in his hands. Blood trailed between his fingers and dripped onto the sleeves of his jacket.

  “Have I entertained the star guest?” Cayetano yelled over the noise.

  “I think all the VIPs and government officials here would think themselves more important than me!”

  “Not as long as there are ladies to impress. One in particular.”

  “So what do you all do after a fight?” Luna asked the group as they headed inside the bullring. She waited as Cayetano turned and bowed to the crowd, who continued to cheer.

  “We have a night out,” Miguel said. “Find a bar and de-brief…”

  “What he means is we have a few drinks and talk bullshit,” Cayetano said as they escaped the noise of the ring. Even inside the concrete lungs of the bullring, all the applause could still be heard.

  “Can we do it without the dead animal parts?” Luna asked.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll take those,” Eduardo said and took the prizes from the bloodied hands of his cousin.

  “We can do whatever you like,” Cayetano said as he wiped his bloody hands on a towel Alonso handed to him.

  “It’s Valencia on the final night of Las Fallas. The whole city is one colossal party. In a matter of hours, all the statues around the city will be on fire while the air is choked with fireworks.”

  “Do they light the fallas statues with fireworks?” Paco asked.

  “Sometimes. In the case of the one that is erected by our building, last year’s one burned when the fire-fighters arrived. One of them splashed a bit of kerosene around, and another flicked his cigarette on it. The whole thing went up in flames in a few minutes. Don’t worry, they wet the surrounding buildings with their hoses in case the flames lick further than expected.”

  “They spend millions of Euros on 750 statues around the city and then set them all alight at once; that is crazy!” Pedro commented, and his son Miguel nodded.

  “You’re in Valencia now, you have to party our way – in style!” Luna said. “Let’s get the kids and bring them… or does that go against the manly evening you like to enjoy?”

  “We can leave everyone else to do whatever they like tonight. We can take the kids out for a night of paella, churros and burning effigies… wow, I never thought I say something like that,” Cayetano chuckled.

  “Welcome to Valencia!”

  9

  Valencia, España ~ Marzo de 2010

  Luna walked through the Turia park with trepidation. The city was quiet; Las Fallas was over, and the hangover of the fiesta hung in the morning air. A few people, tourists obviously, slept in the grass under in the shade of the trees. The burnt-out shells of fireworks were everywhere, and the smell of the gunpowder hung around, much like the thousands of discarded plastic beer cups from the street parties.

  The night had been a roaring success. Giacomo and Enzo had been so happy to be out at midnight, to see the fallas statues burn to the ground. They were joined by thousands of revellers, all singing and enjoying the celebration of the coming of spring. As if on cue, the sun rose warm over the city that would have a hard time waking up this morning.

  The boys dropped off at school, Luna went into her apartment building, and wished she had to go to work. But no, instead she had to go back into her own apartment, with the whole Beltrán Morales family. No sooner than Luna pulled herself out of bed to tend to her children, the whole family arrived, uninvited, to see Cayetano. Thank God they were all heading back to Madrid.

  “It looked as if they had tried to fit the BULL into the traje de luces!” Cayetano screamed at the top of his lungs the second Luna opened the front door. “What the fuck?”

  Luna followed the booming voice into the living room, to find Cayetano sitting with Paco and his three uncles. Luckily, all the younger guys seemed to have disappeared. “What’s going on?” she asked as she tossed her keys on the coffee table in front of the angry bullfighter.

  “Cayetano has received a bad review in the paper,” Pedro said.

  “Bad?” Cayetano shrieked. “It’s appalling!”

  “Which paper?” Luna asked.

  “ABC,” Jaime replied.

  Luna looked at the other papers on the table. “What about El País, or El Mundo?”

  “They weren’t critical. El País were polite, El Mundo barely bothered to cover it. They published simple articles… happy to see Beltrán back… Beltrán returns to form…”

  “This one is better,” Luis added. He handed Luna a copy of Levante, Valencia’s biggest newspaper. On the cover was all about Las Fallas, the photo of the burning statue in Plaza Ayuntamiento, with tearful fallera girls watching its demise. She turned the page to find a picture of Cayetano, with a large amount of animal blood splattered on his suit as he sat on the shoulders of his peers.

  “Cayetano Beltrán Morales made his triumphant return to the corrida yesterday in
the finale of the Las Fallas bullfighting season, some eight months after being gored at Las Ventas. His noble style and ruthless efficiency provided a spectacle for aficionados and tourists alike,” Luna read out loud.

