36: A Novel (6 page)

I wanted to come off the couch and beat these two guys to death.  Part of me thought I was fast enough to pull it off.  The thought must have shown on my face as the quiet one suddenly drew his weapon and held it in front of him in both hands.  It wasn’t pointed directly at me, but he could have it on target and fire before my bare ass made it off the couch.

7

Nogales, Mexico reminded me of Iraq.  Too much so.  No one spoke the same language I did, and everyone looked at me with distrust in their eyes.  That didn’t bother me.  What did were the openly hostile looks I was receiving as I made my way through a dust choked neighborhood. 

Several times, young men who were sitting in the shade stood up and flashed guns.  Challenging the gringo.  Daring me.  I studiously avoided making eye contact with them, keeping my gaze on the dirt road I was walking on.

The pair of cops had given me two grand in cash before they left my apartment.  That, and a slip of paper with a hand written phone number.  I was supposed to go to Nogales and talk to my estranged brother.  Convince him that he had no choice other than tell me where the drugs were.  And promise him I’d be back to get him out.

They had been gone for less than five minutes and I was still sitting on the couch thinking when there was a knock.  Expecting they had come back for some reason, I didn’t bother making any attempt to cover my nudity before answering the door. 

I was surprised to see Monica Torres standing there, as beautiful as ever in a lightweight sundress.  She looked me up and down and smiled.

“Expecting me?”  She asked playfully in thickly accented English.

Stepping across the threshold, she kissed me lightly on the lips and gently raked her long, red nails across my bare upper thigh.  I tingled from head to toe, little Bob instantly responding to her presence.  She came to an abrupt stop when she spotted the pistol and shotgun on the floor where the cops had left them.  I closed the door, shot both the dead bolts home and moved behind her to circle my arms around her narrow waist.

“What is going on, Roberto?” 

From the moment we met, she had insisted on using the Latin version of my name.  I’m not sure she was even capable of uttering “Bob”.

I thought about lying to her.  I didn’t owe her any explanations.  We were nothing more than what pop culture labeled as friends with benefits.  A couple of times a week we got together and satisfied each others’ needs.  That was it.  But if that was it, why did I feel better when she was around?

“It’s about my little brother.”

I pulled her tight against me.  Automatically she pressed her ass back against my growing erection, then paused and pushed away from me.

“What’s wrong?”  She asked, dark eyes full of concern.

I don’t know for sure, but I think it was that exact moment when I fell in love with her.  She was a good woman, and that had always been part of what attracted me to her.  But the obvious concern for me, as well as someone she had never even known existed… well, it kind of melted my heart and pushed me over the edge.  So I told her everything.

  “Do you trust them?”  She asked when I finished speaking.

By this time, we were both on the couch.  Drinking the last of my beer.  I was seated at an end and she was turned sideways.  Her sandals were on the floor and her feet were in my lap, legs stretched the length of the small sofa.

“Not as far as I can throw them,” I said, draining the bottle in my hand and leaning down to place it on the floor.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t have a choice,” I said, absently rubbing her smooth calves with one hand.

“We always have choices, Roberto.  They may not be the choices we want, but they are there.”

She turned one of her feet sideways and wiggled her toes against my limp cock.  Explaining my problems had killed my desire.

“Then I guess the answer is that I’m going to Nogales.  I’ll get my brother to tell me where he hid the drugs, and I’ll bring them across.”

“You do not really believe they will give you money for your brother’s release, do you?”

“No,” I said.  “But my parents have money.  I’ll talk to them when I get back.  If I don’t do this, Tim won’t survive long enough to get sprung.  They’ll have him killed.”

Monica looked at me for almost a minute, then drained her beer and put the bottle on the floor next to her sandals.

“Then here is what we do,” she said.

“We?”

“Si.  We.  You need my help whether you know it or not.  Manny is sleeping over at a friend’s house tonight.  I am going to stay here with you, and we are going to take my car and leave for Nogales in the morning.  It is a four-hour drive, so we should go early tomorrow morning.”

“No!  Absolutely not!  You are not coming with me.  Way too dangerous!” 

