America Libre by Raul Ramos y Sanchez Page B

riot gear. Their slumping postures
     worried Mano. He knew exhausted men had short fuses.
    Near the east stairway to the podium, where Jo had arranged to meet him, Mano saw a posh group of people who looked like dignitaries.
     Suddenly, a woman among them waved to him.
    “Mano… over here,” she said. It was Jo.
    She wore an elegant blue dress, her golden hair styled in an upward sweep that showcased a gleaming pearl necklace and matching
     earrings. Ramon, standing beside her, was also transformed, his denim and fatigues replaced by a tweed sports coat and maroon
     tie, which gave his graying ponytail a look of scholarly sophistication.
    Mano was suddenly embarrassed. He’d worn a freshly pressed dress shirt and slacks, the outfit he’d used for his many job interviews.
     But compared to those in this crowd of dignitaries, he felt coarse and out of place.
    As if reading Mano’s mind, Ramon produced a handful of silk neckties from his briefcase. “I haven’t got a coat that would
     even come close to fitting you, Mano, but I did bring along a few ties. Maybe you’ll find one you like.”
    Mano ran his calloused fingers hesitantly over the sleek fabric, not sure if he remembered how to tie a knot. The last time
     he’d worn a tie was for his Army portrait.
    “Here… this gray one goes well with your blue shirt,” Jo said, looping the tie around his neck. Mano stood frozen as she wove
     the tie into a knot. “I always loved doing this for my father,” she said, smoothing the tie down after she’d finished, lightly
     caressing Mano’s muscular chest. The trail of her fingers left an electric tingle on Mano’s skin. Against his will, he looked
     into Jo’s eyes. She met his gaze steadily. “How does that feel?”
    Mano cleared his throat. “Fine. Thank you.”
    “Good. Let’s meet the other speakers.”
    “Other speakers? Are you speaking today, Jo?”
    “No, Mano,” Ramon answered. “I am.”
    Mano’s eyes widened. Clearly, Ramon Garcia was more than a clerk in a bookstore. He should have noticed that before.
    “I see you’re surprised,” Ramon said, smiling.
    “Yes,” Mano admitted as an angry chant erupted from the crowd. He nodded toward the Anglo contingent making most of the noise.
     “What wouldn’t surprise me is if there’s trouble here today. Do you have a plan in case things get out of hand?”
    Jo gave Ramon a knowing look before answering. “Do you have any ideas, Mano?” she asked.
    “If trouble breaks out, it’s likely to start around the people with the signs over there,” he said, pointing toward the Anglos.
     “The police will probably chase them along the front of the grandstand. Our best bet would be to leave toward the north, behind
     the stage. That way, we’ll avoid the police—they look tired, and tired cops are likely to start beating anyone who isn’t wearing
     a badge.”
    “That sounds like a good escape plan,” Ramon replied. “But we need to find a way to avoid any violence today. Politically,
     it would be best if this rally remains peaceful.”
    “In other words,” Jo added, “we need to demonstrate that we can control our people when we want to.”
    “
When you want to?
” Mano repeated. “Are you saying there are times when you
want
people to riot?”
    “Mano, do you think all these people and the media would be here today if there hadn’t been violence in the past?” Jo asked.
    “No,” Mano admitted. “But that still doesn’t make it right.”
    “You’re a rare person, Mano,” Jo said, smiling. “That’s why I think you can help our people. Your ethics and discipline can
     help create justicia,” she said. “Maybe you’ll find the answers to some of your concerns after you’ve heard the speakers today.
     Right now, though, we need to sit down.” She took Mano’s beefy hand and led him up the grandstand steps.
    Appeased, Mano followed quietly as Jo guided him to a row of folding chairs beside the podium. Looking down at the