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Kyna and the young woman spoke with their heads close together for a few moments, and then the woman made a sign with her hand for Kyna to wait and vanished through a beaded curtain at the back. Kyna turned and gave Cyrus a tired smile to assure him that everything was all right. The woman returned in a few minutes with a tall black man. Next to the woman's beauty, the man appeared incredibly ugly. He had a long equine face, flaring nostrils and cheekbones so sharp that they threatened to puncture the skin of his face. He was dressed all in whitewhite knit shirt, white tennis shorts, white sneakersand he spoke with a heavy British accent. After shaking hands, Kyna motioned for Cyrus to follow, then preceded the man through the curtain into the back room. The woman smiled and nodded to Cyrus as she held the curtain open. |
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The back room had been converted into a combination workshop and kitchen. A grinding machine, lathe and several vises were mounted on a bench against the left wall, and a small icebox, a microwave and a hot plate sat atop a shelf attached to the opposite wall. |
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Kyna followed the man into a small glass-enclosed office at the very back of the room. The man glanced at Cyrus through the glass, then pointed Kyna to a seat in front of a wooden schoolteacher's desk. |
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Cyrus looked around for a place to sit. The only chairs were a pair of antique wire soda-fountain chairs next to a small round dining table in the center of the room. One chair was occupied by an old black man eating a bowl of couscous with a tin spoon and sipping from a bottle of Mexican beer. |
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"May I?" Cyrus asked, indicating the vacant chair. |
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The old man looked up. His eyes were vacantdazed. The sclera was the color of old ivory with pupils the size of black marbles. On top, his hair was as thin and white as new cheesecloth, and above his lips was a silky-white moustache now caked with dried broth. Underneath the aroma of steamed vegetables, Cyrus detected the unmistakable odor of hemp. |
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"Of course," the old man replied. |
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