Santa Olivia

It was good—better than good. After a year and more of honing her body into a fighting weapon, Loup relearned it as an instrument of pleasure, giving and receiving alike.



A lot.



It affected her training. For the first month, Loup walked around in a state of erotic stupor. She moved automatically through her private regimen, maintaining her mindless discipline. In the ring, she sparred mechanically against Miguel, deflecting his blows without effort, finding no trouble going on a slow-motion offense, careful not to hurt him.



“Good,” Floyd said. “Good.”



“It’s not good!” Miguel spat out his mouth guard and glared at Loup. “You’re not trying. You’re not pushing yourself. You think I can’t tell? I can feel it. I know you, kid. I know you better than you think.”



“She’s doing well, son,” the coach said.



Miguel shook his head. “Not well enough.” He studied her. “You don’t want it the way you did.”



“I do!” Loup protested.



“Prove it.”



She tried, but it was hard. Miguel couldn’t push her as hard as she needed to push herself. They sparred. He got better; she stayed the same. Still, she tried.



After the initial revelation, most of the Santitos accepted their relationship with mild bemusement, surprised, more than anything, that Pilar had committed to it so wholeheartedly. She still flirted with her patrons at the bar, but she stopped accepting dates. On every evening but Wednesday, Loup fell into the habit of going to pick up Pilar when her day shift ended to walk her home.



The bar was a rustic little place called the Gin Blossom, mostly frequented by members of Rosa Salamanca’s crew. Loup liked to enter unnoticed and watch Pilar serve drinks and flirt, wearing her bartending outfit of low-slung jeans and a man’s white shirt knotted around her midriff and unbuttoned low. Pilar always looked cheerful at work, but when she saw Loup, her hazel eyes would brighten, and she’d greet her with a “Hey, baby!” that made Loup’s heart do a flip-flop.



Pilar’s bevy of casual suitors figured it out the first time she followed up her greeting with a kiss, leaning across the bar to grab Loup by the back of the neck and plant one on her lips. A collective groan went around the bar. But they liked Pilar too much to give her a hard time, and Outposters remembered that Loup was Tom Garron’s little sister.



“I didn’t think you’d be that open about it,” Loup said frankly when they walked home that evening. “Us, I mean.”



“Yeah, me neither.” Pilar squeezed her hand. “But I meant what I said that day, Loup.” She stopped and gave her a serious look. “I don’t want you to go through with it. I don’t want to lose you.”



“I know,” Loup murmured. Over Pilar’s shoulder, she could see a faded petition to Santa Olivia on the wall of a bodega, words bleeding through the whitewash. Outpost hadn’t quite forgotten Santa Olivia.



“Yeah, well, I figure I can’t ask you to give up something like that if I’m not even willing to be honest about us.” She shrugged. “You were right. There was a part of me that was just scared of what people would think. Turns out it’s not that bad.”



“I’m glad.”



Pilar searched her face. “Are you thinking about it?”



“I don’t know. I’m having a hard time thinking about anything but you.”



“It’s a start.” Pilar smiled. “Let me give you more to think about.” She kissed her again, there on the sidewalk, one of those deep, ardent kisses that made Loup’s head spin. Pilar Ecchevarria was a very, very good kisser. A jeep full of soldiers came alongside them and slowed, cheering and honking their horn. This time, Pilar ignored them and just kept kissing her. Something struck the sidewalk near their feet.



“Cigarettes.” Loup glanced down in wonderment when Pilar released her. “They threw a pack of cigarettes at us.”



“I’d of rather had money.” Pilar picked it up. “Thanks, guys!”



They honked and hollered, then sped onward.



Loup shook her head.



“Fringe benefits,” Pilar said. “Who knew? Bet we could make a lot of money putting on a sex show, you and me. Dolores Salamanca’s got a place. We’d be the hottest thing on the ticket.” She laughed at Loup’s expression. “I’m kidding! C’mon, walk me home, Cute and Deadly. I gotta get you alone someplace, fast.”



It wasn’t all good.



Their relationship created a measure of distance between Loup and Mack. He was a true friend and genuinely glad for her, but she knew it hurt him somewhere deep inside to see her find so effortlessly with Pilar what he’d tried so hard and wanted so badly to give her.



And then there was T.Y.



T.Y. was jealous. Deeply, morbidly jealous. He continued to help Loup train, but he did it with a profound and annoying sullenness.



