Muerte Con Carne (7 page)

“I’m going to my room now, so you won’t have to see me. But don’t let your food get cold. I’m telling you, you need to try this. Okay?”

She waited a few minutes, but still nothing. Back in her room, she made quick work of the second taco, devouring it like some starved beast. The urge to snatch up the two tacos she had left for Felix entered her mind more than once. The last bite stayed in her mouth, and she over-chewed it, wanting to savor it, taste it for as long as possible.

She pulled the plastic lid from the Styrofoam cup and inhaled the rich aroma of the greasy soup. The menudo was filled with chunks of tripas and hominy. She plucked a nice honeysuckle chunk from the top, sucked it into her mouth.

“Oh my god.”

Slurps and moans filled the room as she dug in.

***

Felix woke up with the side of his face pasted to his pillow by his own vomit. He lay in the bed naked, his body covered in a layer of sweat. The mattress was soaked.

He sat up, groaned, grabbed his forehead with both hands. The small hangover he had only yesterday was a puppy compared to the snarling, thrashing pitbull in his skull this morning. He had no idea when he had stumbled into the motel, but remembered the stairs being particularly difficult to climb. The liquor held okay, and though he’d lost count of how many shots he’d taken, he managed to keep it down. Until he entered his room. The smell and mustiness was waiting for him. Though the air conditioner hummed, it did nothing to change the smoldering temperature. The moment he stepped in and shut the door behind him, his stomach had had enough.

A large splatter of puke lay on the carpet just inside the door, his footprints smashed into it leading to the bed. He remembered puking a second time in the bed, but he had been too exhausted and sick to move, so he just closed his eyes and slept in it. He touched the side of this face and grimaced at the hardened gunk caked to his cheek and ear.

“Oh…jesus…”

Standing was nearly impossible, but he forced himself to his feet and stumbled toward the bathroom. He kept his eyes opened to mere slits as the harsh sunlight razor-bladed into the room through the blinds. Even with his back turned to it, the light made his temples pulse.

He aimed his dick over the water, and leaned against the wall with his arm, burying his forehead into the crook of his elbow. The piss was dark yellow, almost orange, and it splashed against the brim of the toilet, sprinkling his feet with hot urine. He shifted his aim and moaned, hating himself more and more each second.

Marta. Her face came screaming into his mind through the fog of his hangover.

Did I hear her voice? A banging on the door?

He couldn’t be sure if it was a dream or not. The knocking could have been his temples throbbing. Marta did fill his dreams, but the images his mind had conjured for him were nightmare material. She was screaming, so loud and shrill, and covered with blood. Then a gurgly burp exploded from her throat, along with a waterfall of intestines and purple organs.

Just thinking about it sent tremors through Felix’s gut, and before he knew it, he was on his knees, hugging the porcelain. What was left in his stomach poured out of him, a pink frothy broth. The sting leaked into his nostrils. The pressure from puking ignited his headache into another realm, and he leaned his face against the piss-covered brim and gasped, moaned and whimpered.

After the pounding subsided enough for him to get to his feet, he cut the shower on, stepped in, and let the hot water engulf him. The spray was weak and sporadic, but it felt good nonetheless. It was a little too hot, but he left it that way, burning the petrified puke from his face, melting it off in soggy clumps. It still hurt to open his eyes fully, so he kept them at a squint, using the cheap bar soap to scrub away any evidence of the prior night.

God, when Marta sees me, she’s going to flip.

Tonight was the night. They would be heading out to the border, and god knew what would happen next. He still didn’t know what the full plan was. They were going to wear some tattered, old clothing and act like they were Mexican illegals crossing over. Felix wasn’t convinced it would even work. Hell, he didn’t know dick for Spanish, just a few phrases here and there. Enough to get by, but not even enough to have a conversation.

And I’m taking my goddamn driver’s license. Just in case. Hide it under by nuts if I have to.

He planned on taking Marta’s too. At some point when she wasn’t looking he planned to swipe it and bring it along. No way in hell he’d let the two of them rot in some fucking prison just to prove a point.

