Maria Luisa Fox was a dancer from Guadalajara - a line dancer and then a runway queen, and finally the lead dancer of the Rockettes at Rockefeller Center in New York. She was a prima donna, a woman who knew her own talents, intelligence, and allure, and thought the world was open to her.
Of course, New York is not Guadalajara, a town of serapes, tacos, and Montezuma's revenge, controlled now by the cartels who have the government, the Federales and local police in their pocket. Yet it is still a nice place, more American now than Mexican, what with so many retirees from El Norte settled there; but a place to come back to, to relax on the front porch, listen to rancheros, and watch Mama make enchiladas.
New York is a jungle, especially for an ambitious woman like Maria Luisa - a comer, a desirable commodity for sale like everything and everyone is in New York - and no matter how she tried, the right doors to Broadway remained closed. No matter to how many producers and directors to whom she sent her portfolio, she got no callbacks.
Maria Luisa's family was non-political, more of a que sera sera, cultura de la hamaca family. The cartels meant business and were everywhere. Not exactly like Stasi and Sevak, the notorious Secret Police of East Germany and Iran, but an endemic presence.
Maria Luisa had always been a favorite of Don Miguel Miranda, a high ranking member of the Jalisco cartel but a gentleman, courteous and accommodating in his interest of the young dancer. 'Anything you want, Maria Luisa, you know you can count on me'.
His favors were generous but modest - flowers, jewelry, an Easter bonnet, dinner at the Marriott for her entire family - but she knew that he was serious in his offers. What would she have to give in return? Better not to think about payment due, although there was not a drop of intimidation or veiled warning in his promises.
And so it was that she accepted his offer to travel with him to Acapulco for the weekend. Separate rooms, of course, but all expenses paid; and if she were so inclined, they might become more intimate.
The weekend was an idyll, the best accommodations, food, and drink. She was treated like a princess, and she had to admit that she was moved by his generosity and attention.
It was shortly after that trip to Acapulco that she returned to Guadalajara and asked to meet him in private. She was finding it difficult to get the break on Broadway she knew she deserved, and perhaps he had friends in New York who might be of help.
'Of course, mi amor', he said, and within a few weeks she was informed by the administrative assistant of owner of the Belasco Theatre that he would be pleased to make her acquaintance. Saul Feinberg, the producer of a musical now in pre-production would also be there.
Maria Luisa never asked Miguel what he had done to arrange this meeting, and knew that it was better to keep silent and be grateful. Whatever offer he had made was the right one, and she got the part which she wanted and was most suited for.
Sleeping one's way to the top is nothing new either on Broadway or in Hollywood. Any ambitious starlet or theatrical rising star understands the sexual dimensions of success; and in her case Maria Luisa not only got the part but was treated as a queen when she returned to Mexico. For her there was no question about the arrangement, and she repaid Miguel with sincere affection.
She became well-known in Mexican cartel circles - not quite a gun moll, but the consort of one of the most important figures in the drug underground. The couple was an event, seen at the best watering holes in the capital, on the beaches of Baja and Cancun, and everywhere where it paid to be seen.
The life was seductive, one of pure pleasure, respect, and admiration; and she found herself spending more time in Mexico than New York. After the run of the Broadway show in which she had an important role, she deferred other offers, and wondered whether life with Don Miguel was ultimately what she wanted - glamour, fame, wealth, and pleasure without the work.
There is no doubt that life on Southern plantations in the antebellum South was elegant, grand, and beautiful, very Cavalier and sophisticated. The two worlds - slavery and the cultured world of mansions, lawns, live oaks, and formal balls - could indeed co-exist and while there were grounds to criticize the former, there were still good reasons to champion the other.
The same was true of life within the Jalisco cartel. Yes it was a gangland menace, a drug-running threat to governance and civil order; but it was also the home of some of the most swell-to-do men and women in Mexico. It might not exactly be high European-style society, but it was certainly bourgeoise at its most opulent - a bit overdone and Baroque in places, but all in all as glamorous as anything anywhere.
'Dance for me', Don Miguel said to her one evening on the lawn of his palatial home overlooking the ocean, and dance she did with plies, twirls, staccato folk steps, and graceful swanlike bows. Don Miguel was entranced. How lucky he was to have found her.
The day she met the President of the Republic in the palace's private chambers was a day to remember. Maria Luisa knew that the cartels had influence at the highest levels, but she never knew how much. She and Miguel were treated like royalty, honored foreign dignitaries, respected guests. Little of any import transpired, but the President's warm welcome alone showed the level of respect accorded to Don Miguel.
She had become so used to the cartel life that she paid little attention to the news of internecine violence, collaboration with MS-13, Mara Salvatrucha, and the vendetta killings in three states. 'It's just business', said Mafia dons after waves of vengeful killings, and so it was with the cartels. Everyone has to make a living, and the demand for drugs in El Norte justified the supply and the necessary means to assure it.
The Broadway producers who were her sponsors had of course learned of her other life and were hesitant to place her in another show. If the press got onto this trail, God only knows where it would lead. So again Don Miguel asked for and arranged another visit to Broadway, Maria Luisa was chosen for an important part yet again, and doubts were quelled.
It all fell apart, however, when El Mencho the drug kingpin of all Mexico was killed by a combined force of federales and US agents. Mexico was in flames and the cartels were at each other's throats after blood. One of Miguel's closest associates was murdered in front of one of Mexico City's most exclusive clubs, and he told Maria Luisa that he would have to disappear for a while.
After a number of weeks went by, rumor had it that he too had been murdered, and that the idyll was over. She was indicted by a New York federal court, deported back to Mexico, and returned to Guadalajara to live with her mother.
She was smart enough to know that living such life would have its pitfalls, its up and downs, and perhaps even its minor disasters; but for a woman like her - ambitious not only in terms of career and social position, but for living itself - it was all worth it.
Cartels are not all that bad, all things considered.
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