I had spoken loudly and saw her eyes immediately flash with anger.  That was the other thing about her.  As beautiful, smart and good hearted as she was, she also had a classic Latin temper.  She was not someone you ever wanted to try and tell what to do.  Or not do.  She jerked her feet out of my lap and curled them under her hips to sit forward and get in my face.

“You are a big, dumb gringo,” she said, the tone in her voice warning me to keep my mouth shut.  “I’m not going into Mexico with you.  I have a child to think about, and no matter what I feel for you I’m not going to do something stupid and risk being taken away from him.

“But I can drive you to the border.  And after you come back and deliver the drugs, you’re going to need a ride home.  How were you going to get there?  Greyhound?”

She was right.  The money the two cops had given me was enough to buy a crappy used car that would probably make the trip.  Renting one wasn’t an option as I didn’t have a credit card.  But if I did that, I wouldn’t be able to pay the “fee” that would be required by the guards to let me see my brother.  It would be much better if I didn’t have to worry about transportation.

“Thank you,” I said in a slightly meek voice.

“De nada,” Monica replied, smiling once again.

“So, what exactly are those feelings for me you mentioned?”  I asked, poking her a little but also hoping to hear that I was more to her than a booty call.

“Plenty of time to talk about that when you get back.”

She smiled and reached behind her, pulling the sundress off over her head.  She was completely nude underneath.  Leaning forward she grasped me firmly in her hand and pressed her face against mine.

“First things first, mi amor,” she breathed.

I lost track of time after that.  We didn’t come up for air for what seemed like hours, and when I checked my watch I wasn’t surprised that it had been.  It was nearly midnight.  We had started in the living room, made a stop in the shower to rinse off our sweaty bodies, then had picked right back up in the bedroom. 

“What time is it?”  Monica asked.

I looked over at her.  She was stretched out on the far side of my small bed, dark hair fanned across a pillow.  Filtered light from a security lamp outside my bedroom window played off her bare skin, making it seem iridescent.  Looking at her like that, I realized I could be happy lying next to her every night.

“Almost midnight.”

I put my watch on the wobbly bedside table and stretched out next to her.  She rolled up slightly and threw her leg across mine, resting her hand on my stomach. 

“Sleep now,” she said dreamily, already drifting off.  “We have to leave in a few hours.”

The alarm on my watch woke us at 3:45.  I was groggy and thick headed from too little sleep and a marathon session of love making.  Monica sprang out of bed as if she’d just had a solid eight hours of rest.  It took her less than ten minutes to wash, brush her teeth and hair and slip the dress back on. 

She sang something in Spanish while she got ready, low and soft.  It was the first time I had heard her sing, and for a minute I stood in awe, just listening to her.  Her voice was beautiful.  She saw me watching her in the bathroom mirror and gave me a smile that whisked away all the cobwebs in my brain.

By four, we were in her car and pulling out of the apartment complex’s parking lot.  We stopped for gas at a small station just down the street.  The night clerk was secure behind a thick sheet of bullet proof glass and I pushed cash through a sliding metal drawer, paying before pumping.  Collecting my change, we hit the road.

We made one quick stop in Tucson to top off the tank and get coffee.  The time passed quickly.  We talked the whole way, each of us learning things about the other that had never come up between the sheets.  The more I learned, the more I liked this strong, beautiful woman.

It took us slightly more than four hours to reach Nogales.  Monica stopped in a small parking lot a hundred yards from the border crossing.  I reached down between my feet and picked up the small duffel I’d brought along.  Passing it over, I took her hand and looked into her eyes.

“There’s a pistol and shotgun in the bag, and a thousand dollars in cash,” I said.  “The shotgun is illegal, so don’t get caught with it.  If you do, play dumb and blame it on me.”

“Where are you coming back across?”

“There’s a canyon about twenty miles to the east that cuts across the border.  It’s in the middle of nowhere.  I used to go hunting in the area.  No roads.  Probably there.  I’ll call you when I’m back, maybe sooner if this shitty phone works in Mexico.  What are you going to do while you’re waiting?”

“Going to check into a motel so I don’t get noticed just hanging around.  Be careful, and come back to me.”