As far as he knew, though, Marta still wasn’t talking to him. He still couldn’t figure out what he did to deserve that shit, but just chalked it up to Marta being Marta. If that was really her at his door this morning, maybe she was over her little tantrum.

His hands and feet had pruned up pretty good, and though his headache was alive and well, he did feel slightly better. He loathed walking back into the room and into the vomit-scented sauna that it was.

He cut the water off, dried himself, and breathed through the filter of the towel as he got dressed. But the towel was infused with a mildew odor, its surface scratchy and hard. He tossed it away and breathed into the crook of his arm instead.

A half-empty bottle of tequila sat on the floor beside the bed, and he wondered where it came from or how he had gotten it. Once he had his clothes on, he went back to the bathroom to brush his teeth, which he did over and over again until he was sure all traces of funk were gone. There was still a slight sting at the back of his throat, in his naval passages, but it would have to do.

Doing his best not to look at the vomit splashed over the carpet, he stepped around it and out his door. The sun was like a flamethrower blasting heat and light into his face. An agonizing pounding began afresh in his head, and he groaned, leaned backward on his door for a second. He nearly stepped on the paper sack sitting at his doorstep, and he realized then with a slight smile that Marta had been at his door that morning after all.

A peace offering maybe?

A small piece of him wanted to stay mad at her, to show her that she couldn’t just treat him like that for no reason, then expect everything to be back to normal. But as usual, he would do no such thing. She would smile at him and he would be incapable of doing anything but smile back. She had power over him and he knew it, but didn’t care.

This is the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.

He picked up the greasy bag and peered into it. Breakfast tacos from the look of it, wrapped in foil. There was a Styrofoam cup in there too, and Felix went for that first. It was still warm, but when he uncovered it, he felt his gorge rise again. Menudo.

Fucking disgusting.

The chunks of honeysuckle intestine protruded from the orange-red soup, bubbles of grease floating on top. The white hominy looked like boils that needed popping. Felix quickly replaced the lid and dropped the cup in the bag. Any possibility of an appetite was now vanquished.

“Felix!”

Felix shaded his eyes with his hand and peered into the parking lot. Marta splashed around in the tiny swimming pool, filth floating around in her black masses. She waved, a smile covering half of her face, then motioned for him to come down.

Felix wanted to shout back to her, tell her he’d rather not. The sun was already making him regret ever getting out of bed. But to shout would surely send needles into his brain, so he took the stairs slowly, crossed the parking lot.

Marta grabbed the edge of the pool and lifted herself half out of it. She wore her white bikini, and just seeing her smooth brown skin, gleaming and wet, brought a smile to Felix’s face. The bikini top pressed her breasts together, and he wanted nothing more than to smash his face into her cleavage. The tips of each breast were pointed with hard nipples, and he could see the shape of her areola through the soaked white top.

“Hey,” she said as Felix sat on a plastic lawn chair. “Sleep okay?”

“I wouldn’t say that exactly. Found the local bar last night.” He had thought about coming up with some lie, but figured he might as well come clean. It would be physically impossible to hide his hangover today. “I might’ve gotten a little carried away.”

She squinted up at him, her smile half melting away, but she shrugged. “I guess that explains why you look like shit.” She rose her eyebrow, bit her lip.

“Yeah. So, uh, I guess you’re not-”

“I’m sorry, Felix. I swear I don’t know why I act the way I do sometimes. I’m a bitch, and I know it, but for whatever reason, I can’t…I don’t know. A psychiatrist would probably tell me my fucked up childhood has something to do with it, and…shit, I can’t help it I guess. I’m just a weirdo.” She pulled herself out of the pool and cradled herself in his lap. The pool water soaked into his shorts. She leaned in and kissed him. “You forgive me?”

Felix couldn’t help his cock from prodding her in the lower back, and he grinned, shook his head. “Nope.”

She leaned in again, shoved her tongue into his mouth. Her hand went to the back of his head, gently scratching his scalp.

Oh god I hope she doesn’t taste my vomit.

“How ‘bout now?”

Felix leaned his head against hers, took a deep breath. “Good to have you back. Tequila is not a good replacement, though you both are really good at giving me a headache.”

