Gringa - In the Clutches of a Ruthless Drug Lord (81 page)

  
             
‘The lines – they get pretty blurred and understandably so,’ he says. ‘We
’re not
judging you, we’re just really concerned and, Payton, we want this nightmare to end. We had to show you this. You need to know. Time to take a look at things, see them for what they really are, then, just move on. Put all this crap behind you.’

   
             
The gentleness in his voice makes my bottom lip tremble. I wish they weren’t looking at me with such pity.

             
Got to keep up pretences, so I straighten my shoulders and give a curt nod. ‘I gotta go,’ I mutter. 

             
Depp nods and lets me out of the room. ‘Don’t forget our meeting next …’

             
I zone out as I walk away.

Anger - my friend, my protector, my shield – time to summon you. You’ve been dormant for far too long. Time to dust off the cobwebs and haul your ass to the forefront. I’m driving really fast right now.

             
I will leave for
America
right away. I have a life waiting for me in
Los Angeles
. Diago can go fuck himself. I don’t need him and I don’t give a shit about what happens to his lying, cheating ass. To hell with him.

             
As for Depp and Grey – fuck them too. They don’t care about me or they would have stepped in a long time ago and rescued me from the evil dragon holding me prisoner. Instead, they used me and my adverse circumstances to fast track their investigation. Motherfuckers! I slam my palms against the steering wheel.

             
Fuck everybody! Fuck the world!

             
And fuck me too for being so gullible, so pliable in Diago’s hands. He violated me, hurt me, murdered me for fuck’s sake! How the hell did I lose focus? ‘
Aaaaggghhh!
’ I slam on my brakes, jump out of my Jeep, slam the door shut and storm into our bedroom.

             
I stand in the middle of my precious bedroom and look around. A deceit chamber, this is. I eye
Diago’s
big
-
screen TV
.
It’s not big, it’s massive. Covers an entire wall. Diago can’t live without this
?
Can’t sleep unless he watches TV while lying in bed, eh?

             
I look around. Can’t see it anywhere. I look under the bed. Nothing. Where the fuck can it be? Then, I spot it in a corner of the room. I smile and pick
up the baseball bat. As I walk towards the TV, I tap the bat to the palm of my hand and whistle.
 

             
Yes, probably costs a lot of money. I smile and swing the bat and the TV is no more. I don’t
give a shit
about the ‘splinters’ piercing my skin.
I just swing.
Poor Diago, he’s gonna be awake
all
night.

             
I move to the lounge and look at Diago’s collection of sporting paraphernalia displayed on an oak cabinet. Nice stuff. His treasure. Took years to collect. Shows them off to everyone who visits the ranch. Among them, a baseball in a square glass holder signed by Babe Ruth. Did someone say it’s priceless?

             
With a mirthless smile, I raise the bat and bring it crashing down. The sound of breaking glass is so loud, even I jump. Broken glass everywhere.

             
I stand back and nod. The thrill of destruction. Exhilarating
!
  

             
So what if there is blood all over my face from the flying glass? It doesn’t hurt, not like my heart does.

             
‘Gringa!’

             
I turn around and look into Rosa and Maria’s horrified faces.

             
‘What the hell did you do?’ Maria asks, her eyes the size of saucers.

             
I smile at her. ‘Your English, Maria – it’s so good these …’

             
Troy
dashes into the room. ‘What is going on here?’ he asks his hands on his head.
He eyes me and my baseball bat. ‘Gringa
! W
hy you do this?’

             
‘Yes,’
Rosa
says, ‘why you break this all? Why?’

             
Three pairs of eyes stare bore into me.

             
‘
Cos the fuckers
married
.
’ 

             
All eyes are now downcast.

             
‘You guys knew and ….and didn’t
tell
me?’

             
‘What is going on here?’ It’s Diago. He
gapes
at the destruction around
.
‘You
…you
d
o
thi
ii
s? Why, Payton?’ He runs over to his baseball, picks it up and stares at it in horror. ‘What is wrong with you?’

             
I stiffen. He has a nerve. ‘You!’ I spit. ‘You’re married.’

             
It’s a while before he answers. ‘I’m not married,’ he says in a matter-of-fact voice. 

             
‘You lying asshole!’ I scream swing at him. He ducks then lurches at me, seizes me and pins me to the wall, sandwiching the bat between the two of us.

             
‘Let me go, you
cocksucker
!’ I try to kick him but he’s using his body to restrain me. 

             
‘You calm down, Payton.
Now!
’

             
‘Calm down? I’ll fucking knife you again, you fuckwit!’

             
‘I’m not married,’ he repeats and slowly releases me.

             
We stare at each other and suddenly to my horror, my eyes start to water. I need to get away.

             
I turn and flee to the bedroom. He follows me and gasps at
the sight of the TV.

             
I grab some bags and furiously throw my clothes into them. Then I stop and stare ahead of me. I start to pack again, then stop. Fuck, I can’t focus! I need a cigarette.

             
‘Payton!’

             
I ignore him and pack furiously again.

             
He grabs my arm.

             
I shove him off so hard, he’s startled. ‘What is wrong with you, Payton?’

             
‘What is wrong with
me
? I’ll tell you what is wrong with me – Y
ou!
You are what’s wrong!
You could have told me. Somewhere along the line, you could have said, “Know what naïve and gullible Gringa - there is something you don’t know, cos you’re so fucking green and easy to fleece and trusting and ... and dumb. I’m a married man, and my wife, Santana, she lives here as well.”’

             
Diago opens his mouth to speak then shuts it.

             
I spin around to look at Maria and
Troy
who have since entered the bedroom.

             
They shift in their shoes.

             
I grab more clothes off hangers and
fling them
into bags.

             
‘Where are you going to, Senorita?’ Maria asks.

             
‘Home. Back to
Los Angeles
where I fucking belong. Away from him and his ... his harem.  I’m twenty one – have my whole life ahead of me. Don’t need such a fucking old man. There are plenty of studs in
America
that I can hook up with …
sane
mother fuckers.’  I don’t even know what I’m rambling on about anymore.

             
I grab the keys to the Jeep and storm out. ‘You can
forget about this car. I’m gonna burn it when I’m done!’ I shout over my shoulder.

             
Diago races outside and blocks my path.

             
‘Get the fuck out of my way, you two-timing asshole.’

             
He stays put and looks at me.

             
I shove him in the chest but it’s like pushing an oak tree – he doesn’t move.

             
Troy
is also in front of me. ‘Diago can explain, Gringa,’ he says.

             
‘Explain? You mean
lie
?’
             

             
‘Senorita, please, we can talk about this,’ Maria says.

             
Just then
Rosa
races up the driveway. She spots the bag and she gasps.

             
‘Senorita is leaving us,’ Maria says, her voice accusing. ‘She go back to
America
.’

             
Rosa
’s jaws drop. ‘Why ... you are going back to
America
? What about us, Senorita?’

             
I look at
Rosa
and a lump forms in my throat. The thought of never seeing them again breaks me. ‘I ... I don’t know
Rosa
, I’m sorry.’

             
Troy
is talking rapidly in Spanish to Diago. He sounds angry.  

             
‘What?’ Diago cries, his face puce. ‘She want go – let her go. I don’t care.’ He glares at me. ‘Imadiago. I can get any woman I want. I don’t need
you
!’ He turns and marches of
f
.

             
‘Yeah? Well
fuck you motherfucker!
’ I cry and fling my bag
s
into the Jeep.