Gringa - In the Clutches of a Ruthless Drug Lord (76 page)

BOOK: Gringa - In the Clutches of a Ruthless Drug Lord
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Streamers and flags decorate the
fair and
the music is blaring. As I
promised, Diago’s men don’t
interfere or intimidate. The people of Siempre love it and take turns throughout the day to say thank
you to them and me.

             
The food stalls are laden with
tons of delicious food cooked in trans-fat
and the drinking mini taverns are filled with
tipsy people.
The kids enjoy the
free
rides, while others dance in the area designated for dancing. There’s karaoke, something they aren’t familiar with, but love it now
and fight for the mikes
.

             
Everybody looks so happy that I feel a little overwhelmed that I could be responsible for so many people’s happiness. It’s a great moral booster all round. 

             
Elaine and Paris are there and probe me for details of Christa’s and Tongue death.

             
‘Not today,’ I say
.
‘Today, we
fair
. We eat, drink and re
-
marry.’

             
‘Is that why the Devil’s not here today?’
Paris
ask
s
.

             
‘He’s shy,’ I explain. ‘Can’t dance for Jack and scared the villagers will think he’s a softie for appearing at events like this.’

             
Paris
wrinkles her nose. ‘Mff!’

             
‘“
Eat, drink and re
-
marry”
,’
Elaine scoffs, her eyes smouldering. ‘That’s what your father wants to do these days. Look at the
old goat. His behaviour is
ridiculous.’

             
I look at my father and raise my eyebrows. He’s engaged in conversation
with
a very sexy, Senorita. Actually, she’s talking while he’s gaz
es
adoringly into her beautiful brown eyes. He’s standing really close to her and he touches her arm a couple of times - so unlike him.

             
‘Wow. He’s has a fan,’ I say
.

             
‘Fan
?
’ she spits. ‘He’s a fool. Look how he’s dressed
; like a peasant.’

             
I look at him and my eyebrows
disappear behind my spiky fringe.
He’s wearing a sleeveless
,
red vest, usually worn by young
er
men. Really young
,
Mexican men.
T
oday, he’s wearing blue jeans.
No
tweed and gabardine
or
brown and beige
.
As for his comb-over

             
But he does look happier.
 

             

Si, si
,’ I hear him say
as he looks into the
Senorita
’s eyes

             
‘He’s been like that for two weeks,’ Elaine complains. ‘Most nights he doesn’t even bother to come home.’

             
‘Really? Have you like talked to him about ...?’

             
‘Ye
s
. He’s says
,
“If you don’t like it here, go home”.’ She sniffs loudly.

             
‘Mid life crises,’
Paris
murmurs
, her lips curling with contempt.

             
I think it is but I say nothing. Considering the fact that Elaine fucked Tongue
,
I’d say karma is playing fair.

             

Si, si
,’ my father continues. His Spanish must really have improved if he understands what she’s saying. 

             
Elaine continues her bitching as my father starts slow
-
dancing with the
young lady
.

             
‘The object of his erection,’
Paris
mocks.

             
‘Eeewww Paris, that’s my dad.’

             
I want to ask about
Austin
but I don’t.

             
Then I feel someone squeezing my waist. I spin around and look into
Austin
’s face.

             

Austin
! Thank God you’re back,’ I say, relieved that he and
Paris
has made up.

             
He gives me a hug, then holds me back to
let his eyes sweep over me.
‘Wow Payton! You’re smokin
g
man. Look at you – you look like a babe
.

             
‘Awww thanks, but that’s cos
Iyamababe
!’

             
He grins and tightens his grip around my waist. ‘
E
very time I see you, you look sexier
,
I swear.’

             
‘Awww Austin ... don’t!’

             

Yeah “don’t”!

Paris
cries. ‘You never say those things to me. You’re such a
fucking
dirt
bag.’

             
Austin
grimaces and looks her up and down. ‘That’s cos you look like a tug boat.
Honey
. A big one.’

             
Paris
gasps. The one thing you never did with
Paris
– talk about her weight. That turns her into a raving banshee.

             
‘You bastard! Fucking needle dick! You mother fuckin’ ... ’

             
Ok,
time for me to mingle. Yeah, that’s it - I’ll mingle. It’s safer
. No
need to ruin a good day with their marital woes. Besides, I put in a lot of work for this fair and
fuck if I allow them to ruin it for me.

             
I walk over to a shooting booth and decide to
check out the prizes. N
ow that I no longer ha
ve
my precious Taco-Bell, there
is
a pretty, stuffed, marshmallow
-
pink kitten I have my eye on.
I shoot a few rounds but
I don’t win the pink kitty.

             
‘Hey, lemme try,’
Austin
says, appearing next to me. ‘Bet I can win you a prize,’ he says, taking the gun and assuming a
dramatic
shooting stance.

             
‘Okay,’ I say, glancing around for
Paris
, ‘aim for the pink kitty.’

             
‘No problemo,’ he says and fires. He hit everything except the target. Off course, he doesn’t win anything. ‘Lemme do it again,’ he say
s
.

             
‘Forget it
Austin
. I gotta go.’ I turn to leave, not wanting to annoy
Paris
by having him loiter around me. Frankly, I don’t want to be near
Austin
and
I
wish he
’d
leave me alone.

             
He drops the gun and grabs my hand in his. ‘I’ll walk you
.
’ 

             
Damn! I try to shake off his hand. ‘Austin, your wife

s not go
nna
be very happy if you hold my hand.’ His hand fe
e
l
s
bony and
wet-fish, unlike Diago’s, whose
hands
are
large, roomy, strong and warm
,
like his heart. God
,
I miss him
.

             
‘Fuck her!’
Austin
says. ‘I don’t want her anymore. She’s a slut. I want
you
.’

             

Austin
,
stop.
You have to try to make a go ... ’

             
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Hey, l
et’s g
et hammered like we used to
.

             
I sigh and allow him to lead me to the bar where
he orders six shots of tequila.

             
‘Dance with me,’ he
whispers, his mouth almost nibbling my ear. Yuck! Reminds me of Tongue.

             
‘No
, a
sk
Paris
. You should.’
I down a shot of tequila and suck on a wedge of lemon.

             
He turns and looks at
Paris
. ‘Forget it.’

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