Gringa - In the Clutches of a Ruthless Drug Lord (12 page)

             
T
hey ignore my protests and increase the intensity.

             
‘You must sleep,’
Rosa
says.

             
‘Eh, I’m okay. ’Sides, it’s
too bright
…
too much coffee.

             
They respond by drawing the sheets over me, tucking me in and closing the blinds. Big bullies.

             
To my surprise, I fall asleep immediately.

When I awake, its
4 PM and I’m disorientated. After a while, I slide out of bed and
make my way to my two new friends with benefits
.

             
They
welcome me warmly but peer at my face. I think they’re worried that I will cry again.
To put me at ease, they laugh and poke fun at each other. I really appreciate their niceness and gravitate towards them.  

   
             
I’m starving but I
can’t bring myself
to eat. I just ask for more coffee as
I
surreptitiously takes in my surroundings, looking for ... well, cadavers, mighty cleavers, table cloths made out of human skins, lima beans
... 

    
             
Nothing. Everything here looks so
confusingly
normal. I open the refrigerator on the pretext of getting more milk. Nothing
- j
ust cheese, milk, soft drinks – all the stuff you find in our
Elaine’s kitc
hen back home.
(Not my fridge though – it’s always filled with beer, flat, diet coke and mouldy month-old pizza. I used to explain that I was planning to making penicillin for a third world country.)

             
Maybe the villagers are wrong about the cannibal bit. Please let them be wrong
as
I’m starving.

    
             
Rosa
takes my hand. ‘Come see your home.’

             
My
home
. Meekly, I go with her.

             
Tana
Mera is perched on top of a hill with breathtaking views of the ocean and partial views of the valley. The lawns around the ranch are manicured
and lush with luxuriant blooms of roses, dahlias and
tulips – colourful and festive.
A gardener pruning some rose bushes pauses and stares at me. 

             
‘Diablo’s woman!’
Rosa
yells.

             
He breaks into a smile. ‘AAAHHH! My name Sam,’ he says, and bows slightly. ‘Velcome, Senorita.’

             
I smile at him. ‘Nice to meet you Sam.’

   
             
‘
Diablo’s voman
!’ Sam suddenly yells to someone behind me.

             
Startled,
I spin around and see an armed guard stationed in a tower overlooking the ranch. 

             
‘AAAAHHH!’ the guard says
. ‘Senorita,’ he nods.

             
‘Come,’
Rosa
says and we continue our tour. ‘We got
ta
ten villas. You, Diablo, you stay in tha
t
villa.’ She points to the one I slept in.

             
‘Christa,’ she says, pointing to the largest villa on the highest point of the ranch. ‘She sleep there, tha
t
villa.
The big one.
’

             
So Christa has a bird’s eye view of her five thuggish sons and the men that resided at the ranch
–
how
controlling.

             
‘Where is everyone right now?’

             
‘They go work. Later, they come, we make
a
party.’

             
Work. Mfff
!
Bet they’re out pillaging and stealing from other villages or shooting foreigners and throwing them into the ocean. But I’m happy they aren’t around so I can relax a little. And I do, while Maria and Rosa busy themselves with dinner preparations for about thirty five people and during that time, they argue every single minute, giving me a
massive
headache. 

             
As the day fades, my stomach starts to churn
.
I become restless
and
wear out
my spearmint
carpet with my pacing. They’re calling me Diablo’s woman – scary. I’m twenty one
,
not good wife material. I suck at most domestic chores and duties, so I’m bound to disappoint. Wonder if he knows my age? I doubt it. I doubt he knows anything about me. What about the half-man half-beast issue? What about the sexual aspect? The thought of
fucking him
makes me hurl. I dash to the bathroom and bend over the sink for a while.

             
There is nothing to throw up
.
I still haven’t eaten, save for a fe
w biscuits. My mind is a muddle,
half-man hal
f-beast
...
sex
...
cannibals
...
prisoner
.

CHAPTER THREE

6 PM. The
men
arrive from
work
and the
ranch
bursts into life.
There is
drinking, loud
laughter
, profanity and music.

             
I’m in my room, peeping
through the blinds, mainly
on the lookout for
Diablo. Every time I think about him, the knot in my stomach tightens. 

    
             
Suddenly, my door is flu
ng open! I suppress a scream.
Diablo
?

             
But it’s Christa and Santana. Santana is smiling so I smile back, relieved it’s them
.
             
Christa does not smile
. H
er eyes hard
, her lips a thin line.

    
             
‘H ... Hi,’ I say.

             
Maria and Rosa are so friendly towards me
, so
maybe these two will come round, become my friend
s
, maybe even take pity on me and ask Diablo to release me. I really could do with their help right now. They’re women
,
they ought to be sympathetic. 

             
They enter my room and to my surprise, immediately begin sniggering and mocking me in Spanish.
Why the fuck?

  
             
Slowly, they circle me and
laugh and
suddenly
,
I’m seven years old and being bullied by Laura Kimble and Justine McCready in the school playground. I can’t understand everything they’re saying, but bitchiness manifests itself as bitchiness in any language and I get the gist very quickly
. E
specially since they’re pointing to my hair, my breasts, my hips, my dress
,
making me feel like a slave at a human auction.

             
‘Ugly,’ Santana says.

             
Yeah? Well,
I got news for them - I know that already. Elaine
had
pointed it out to me when I was six. But
she
was able to problem solve: I was told I needed to marry rich so that I can engage the services of
a good plastic surgeon
.
A few visits to him and I’d look as good as
Paris
, she always said
. 

             
A man
they’re calling
Tongue (I assume that’s his nickname and that he still has his
.
) cradling a whisky bottle, s
waggers in. ‘Tell me, tell me,’ he says.

             
Howling with laughter, the bitches fill him in and the humiliation sale continues.

     
             
He listens then turns to me.
‘
Bebe,
I am pleased to make your acquaintance,’ he says
and bows
dramatically. ‘My name is Tongue and I have
balls
. Lo
ok.’ He sticks out his tongue to reveal his piercings
. Tw
o
silver
metal balls on
a
long, greyish, spotted tongue. ‘See? I knew you be impress
ed
. Women are my weakness,
bebe
. Especially young women like you ... scared ...
frightened. You are how old – thirteen? Fourteen?’

             
What an asswipe.

             
‘M
akes me hard
,
’
he says as he
runs his hand over my butt. ‘Whachusay? Huh? Whachusay?’

             
Mortified that he would even touch me,
I slap his hand away.

             
‘Bebe, there is no reason to be afraid,’
he
says, his voice raspy. ‘I can make you feel very good. My room is on the top over there,’ he says
and points
to a villa at the top
of the ranch. ‘Whachusay?
’