36: A Novel

by Dirk Patton

  “Then I guess the answer is that I’m going to Nogales. I’ll get my brother to tell me where he hid the drugs, and I’ll bring them across.”

  “You do not really believe they will give you money for your brother’s release, do you?”

  “No,” I said. “But my parents have money. I’ll talk to them when I get back. If I don’t do this, Tim won’t survive long enough to get sprung. They’ll have him killed.”

  Monica looked at me for almost a minute, then drained her beer and put the bottle on the floor next to her sandals.

  “Then here is what we do,” she said.

  “We?”

  “Si. We. You need my help whether you know it or not. Manny is sleeping over at a friend’s house tonight. I am going to stay here with you, and we are going to take my car and leave for Nogales in the morning. It is a four-hour drive, so we should go early tomorrow morning.”

  “No! Absolutely not! You are not coming with me. Way too dangerous!”

  I had spoken loudly and saw her eyes immediately flash with anger. That was the other thing about her. As beautiful, smart and good hearted as she was, she also had a classic Latin temper. She was not someone you ever wanted to try and tell what to do. Or not do. She jerked her feet out of my lap and curled them under her hips to sit forward and get in my face.

  “You are a big, dumb gringo,” she said, the tone in her voice warning me to keep my mouth shut. “I’m not going into Mexico with you. I have a child to think about, and no matter what I feel for you I’m not going to do something stupid and risk being taken away from him.

  “But I can drive you to the border. And after you come back and deliver the drugs, you’re going to need a ride home. How were you going to get there? Greyhound?”

  She was right. The money the two cops had given me was enough to buy a crappy used car that would probably make the trip. Renting one wasn’t an option as I didn’t have a credit card. But if I did that, I wouldn’t be able to pay the “fee” that would be required by the guards to let me see my brother. It would be much better if I didn’t have to worry about transportation.

  “Thank you,” I said in a slightly meek voice.

  “De nada,” Monica replied, smiling once again.

  “So, what exactly are those feelings for me you mentioned?” I asked, poking her a little but also hoping to hear that I was more to her than a booty call.

  “Plenty of time to talk about that when you get back.”

  She smiled and reached behind her, pulling the sundress off over her head. She was completely nude underneath. Leaning forward she grasped me firmly in her hand and pressed her face against mine.

  “First things first, mi amor,” she breathed.

  I lost track of time after that. We didn’t come up for air for what seemed like hours, and when I checked my watch I wasn’t surprised that it had been. It was nearly midnight. We had started in the living room, made a stop in the shower to rinse off our sweaty bodies, then had picked right back up in the bedroom.

  “What time is it?” Monica asked.

  I looked over at her. She was stretched out on the far side of my small bed, dark hair fanned across a pillow. Filtered light from a security lamp outside my bedroom window played off her bare skin, making it seem iridescent. Looking at her like that, I realized I could be happy lying next to her every night.

  “Almost midnight.”

  I put my watch on the wobbly bedside table and stretched out next to her. She rolled up slightly and threw her leg across mine, resting her hand on my stomach.

  “Sleep now,” she said dreamily, already drifting off. “We have to leave in a few hours.”

  The alarm on my watch woke us at 3:45. I was groggy and thick headed from too little sleep and a marathon session of love making. Monica sprang out of bed as if she’d just had a solid eight hours of rest. It took her less than ten minutes to wash, brush her teeth and hair and slip the dress back on.

  She sang something in Spanish while she got ready, low and soft. It was the first time I had heard her sing, and for a minute I stood in awe, just listening to her. Her voice was beautiful. She saw me watching her in the bathroom mirror and gave me a smile that whisked away all the cobwebs in my brain.

  By four, we were in her car and pulling out of the apartment complex’s parking lot. We stopped for gas at a small station just down the street. The night clerk was secure behind a thick sheet of bullet proof glass and I pushed cash through a sliding metal drawer, paying before pumping. Collecting my change, we hit the road.

  We made one quick stop in Tucson to top off the tank and get coffee. The time passed quickly. We talked the whole way, each of us learning things about the other that had never come up between the sheets. The more I learned, the more I liked this strong, beautiful woman.