  “Cold words of comfort right now,” Cayetano said as Luna continued to read the article in silence. “Levante has a readership of 50,000, or fewer.”

  “It’s Valencia’s highest selling daily paper. I’m telling you, Valencia is the place to be,” she muttered.

  Not one of the men around the room even raised a smile. “Oh, come on,” Luna continued. “This is terrific stuff. Get Hector to put the link to the online article on Rebelión’s Twitter account and Cayetano’s Facebook fan-page. The good news will spread. El País and El Mundo are the two biggest papers in the country aren’t they?”

  “El País has a readership of 450,000 and El Mundo is upwards of 350,000 readers per day,” Jaime said.

  “And they were favourable in their comments?”

  “Polite would be a better way of putting it,” Paco said.

  Luna put the paper down on the pile. “So what does it matter about ABC’s comments?”

  “I’ll tell you why,” Cayetano said and picked up the offending issue again. “Because this morning, almost a quarter of a million people will open the paper and read this.” Cayetano flicked to the page about the fight.

  “Cayetano Beltrán Morales, or ‘El Valiente’, as he loves to consider himself, returned to the bullring this weekend, but did nothing to quell his retirement rumours. The Madrileño was slow on his feet, not alert enough and was in danger of being upstaged by local Valencian favourite Pablo Ortez Cantera.”

  “Well, the first time back after an injury can be hard. It’s no different to cycling,” Luna tried to reason.

  But Cayetano hadn’t finished. “Beltrán has lost his impressive, though arrogant, technique. One commenter said, ‘Beltrán has gained so much weight that it looked as if they tried to fit the bull into the traje de luces.’ While Beltrán was awarded two ears and a tail for his efforts, one cannot help but wonder if the white handkerchief-waving crowds were taking pity on him. Perhaps they staged the award of ears and a tail, just to make the fight seem more impressive. Perhaps it was a way of justifying the €400,000 payment made to Beltrán to appear in Valencia for Las Fallas celebrations.”

  Luna exhaled. Harsh. “Fucking right-wing newspapers.”

  “Excuse me?” Pedro said.

  “This isn’t about Luna’s political views,” Paco interrupted. “That’s not important.” He threw Luna a look, and she shut her mouth. Best not to criticise while in a room full of staunch right-wingers.

  “We were relying on good publicity,” Jaime said. “We needed it.”

  “We?” Luna squinted.

  “We run a big business,” Luis said. “Every bit of promotion helps.”

  “But this is all about Cayetano performing, not about Rebelión. I fail to see how Cayetano can be in charge of bull breeding without suffering a conflict of interest.”

  “Don’t worry, Luna,” Paco said. “I don’t plan on retiring just yet.”

  “There is a recession on, has been for years now,” Pedro said. “We are all trying to keep Rebelión afloat…”

  “Don’t worry, I will put all my earnings from this fight into Rebelión… again…” Cayetano sighed. “And I will earn the same by appearing in Seville in April, and for San Isidro in Madrid in May, so even if bull sales continue to fall, we will be okay, for now.”

  “Are things that bad?” Luna asked.

  “Luna, you don’t need to worry,” Paco replied. “It’s men’s business.”

  “If I’m marrying into all this, then it is my business!”

  “The market is just tight,” Cayetano said to her. “With the economy down, the numbers of fights are down with councils unable to afford as many bullfights or bull runs. Fewer fights, fewer sales. Luckily, the Valencian government still splashes money around when things are dire. There is competition for public money at every turn.”

  “Not a problem for you, you’re the number one torero.”

  “I won’t be forever, I’m forty already.”

  “The Prime Minster says the economy is out of recession,” Luis said.

  “The left-wing weaklings don’t know what they’re talking about,” Pedro said to his younger brother.

  “Wow, we’re getting off track here,” Luna replied.

  “Not really,” Jaime said. “If austerity measures are announced, then things like bullfights will be slashed from budgets all over the country. We will be out of a job.”

  “And you expected Cayetano to wipe all these worries away by killing a few bulls yesterday afternoon?” Luna asked the whole group. “You think he doesn’t have enough pressure to deal with by having to support his whole extended family?”

  “That’s enough.” Cayetano could see the disdain in the eyes of his uncles when they looked at this newcomer, and a woman, no less.

