The room went cold. Marquez's hand moved to his jacket.
The sun over the Mexican state of Jalisco was a white-hot bullet. In the dusty plaza of Santa Cecilia, a blind man tuned a guitar that wasn't there. Tourists threw coins into his empty case, mistaking him for a beggar. He was neither. He was a ghost waiting for a war. Erase una Vez en Mexico
The Mariachi set down his instrument. He reached out and touched the boy's face, feeling the shape of his determination. The room went cold
Barrillo's smile vanished. "Many women, musician." Erase una Vez en Mexico
"She was the one you shot in the plaza. You said she was a mistake."