Chapter 44

A week after the small test for Picasso, I was cleaning an insistent brand of beer from one of the bar tables, while Solange was taking care of the money at the cashier.

She was murmuring a song that played on the battery radio on the counter, and it didn't seem at all concentrated on the notes in her hand.

Outside, a muffled noise was coming through the closed door of the bar, and the music was totally different from the one Solange heard, so she grumbled and increased the sound.

I had a low laugh, because the volume was echoing absurdly in the totally closed bar, and I never liked funk very much, but I allowed myself to recognize the lyrics.

It was a feminine and very sensual voice, in addition to the slightly metallic beat, which right in the chorus changed to a set of remixed melodies.

"What song is this? "I asked as I straightened up.

Solange opened a smile for me.

“Braba.

“I liked it.

"You don't look like someone who listen