She slapped him on the back of the head, and he yelped, then whimpered.

“Is it really that bad?” She leaned back and looked into his face.

“‘Fraid so.”

“Well, then you should eat your food. The grease will help. I used to love menudo the morning of a hangover. Good medicine.” She hopped off his lap, bent down and picked up the bag at Felix’s feet.

“That menudo will go nowhere near my mouth. I can’t believe you like that shit.”

“Did you even try it? Unbelievable, I’m telling you.”

“Hell no. Thank you, but hell no. I don’t know if my stomach can handle any food at all to tell you the truth.”

She shook her head, pulled the menudo out, then tossed the bag to him. “Well, you need to eat. We have a lot to do today.” And then she popped the lid off the Styrofoam cup and drank the menudo broth.

Felix’s stomach twisted slightly, but he concentrated on the food in his lap, pulled a taco from the bag. “Where did you get these anyway?”

She wiped her mouth with her arm. “Trailer just a few blocks from here, parked right outside a small general store. Best I’ve ever had, and I’m not exaggerating.”

Felix opened the taco, saw that it was barbacoa. His mouth watered at the scent, and he bit into it.
Oh shit. Goddamn
. He devoured it, his cheeks bulging as he chewed.

“Fucking awesome, right?” Marta said as she chewed. She didn’t bother using a spoon as she sucked the menudo down.

“Hell yes. Wow.” His empty stomach begged for more, and he unwrapped the second taco with hurried fingers.

Marta tapped the bottom of the cup as she finished the soup off, sighed, and patted her belly. “I almost ate all the food myself after I tasted it, but I decided to share.”

“How nice of you.”

She patted the top of his head and began to walk away, back toward the motel.

“Where you going?” Felix turned in the chair so he was facing her as she strolled across the parking lot, her ass swaying and dripping pool water.

“To my room.” She pulled her bikini bottom from the crack of her ass, then looked over her shoulder at him. “Could use some company.”

Felix knocked the chair over with the backs of his knees as he jumped to his feet and followed her.

***

Marta lay on her back, panting and smiling. She reached over and patted the head of Felix’s cock. “Good boy.” A laugh sputtered from her mouth. “Suuuuch a good boy…”

Felix chuckled, had both hands behind his head. Sweat covered both of them, their hair damp with it. Marta grabbed two fistfuls of her hair and giggled.

Twice. She came twice. Felix had never done that before, and just thinking about it made her want to go again.

Felix reached over, ran his hand over her breasts. His cum was warm against her stomach, and when his fingers slid through it, he sat up, tittered. “Let me get you a towel.”

Marta just nodded, still breathing hard. She stared at Felix’s ass as he walked away, biting her bottom lip. Felix had never looked so sexy, and Marta wanted him again. Never wanted him to stop fucking her.

It’s because you know what’s coming tonight. This is your last chance for some fun.

Felix shuffled back toward her, wiped up the white splashes on her belly. He lay beside her, sighed, then leaned over and kissed her. Marta grabbed his arm, pulled him back on top of her.

“I’ve never wanted you more than I do right now,” Marta said. She kissed him, slid her tongue into his mouth, reached down and grabbed his throbbing cock with both hands.

He shuddered, his body quivering. Sweat dripped from his drooping bangs, rained down on Marta. She ran her hand through his hair, slicking it back, then kissed him again.

“I love you, Marta,” he said. “I…I love you so bad.”

She paused. Her instincts told her to shove him off of her, ask him to leave.

Don’t do it. Don’t you dare fuck this up.

“Fuck me, Felix.”

And he did.

5

Felix’s headache was still there, but had calmed to a light throb in his temples. He was more concentrated on the buzzing in his groin. Marta had never been so passionate, so into it before. She had screamed, raked her nails into his flesh, pulled her hair, slapped the walls.

You told her you loved her.

He didn’t know where it had come from. The words slipped out as he stared into her eyes. The way she was looking at him, her face full of lust and want, he couldn’t help himself. But she didn’t say it back, didn’t even respond.

She did answer. She told you to fuck her.