  It took us slightly more than four hours to reach Nogales. Monica stopped in a small parking lot a hundred yards from the border crossing. I reached down between my feet and picked up the small duffel I’d brought along. Passing it over, I took her hand and looked into her eyes.

  “There’s a pistol and shotgun in the bag, and a thousand dollars in cash,” I said. “The shotgun is illegal, so don’t get caught with it. If you do, play dumb and blame it on me.”

  “Where are you coming back across?”

  “There’s a canyon about twenty miles to the east that cuts across the border. It’s in the middle of nowhere. I used to go hunting in the area. No roads. Probably there. I’ll call you when I’m back, maybe sooner if this shitty phone works in Mexico. What are you going to do while you’re waiting?”

  “Going to check into a motel so I don’t get noticed just hanging around. Be careful, and come back to me.”

  Monica wrapped her arms around my neck and held me tight as our lips met. The kiss lasted a long time, and definitely wasn’t the kind of kiss you share with someone who was just your fuck buddy. Heart lightened at the thoughts of things to come with her, I stepped out of the car and headed for the line queued up to get into Mexico.

  8

  It wasn’t visiting hours at the prison, but that didn’t deter me. Five, crisp twenty dollar bills disappeared into the guard sergeant’s pudgy hand so deftly it was as if they’d never existed. He barked some orders in Spanish, and after a thorough search I was escorted to a small room with a couple of tables and chairs.

  The furniture in the visiting room was bolted to the raw concrete floor. I took a seat and looked around when the iron door I’d come through banged closed behind me. On the opposite wall was another, identical door. A window, without any glass, looked out onto a courtyard that was mostly dirt with a few struggling weeds. It was covered with heavy, iron bars set into the wall’s masonry, and provided the only illumination in the room.

  Overhead, a squeaking ceiling fan turned lazily, stirring the hot, dusty air. Movement caught my eye and I looked at the window in time to see a rat poke its whiskered nose through the bars and test the air. It was the biggest fucking rat I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen some big ones hanging around the open sewers in parts of Iraq.

  Nearly an hour later, the door to my front clanged open and a heavily mustachioed guard poked his head in and looked around. There was nothing to see other than me and the rat, which was nosing along the far wall. He withdrew, and a moment later my little brother was roughly shoved into the room.

  “Cinco,” the guard shouted, staring at me.

  I nodded that I understood I had only bought five minutes of time with Tim. A hundred bucks doesn’t go as far as it used to.

  I stood as Tim walked over. He looked like hell. No, hell would have looked better than he did. He had been beaten. That much was obvious. Two black eyes. A nose so swollen it had to have been broken and not set. Bruises on his jaw and neck, and one ear crusted with blood where the large hoop he liked to wear had been ripped out.

  His clothes were in tatters, and he was filthy. I could smell him from ten feet away. But that didn’t stop me from stepping forwar
d and wrapping him in a hug.

  “What are you doing here?” He sobbed into my shoulder.

  “Trying to save your dumb ass,” I whispered back. “We don’t have much time. Your cop buddies came to me. They want their shit, and if you don’t cooperate they’re going to pay the warden to have you killed. If I take it to them, they’ll leave you alone.”

  “They’ll never leave me alone,” he said as we moved apart slightly. “I know who they are. I could testify against them. That’s why I won’t tell them where it is.”

  “Tim, listen. If I don’t bring that shit across, today, you’re dead. I looked in their eyes, man. They aren’t fucking around. Maybe they won’t have you killed at first. Maybe just peel some skin off or take your eyes. Whatever the gangs in here can do to make you talk, but these are serious guys.

  “Tell me where it is. I’ll deliver it, then I’ll get the money from Mom and Dad to pay of the warden and get you out of here. That’s your only choice. And we’ve got to hurry. That guard’s going to be back any minute.”

  I stared hard at him. Gave him the look I used when we were kids and he was being an ass about something. The look that told him he’d better do what I said or shit was going to get a lot worse. He stared back at me, bloody snot alternately appearing and disappearing in his nose as he breathed. Finally, he nodded and looked down at the floor.

  “The Pink Pussy,” he mumbled. “It’s a whorehouse on the western edge of town. Know it?”

  “No, but I can find it.”

  “In the back parking lot is a beat to shit Ford Ranger. Black. The shit is in a false compartment behind the seat.”

