“Put on your best suit and wait for Willie, okay, Julio?” Nazario said as we stood in front of the entrance. “And I still want to talk. Maybe even meet you in the library.” He shook my hand again and crossed the street. I stared at his back as he walked away. A tall gray suit, walking with pride and confidence all around El Barrio. A suit that could stand out and yet blend in with the neighborhood. He was like no one I had ever met. Even Bodega with his street smarts and cunning lacked what Nazario had. The presence that tells the people this man can lead. He was what we all wanted to be like, the Latin professional whom the Anglos feared because he was just as treacherous, just as devious, and he understood power. This was not some docile Latino you could push around. You knew he held aces up his sleeve. The neighborhood might not have trusted Nazario completely, maybe even been a bit afraid of him, but people were more than grateful that he was on their side. I went inside the building and was a bit nervous about the whole Vera-meeting-Bodega thing, but then again I was also glad it would finally be over.
