"We're having breakfast, boys, would you like some coffee?" said Quim.

We followed him into the kitchen. There, sitting at the table, were Angélica, María-and Lupe! Pancho didn't even blink when he saw her, but I almost jumped out of my skin.

It's hard to remember what happened next, especially because María greeted me as if we'd never fought, as if we could pick things up again from where we'd left off. All I know is that I said hello to Angélica and Lupe in a friendly way and that María gave me a kiss on the cheek. Then we had coffee and Pancho asked what was going on. The explanations were various and heated and in the middle of it all Mrs. Font and Quim started to fight. According to Mrs. Font, this was the worst New Year's holiday she'd ever had. Think about the poor, Cristina, replied Quim. Mrs. Font started to cry and left the kitchen. Angélica went out after her, which prompted Pancho to make a move, though it came to nothing: he got up from his chair, followed Angélica to the door, and then sat down again. Meanwhile Quim and María, between the two of them, brought me up to date. Lupe's pimp had found her at the Media Luna. After a scuffle, the particulars of which I didn't understand, she and Quim had managed to escape from the hotel and make it to Calle Colima. This had been a few days ago. When Mrs. Font found out what was going on, she called the police, and it wasn't long before a couple of officers showed up in a patrol car. They said that if the Fonts wanted to make a formal complaint they would have to go to the station. When Quim told them that Alberto and the other guy were there, in front of the house, the officers went to talk to the pimp, and from the gate Jorgito could tell that they seemed more like old friends than anything else. Either the guy with Alberto was also a policeman, according to Lupe, or the police had been given a handout big enough to make them look the other way. That was when the siege of the Fonts' house formally began. The officers left. Mrs. Font called the police again. Different officers came, with the same result. A friend of Quim's, who talked to Quim on the phone, recommended that they wait out the siege as best they could until the holidays were over. Sometimes, according to Jorgito, who was the only one with the guts to spy on the intruders, another car would come, an Oldsmobile that parked behind the Camaro, and Alberto and his companion, after talking to the new besiegers for a while, would drive off noisily, even threateningly, making the car tires squeal and honking the horn. Six hours later they were back and the car that had replaced them would leave. There was no question that these comings and goings were wearing down the house's inhabitants. Mrs. Font refused to go out for fear that she'd be kidnapped. Quim, faced with these new developments, wouldn't go out either. He said it was out of responsibility to his family, although I think it was really out of fear that he would be beaten up. Only Angélica and María had crossed the threshold, once and separately, and the outcome was ugly. Angélica was heckled and María, who walked boldly right past the Camaro, was groped and knocked around. By the time we got there, the only person who dared to answer the door was Jorgito.

Once we'd been informed of the situation, Pancho's reaction was immediate.

He was going to go and beat the shit out of Alberto.

Quim and I tried to dissuade him, but there was nothing to be done. So after speaking to Angélica in private for a quarter of an hour, Pancho headed outside.

"Come with me, García Madero," he said, and like an idiot I followed him.

As we walked out, Pancho's determination to do battle cooled by several degrees. We opened the gate with the keys Jorgito had given us. Turning around to look back at the house, I thought I saw Quim watching us from the living room window and Mrs. Font from a second-floor window. This bites, said Pancho. I didn't know what to answer. Who asked him to open his mouth in the first place?

"It's all over for me with Angélica," said Pancho as he tried the keys one by one, unsuccessfully.

There were three people in the Camaro, not two as it had seemed before. Pancho strode right up to them and asked them what they wanted. I lingered several feet behind, the figure of the pimp hidden from me behind Pancho. I couldn't see him and he couldn't see me. But I heard his voice, resonant as a ranchera singer's, arrogant but not entirely unpleasant, nothing like what I would've expected, betraying not a hint of hesitation. The contrast with Pancho's voice was cruel. Pancho had begun to stutter and talk too fast, slipping too quickly toward insult and aggression.

At that moment, for the first time since everything that had happened that morning, I realized that these were dangerous people and I wanted to tell Pancho that we should turn around and go back into the house. But Pancho was already challenging Alberto.

"Get out of the car, man," he said.

Alberto laughed. He made a remark I didn't hear. The passenger-side door opened and it was the other guy who got out of the car. He was of average height, very dark, on the fat side.

"Get out of here, kid." It took me a minute to realize he was talking to me.

Then I saw that Pancho had taken a step back and Alberto was getting out of the car. What came next happened too fast. Alberto stepped up to Pancho (it looked like he was giving him a kiss) and Pancho collapsed.

"Leave him there, kid," said the dark guy from the other side, leaning on the roof of the car. I ignored him. I pulled Pancho up and we went back to the house. When we got to the door I turned around to look. The two of them were back in the yellow Camaro and it looked to me like they were laughing.

"You got it good, huh," said Jorgito, popping out of the bushes.

"The bastard had a gun," said Pancho. "If I'd fought back he would've shot me."

"That's what I thought," said Jorgito.

I hadn't seen any gun, but I kept quiet.

Together, Jorgito and I helped Pancho toward the house. When we were on the flagstone path leading to the porch, Pancho said no, that he wanted to go to María and Angélica's little house, so we went around through the garden. The rest of the day was mostly miserable.

Pancho shut himself up with Angélica in the little house. The maid came late and started cleaning, getting in everyone's way. Jorgito wanted to go visit some friends but his parents wouldn't let him. María, Lupe, and I played cards in the corner of the garden where María and I had first talked. For a moment I had the impression that we were repeating the motions from when we'd first met, when Pancho and Angélica would shut themselves in the little house and order us out, but now everything was different.

At lunchtime, at the kitchen table, Mrs. Font said she wanted a divorce. Quim laughed and shrugged as if to say that his wife had gone crazy. Pancho started to cry.

Then Jorgito turned on the television and he and Angélica sat down to watch a documentary on spiders. Mrs. Font served coffee to those of us who were still in the kitchen. Before the maid left, she announced that she wouldn't be coming the next day. Quim talked to her for a few seconds in the courtyard and gave her an envelope. María asked whether it was a plea for help. Please, sweetheart, said Quim, the phone line hasn't been cut yet. It was her end-of-year bonus.

I'm not sure exactly when Pancho left the house. I'm not sure exactly when I decided that I would spend the night there. All I know is that after dinner Quim took me aside and thanked me for the gesture.

"I expected no less of you, García Madero," he said.

"I'm at your service," I answered stupidly.

"Now let's forget all the silly stuff there's been between the two of us and concentrate on the defense of the castle," he said.