“Why are you so pissed?” Loup asked him when she figured it out. “Jesus, T.Y.! You weren’t jealous when I was with Mack.”



He spotted her through a set of fifteen reps. “Because he’s Mack.”



She eased the barbell into the cradle. “What’s wrong with Pilar?”



“You don’t get it.” T.Y. shook his head. “It’s a guy thing.”



“So it’s because Pilar’s a girl?”



“No. I dunno. Not exactly.” He fiddled with the barbell, adding weights for her next set. “Remember when you came here? I was the first person to make friends with you. I was the first person you told your secret.”



“Yeah, I know.” Loup’s voice softened. “You thought I was a superhero.”



“Yeah.” T.Y. gave a faint smile, head averted. “I thought it was some kind of sign. You had superpowers, and I was the miracle baby.”



“The bomb baby,” she said, remembering.



“Yeah.” He looked up. “When we were kids, I thought we were meant to be together. When it didn’t work out…” He shrugged. “Mack, I could deal with. He’s cool. He’s Mack the Knife. You don’t get jealous of Mack the Knife. But… shit, Loup! You really are special. Don’t get me wrong, I like Pilar okay, but you’re not supposed to end up with a lazy, gold-digging waitress. And yeah, it pisses me off and makes me jealous.”



“She’s a bartender.”



“You know what I mean.”



“She’s good at it, too.”



“That’s not the point!” T.Y. yelled.



“Yeah, I know.” Loup sat upright, rubbed her brow with one forearm. “Look, we’ve all done KP duty with Pilar; everyone knows she’s got a lazy streak. Not when it’s something she likes. She likes tending bar. She likes to flirt. I’m the last thing in the world she wanted to want. And aside from everything else, I’m not exactly gold-digger material, you know? This isn’t easy for her, but she’s doing it anyway.”



“For now,” T.Y. muttered.



“I don’t have a whole lot of time, T.Y. And this is nice. It’s the first truly nice thing in my life since… ever, I guess. I might be different, but I still feel a lot of the same things normal people do. I get lonely. I like being liked. I like being wanted. I like the way I feel when Pilar smiles at me. I like that I make her feel the same way. So if you can’t be happy for me, can you please just get over it?”



“Are you trying to make me feel like shit?”



“No.”



He heaved a sigh. “Okay, okay. I’ll try.”



Afterward, it was better. T.Y. made an effort not to sulk. Loup kept trying to push herself.



And trying not to think about Pilar’s request.



Pilar didn’t press her. She had good instincts. But it was there. It was there in her touch, there in the serious look she got sometimes.



I don’t want to lose you.



In the end, it was Miguel who got her to talk about it. He invited her up to the coach’s rooftop garden after one of their Wednesday-night sessions, savoring a scotch and a cigar while Loup drank a bottle of water.



“So.” Miguel puffed. “You know, if you take away the soldiers, this is a damn small town, kid. Not a lot to talk about. People get bored. Sooner or later, everything gets around.”



“Yeah, so?”



“So I think I know what’s got you so distracted.” He held out one hand. “If memory serves, she stands about so tall and has a nice rack. What’s her name?”



Loup sighed. “Pilar.”



“Pilar.” Miguel nodded. “Right. Sam Ecchevarria’s kid. I remember when her father passed some seven, eight years ago. Loup, you can’t fool me. Coach thinks you’re doing okay, but he’s not in the ring mixing it up with you. He’s usually right, but it’s different with you. I can feel things he can’t see. So is that it? You start diddling the hot babe and suddenly your heart’s not in the game?”



“Sort of.”



“Sort of or yes?”



“Sort of,” Loup repeated. “Pilar doesn’t want me to do it. She doesn’t want to lose me. Most of me does want to. It’s the only thing in my life that makes sense. But when I started, I didn’t have anything to lose. Now I do.”



“Yeah, I get that.” Miguel eyed her. “From the dopey look you’ve been wearing for the past month or so, I’m guessing she’s been sexing you up real good. And I’m guessing that’s kind of a new thing for you, huh?”



Loup smiled. “Yeah.”



“Cut yourself some slack. You’re a kid. A freaky-ass kid, but a kid. You’ve got a bad case of puppy love and all kinds of crazy hormones running around inside you.” He sipped his scotch and smacked his lips. “Doesn’t mean it’s gonna last. But right now’s not a good time to make big decisions. Look, you’re a year, year and a half away from being ready. You decide to back out then, fine. No one’s gonna hold you to it. Even I’m not that big of an asshole.”