Gringa - In the Clutches of a Ruthless Drug Lord (31 page)

Changing route confuses Diablo and for a few moments, the gap between us increases, allowing me some respite.

             
I’m
desperate to reach the rock pool so that I can shake
the enraged animal behind me.

             
But to my dismay and my surprise, he catches me.

             
‘Let go of me you
fucking
freak!’

             
We
grapple
for a
few moments
, but somehow
,
I manage to break free. Minus my dress. He’s holding it in his hands and I’m running with just my bra and panties.
I don’t give a fuck though.

             
I’ve never been so relieved to see the rock pool and I dive into the water and swim frantically. I don’t stop until I’m in the middle of the pool, then only do I turn back, expecting to see him close by.

             
To my surprise, he’s standing on the banks of the rock
pool looking at me, breathing heavily. Behind him a group of villagers laugh and point at me.

             
I play an air guitar and start to sing. ‘I win! I win! I win! Yeah! Yeah!’ 

    
             
He glowers at me
and waves his
knife threateningly.

             
I’m confused as to why he isn’t
trying to get me
.

             
Then I
he
ar
jeers from some of the crowd. Something about Diablo
being scared of water. So that was it - this brutal slayer, this nightmare of a monster feared by all is scared of
water
? How bizarre is that? 

             
‘What Diablo, you scared of
water
, eh? You fucking baboon!
Yes, you’re a
monkey.’
I tap the top of my head. ‘Hee hee hoo hoo!’

             
Diablo inhales and exhales deeply. 

             
‘You wear clothes and you walk upright, but that is the extent of your evolution – you’re still a
fucking
baboon. Get it? A baboon that allows men to do drugs in his home. You’re nothing but a pathetic murder
er
. You kill women
- h
ow tough does that make you, huh? What about children? You kill them too? Huh? I wouldn’t be surprised, ’cos you’re such a fucking coward!’

             
Nobody is laughing now. 

             
Two of the men, start wading into the water to get to me, but Diablo stops them.

             
Someone hands him a lit cigarette and he puffs away, never taking his eyes off me.

   
             
The crowd hums.

    
             
‘
Usted es un pesimo laicos
,
Diablo
.
How’s my Spanish, El Bastido?’ I ask proudly. ‘I learned that from a Spanish Dictionary of Dirty Words I brought in LA.
Means you’re a lousy lay.
Funny eh?’

             
‘Two minutes then it’s all over. Two minutes
, t
hen it’s finito!’

    
             
His drags on his cigarette are longer now.

             
‘You should stick to her,’ I say, pointing at Santana. ‘She thinks you’re great. She’ll always tell you how fabulousa you are in bed and how you’re the greatest lover she’s ever had in her whole life. You like that, right?
e
gotistical bastard!’

    
             
Santana is fuming. ‘Shoot her Diablo,’ she hisses, circling him. ‘
Pegarle un tiro
!’

    
             
‘Me? I’ve had better,’ I jeer. ‘Ten times over. My boyfriends were soooo much better
than you,
El
Monstero
. You just take what you want, you fucking low-life. As for killing me – whose gonna kill me? You? Ha! You shot me three times and still you couldn’t kill me?’

    
             
I look at the crowd. ‘Eh, how do you say in “you’re a lousy shot” in Spanish? Anybody ...?’

             
Off course, none of the fuckers have my balls right now, which emanates from the copious amounts of alcohol I consumed.

             
‘Yo
u killed me because I was a spy?
What spy? Some intelligence you have there.’

             
To my utter amazement, he smiles. For a moment, I’m not sure if I’m imagining it. But upon closer examination, by way of an intense stare on my part, I see that he is indeed smiling - an undisguised, genuinely amused smile.

    
             
He looks at the others. They appeared to be just as surprised to see him smile and they too smile. Some of them chuckle. A few of them even laugh. But not Santana and Christa. They are not
smiling
.

     ‘What d’ya want me here for, Diablo?’ I ask, feeling a little tired by now. ‘I don’t fit in here and I’m like, so not impressed by you or your crew or your tequila or your Ponderosa.
Okay, maybe your tequila.
I’m never gonna like, marry you and be your wife and have your children. Lord no! I have plans for myself. I gonna like, fight bad guys one day.’

             
He raises his eyebrows.

             
‘Keep her instead of me.’ I
say and
point again at Santana. ‘She’s
mucho
impresso
with you and your ... your
ability to
burn down a village of defenceless old men and women and children with the strike of just one matchstick.’

             
He glances at Santana as if seeing her for the first time.

    
             
Santana’s smirk disappears. ‘Wha
t?
Don’t listen to her
, Diablo
.’

    
             
‘The only time you will ever get anything out of me El Stupido, is if you steal it from me - rape me
like you did
. Other than that, you have a hope in hell!’

             
Somebody hands him another lit cigarette and he smokes, looking blankly at me.

    
             
‘I hate piercings and you
’re like a fucking tea-strainer.
I
dislike
tattoos and
look like a badly sketched road map.
I hate hairy men and you
have dreadlocks
and
a beard. Uggh!
You need an extreme makeover
,
Amigo.
Oh, and s
ome serious exfoliation.’

     
             
‘And
you
need to put on some clo
thes
,’ he growls.

             
I look down at myself
. Crap!
I become especially conscious of Tongue
’s leering smile
and quickly
drop below water level.

    
             
Diablo picks up my dress and holds it up.

             
I shake my head from side-to-side.

             
‘I’m gonna stay here forever
now that I know
you’re scared of water.’

    
             
‘My men
, they
are not scared,’ he reminds me
.
‘They can bring you to me.’ Then he looks over his shoulder and rattles of
f
in Spanish to the people behind him and I grow nervous. The bastard’s actually going to send his men after me
?

    
             
But, to my surprise,
the crowd starts to slowly thin out.
I stare, confused. What the hell’s he up to now?  He turns and looks at me, and I realise he’s
messing with me.
I giggle, then float on my back, while he watches. I’m in no hurry to leave the water. I just wish he would leave but remember to leave my dress behind or I would have to walk back to the villa almost naked. Not a pleasant thought
since the alcohol is wearing off and I’m developing a mother of a headache.

    
             
When I look back at him, he’s smiling at my antics.

             
‘You have
cojones
,’ he says softly. ‘No one talk to me like tha
t.

    
             
‘Yeah?’

             
He nods.

             
‘Yeah, cos you’ll probably shoot them for telling you like it is?’

    
             
He thinks before he answers, ‘
Si
.’

             
‘Gosh, you’re such an a
rrogant prick
,’ I say more to myself.

    
             
I raise my hands in a surrendering motion. ‘Go ahead. Shoot. But please – I’d like to die with the first bullet, not the thirty first.’

    
             
He grins. Then his smile disappears. ‘You don’
t
like me?’

             
‘Duh.’

             
‘You like
Him
.’