  “Maybe we should take a walk or something,” Paco suggested to the others. Luna stood with her arms folded as the men left her apartment in silence. She didn’t move until she heard the door close down the hallway. “Caya, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he sighed and sat back in his seat on the couch. “Someone had to say it.”

  Luna wandered over and sat down on the floor in front of the despondent man. “I’m sorry you got a nasty review, sweetheart.”

  “Happens.” Cayetano shrugged, but it was easy to tell it hurt.

  “The guy who wrote this article is a cabrón, an asshole. They are attracted to people like you.”

  “Because I’m a cabrón?”

  “No, assholes aren’t attracted to other assholes. They aren’t rational; they’re attracted to successful people and then their insecurities pour out shit and hate.”

  “I guess if I’m slow and fat in the ring, I need to work on myself. I need to fitter next time.”

  “I didn’t hear any complaints yesterday. And you didn’t get any complaints from me last night.”

  “You were just generous to me in my old age.”

  “If being generous entails me having sex with you, then I’ll be generous all the time.”

  Cayetano cracked a smile. “At least someone still loves me.”

  “Don’t let the others bully you, Caya. You shouldn’t have to put your money into the business. It may be the family business, but it’s not yours to prop up while everyone else is struggling.”

  “But they’re my family.”

  “Yeah, and have you as their permanent cash machine. How often do you put your earnings into the business?”

  “All the time.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “I have Mamá and Papá, and Sofía, my grandparents, my three uncles, their wives, my eight cousins, and their spouses and children to support.”

  “No, you don’t! Is Rebelión sinking?”

  “Yes. I have suggested changes to the business, but no one listens.”

  “They reminisce about when times are good, and you’re paying the bills.”

  “Preciosa, it’s not your problem.”

  “Caya, do you have any money left at all?”

  Cayetano swallowed hard. “I do, a little.”

  “How little?”

  “Very little. I could sell my apartment if… if things go sour.”

  “Is there a risk of losing Rebelión in a financial collapse?”

  By now, Cayetano had tears in his eyes. “I’m trying so hard,” he replied, his tone thick with emotion.

  Luna sat up on her knees and held his hands. “Caya, it’s not your responsibility to care for everyone. Jesus, I had no idea things were so bad.”

  “Would you want to marry me if I lost everything?”

  “Oh, Caya.” Luna gathered him in her arms, and she held on tight, aware that a tear dropped from his cheek onto her shirt. “I’m no better,” she muttered. “Once the story of Fabrizio’s drug use be
comes public, I’m screwed, too.”

  “But you said it’s all a lie.”

  “I believe it to be a lie, but even if it’s just a rumour, I could find myself fired. Plus your family will hate me for attracting so much unwelcome attention.”

  “We should be on a high this morning. Last night everything seemed so perfect.”

  “Maybe the government won’t announce austerity measures and bullfights will be full all summer. Perhaps you can keep your earnings from this season for yourself, to give yourself a bit of security. Maybe Operación Porto will never get to court, and there will be no risk of Fabrizio being caught as a doper. Perhaps this supposed mistress of Fabrizio’s will shut her mouth. If not, we can just get married and cope. You can go bankrupt and come and live here with me. I own this apartment and Escondrijo, and I have plenty of savings in the bank. We can become farmers and hide away in the country. There are far worse fates than being broke.”

  “This is humiliating,” Cayetano sighed.

  “Does it hurt your Spanish masculinity to admit these things to me?” she teased.

  “Maybe.”

  “You know what we need to do, don’t you? The wedding needs to be cancelled.”

  “What? No!”

  “How much is this charade going to cost, €200,000? More? We can’t afford that. When your mother said they would pay for the wedding, I didn’t realise they got all their money from you. I felt ashamed enough that Inés and Paco offered to pay, and now I find out they have nothing and put their hands out to you.”

  “They’re my parents. Don’t ask me to cut them off financially.”

  “I wasn’t going to, but the wedding is unnecessary. We don’t need a large wedding.”

  “No, we carry on with the wedding. Everything is arranged. We will manage.”

  “At least Valencia loves you,” Luna commented and turned to the Levante newspaper on the coffee table. She opened it to Cayetano’s full-page glory. “See, the whole world isn’t against you.” As she read the article again, Cayetano leaned on her shoulders and sighed. He watched her flick through the paper and stop on another article. “Oh wow, another one of these stories,” she uttered.