The Barcelona Brothers by Carlos Zanón, John Cullen Read Free Book Online Page A

neighborhood’s free-flowing fantasies. He saw that Paki waste Tanveer, so why not proclaim it to the four winds? Why not begin with the most popular barbershop in the barrio?
    “Come on, a quick coffee, I’ve got things to do.”
    At this point the cell phone in the inside pocket of Alex’s overworked jacket begins to ring. It’s Epi. Alex stays outside while Allawi goes back into the bar. There’s a man in there who calls himself “Professor Malick, Master Keta,” whatever that may mean. He’s a black man, sitting at the end of the bar, near the corridor leading to the kitchen and the restrooms. A kid he says is his nephew hands out flyers offering the Professor’s services to the customers. Alex, who enters the place in a vile temper, also receives one of these announcements. He doesn’t even read it. He knows the green-and-yellow photocopies all too well. The charlatan’s marketing department has inundated the barrio with the miraculous catalog of his powers: solutions for all the problems in your life. He can convoke the swiftest spirits in existence and resolve any romantic difficulty radically and immediately. The Professor receives from eight in the morning until ten at night. In point of fact, ProfessorMalick, Master Keta, hardly ever rests. Results within a maximum of three days, one hundred percent guaranteed. Problems related to marriage, work, and business; illnesses of unknown origin; love problems; how to get your mate back, how to attract people you’re fond of, how to break spells; problems of sexual impotency; legal problems; how to be generally and euphorically lucky in life. Professor Malick resolves all, thanks to his innate, supernatural power. In addition, he speaks to Jesus and Mohammed. To the dead and the absent. It goes without saying that his work is serious and guaranteed.
    Alex locates the barber and sits across from him at an isolated table, which he notices is damp.
    “Not a very long conversation.”
    “We got cut off. Out of range, I guess.”
    “Who was it?”
    “What’s it to you? It was my brother.”
    “He called you on that Nokia I got him? He doesn’t have any idea how it works yet, that’s for sure.”
    “For sure.”
    Alex puts the phone on the table, hoping that Epi will call him again, right away. The black faith healer has begun to speak. The waiter listens to him spellbound, but with a mocking smile on his face. To avoid wasting time, Alex decides to go to the bar and order his own drink.
    “… and the person you call Jesus wasn’t the Christ, he was a man, one who was inhabited by God for the time that He was within him. A spiritual power capable of changing shape and moving at the speed of a ray of light. So therefore, mendidn’t crucify Christ, they crucified Jesus, and maybe not even Jesus, but someone else. The writings say—”
    “A coffee and cognac.”
    “Coming up.”
    “—that Jesus Christ transformed into Simon of Cyrene after Simon offered to help him carry the cross. They say that once the cross was carried to the top of the hill, Jesus went over to another hill near Golgotha and laughed as he watched the Romans and Jews, his dupes, crucifying Simon inside Jesus’ body …”
    “I guess Simon was the one who didn’t think it was all that funny,” says the deliveryman, who’s waiting for the pink copy of the invoice to be signed so he can continue his route.
    His remark catches on like a flame throughout the bar, and the resulting merriment is so general that even Professor Malick recognizes the prudence of changing the mask of his face into a smile filled with white, gleaming teeth. He accepts that his discourse has been overwhelmed, at least for the next few minutes.
    “It’s true that the good Simon did the wrong person a favor …”
    “Hey, butane man!” shouts another of the regular customers, a noted jokester. He addresses a group of Pakistani gas-bottle deliverymen, who are having breakfast under their turbans.