the smuggler’s bible


A bell dings to signal the final hour of the San Rogelio County All-Night Community Dance-Off. Adelaide reaches into her pocket and draws out a switchblade knife. Her partner is Remy, a suicide blonde who has been rotating through a subtle mambo to conserve energy. Her lip quivers when the steel jumps from Adelaide’s palm.

“I thought we were going to win it honest.”

Adelaide winks and pirouettes as someone whips a chain toward them, lashing the floor.

“At the heart of every dance is either sex or war, baby,” she says, hips swaying. “And anyway, the judge is asleep.”