Monica wrapped her arms around my neck and held me tight as our lips met.  The kiss lasted a long time, and definitely wasn’t the kind of kiss you share with someone who was just your fuck buddy.  Heart lightened at the thoughts of things to come with her, I stepped out of the car and headed for the line queued up to get into Mexico.

8

It wasn’t visiting hours at the prison, but that didn’t deter me.  Five, crisp twenty dollar bills disappeared into the guard sergeant’s pudgy hand so deftly it was as if they’d never existed.  He barked some orders in Spanish, and after a thorough search I was escorted to a small room with a couple of tables and chairs.

The furniture in the visiting room was bolted to the raw concrete floor.  I took a seat and looked around when the iron door I’d come through banged closed behind me.  On the opposite wall was another, identical door.  A window, without any glass, looked out onto a courtyard that was mostly dirt with a few struggling weeds.  It was covered with heavy, iron bars set into the wall’s masonry, and provided the only illumination in the room.

Overhead, a squeaking ceiling fan turned lazily, stirring the hot, dusty air.  Movement caught my eye and I looked at the window in time to see a rat poke its whiskered nose through the bars and test the air.  It was the biggest fucking rat I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen some big ones hanging around the open sewers in parts of Iraq.

 Nearly an hour later, the door to my front clanged open and a heavily mustachioed guard poked his head in and looked around.  There was nothing to see other than me and the rat, which was nosing along the far wall.  He withdrew, and a moment later my little brother was roughly shoved into the room. 

“Cinco,” the guard shouted, staring at me.

I nodded that I understood I had only bought five minutes of time with Tim.  A hundred bucks doesn’t go as far as it used to.

I stood as Tim walked over.  He looked like hell.  No, hell would have looked better than he did.  He had been beaten.  That much was obvious.  Two black eyes.  A nose so swollen it had to have been broken and not set.  Bruises on his jaw and neck, and one ear crusted with blood where the large hoop he liked to wear had been ripped out. 

His clothes were in tatters, and he was filthy.  I could smell him from ten feet away.  But that didn’t stop me from stepping forward and wrapping him in a hug.

“What are you doing here?”  He sobbed into my shoulder.

“Trying to save your dumb ass,” I whispered back.  “We don’t have much time.  Your cop buddies came to me.  They want their shit, and if you don’t cooperate they’re going to pay the warden to have you killed.  If I take it to them, they’ll leave you alone.”

“They’ll never leave me alone,” he said as we moved apart slightly.  “I know who they are.  I could testify against them.  That’s why I won’t tell them where it is.”

“Tim, listen.  If I don’t bring that shit across, today, you’re dead.  I looked in their eyes, man.  They aren’t fucking around.  Maybe they won’t have you killed at first.  Maybe just peel some skin off or take your eyes.  Whatever the gangs in here can do to make you talk, but these are serious guys. 

“Tell me where it is.  I’ll deliver it, then I’ll get the money from Mom and Dad to pay of the warden and get you out of here.  That’s your only choice.  And we’ve got to hurry.  That guard’s going to be back any minute.”

I stared hard at him.  Gave him the look I used when we were kids and he was being an ass about something.  The look that told him he’d better do what I said or shit was going to get a lot worse.  He stared back at me, bloody snot alternately appearing and disappearing in his nose as he breathed.  Finally, he nodded and looked down at the floor.

“The Pink Pussy,” he mumbled.  “It’s a whorehouse on the western edge of town.  Know it?”

“No, but I can find it.”

“In the back parking lot is a beat to shit Ford Ranger.  Black.  The shit is in a false compartment behind the seat.” 

His head was hanging down and he stared at the floor as he spoke.  I felt for him, but at the same time I was angry with him for having made his own mess.

“Keys?”

“Stand at the rear bumper and walk ten yards straight out into the desert.  Look for a rock shaped like Texas.  They’re under it.”

I was surprised.  This was a simple, yet effective trick to not have any ties to a vehicle on you in case you were arrested.  Not that it would keep some local kid from breaking out a window and hot wiring it, but it showed more cunning than I thought Tim possessed.