Long Live El Rey

Real-life reactions are equally vehement. Audience members of both genders constantly fling themselves at José as if he were Morrissey and they were Mexican. It's not staged. "When I first started playing, it was friends who knew I was going to play, and they got close and involved," he recalls. "But other people I did not know came up. If they look good dancing and they are safe, we let them dance. But I don't make those decisions."

His bodyguards do. The pure brawn of the security operation is El Cunaguaro — named for "a little cat, like a puma, from the rain forest," José explains. Although the guard appears in videos, he's elusive. These days José's right-hand man is usually El Tigre, who appears suddenly at Mary's, about 45 minutes into the conversation. At first he says nothing, standing by the curb, surveying the scene, and clutching an earpiece to his head. Taller and paler than José, he sports similar shades, an equally creepy but thinner mustache, and closer-cropped hair. His look — neatly tucked gray work shirt over a wifebeater — is a cross between FBI agent and janitor. He speaks with a heavy Miami Cuban accent. And El Tigre never cracks a smile — security is serious business.

They claim to have met at Flagler Dog Track — before José conquered his gambling problem. There was no turning back. "He was always El Tigre," José says.

"Sometimes my love has been compared to the adrenal gland of a tiger," El Tigre mumbles nearly inaudibly.

"He saw a show [of mine] last October, and then for the next one, he sent me a text message saying he was on his way, and that was it," José recalls. "He was ready."

Besides doing his own version of a Miami bump and grind to the beat, El Tigre's main job is standing onstage and pushing back José's admirers. "People have taken his clothes," El Tigre says. "One very big time, many girls at one time try to grab him, and it got to be crazy, and I was choking.... And more choking, and then after that it got to pushing."

Things get especially hairy when, at every show, José hands out refreshments — drinks such as Materva and Ironbeer, or perhaps snacks like bocaditos or pastelitos.

"People get a little crazy when they want a certain type of pastelito and there is only limited availability," El Tigre says.

"Coconut, for example. I was only able to get two last time," José says. "In fact I'm going to get one right now."

Soon he returns with the pastry glistening on a paper napkin, and talks about his future plans. Along with El Tigre, he'll join DJ Papa Dios (formerly known as Cookieheadz) and local breakcore freak Otto Von Schirach for a side project called Miami Bass Warriors. They'll debut their first single at the Calle Ocho festival in March. No joke.

"I might get stabbed," José says, tiny flakes of crust sticking to his stubble. "Or I might become the king of Calle Ocho. I mean, I already am, because of my name."

A José El Rey show is about the things José cherishes most: music, dancing, poetic justice, and the ladies. All will be in full effect Saturday during his appearance at Poplife. Come for good times. And if you get offended by his sex, remember: He is the player, and we are just the game.