  His head was hanging down and he stared at the floor as he spoke. I felt for him, but at the same time I was angry with him for having made his own mess.

  “Keys?”

  “Stand at the rear bumper and walk ten yards straight out into the desert. Look for a rock shaped like Texas. They’re under it.”

  I was surprised. This was a simple, yet effective trick to not have any ties to a vehicle on you in case you were arrested. Not that it would keep some local kid from breaking out a window and hot wiring it, but it showed more cunning than I thought Tim possessed.

  “Anything else I need to know?” I asked as the interior door clanged open.

  “Come back for me. Please, Bob! Don’t leave me here!”

  The guard had walked into the room and began shouting at Tim, gesturing at the open door with his billy club.

  “I’ll be back for you,” I said as the guard grabbed his shoulder and propelled him away from me. “I promise.”

  I watched him disappear through the door, the guard still yelling. When it slammed shut, I let out the breath I’d been using to contain my anger. Turning, I pounded on the exterior door. There wasn’t an immediate response so after half a minute I pounded again. I was getting pretty worried, five minutes later, when I finally heard the sound of a key scrape in the lock.

  The door was yanked open and the guard sergeant stood blocking my exit to freedom with his bulk. I stepped closer, wanting out of that room nearly as much as I’ve ever wanted anything, but he didn’t budge. Just held his hand out and smiled.

  With a sigh, I reached into my pocket and thumbed five more twenties off the rapidly shrinking roll of cash. I did it so he couldn’t see how much I had. When I held it out, the money disappeared as neatly as the first hundred I’d given him and he stepped to the side and made a grand sweeping gesture for me to exit.

  I walked through, keeping a close watch on the club tightly gripped in his hand. If he started to swing, I was going to fight. The odds weren’t good that I’d be able to overpower him and make it out of the prison’s gate, but I wasn’t going to willfully submit to a beat down either.

  The air was hot and dusty and heavy with the stink of rotting garbage when I walked through the gate, but after being inside the prison it tasted as sweet as a mountain meadow in spring. Behind me, I could hear the low roar of the prisoners going about their daily business within the high walls. A voice rose above the babble, screaming in pain, and it took all of my self control to not turn and look. I just wanted the fuck away from this place.

  Half a block from the prison I saw two ancient Chevy pickups parked at the curb. Their drivers were sitting on the lowered tailgate of the one in back, smoking and talking. The two trucks were as much rust as not, but all I cared about was that Taxi had been crudely hand lettered in black paint on their doors.

  “Pink Pussy,” I said, walking up to the two men and holding a single twenty up for them to see.

  One of them leapt down and dashed forward, smiling, reaching for the money. I pulled it away from his grasping fingers and shook my head.

  “When we get there,” I said with little doubt he understood the meaning even if he didn’t understand the language.

  He nodded and smiled, chattering away in Spanish as he escorted me to the lead pickup. Once I was seated, he slammed the door and ran around the hood to climb behind the wheel. The engine wheezed to life and we were quickly rolling, a dense cloud of blue smoke hanging in the air behind us.

  “Pink Pussy!” He said excitedly, smiling as he took his hands off the wheel and mimed masturbating with both of them.

  “Pink Pussy.”

  I smiled back at him and nodded. He said something else in Spanish that I didn’t have a chance in hell of understanding, then remained quiet for the remainder of the drive across Nogales.

  The town isn’t large and it didn’t take us long. Buildings were thinning out, replaced by tar paper shacks that lined the road. Women were doing chores while children played in the dirt. I didn’t see any men, and that was fine with me. If someone was going to start a problem, odds were it would be a guy, not a woman who just wanted to get her work done.

  I wasn’t sure what to expect, but when we rounded a curve in the dirt road I was surprised to see a relatively new building with a paved parking lot. A massive billboard fronted the street and I was amazed when I got a good look at it. It was a full color photo of three naked women, each in a different pose that fully exposed their genitals.

  Hell, not just exposed. Their genitals were the focus of the camera. Two of them were giving blow jobs, the men mostly cut out of the frame except for the important parts. The third was smiling away as she lay on her back on top of a man who had his cock deep in her ass. Across the top of the billboard, in six-foot high, neon pink lettering, were the words Pink Pussy.

  I shook my head, frankly a little shocked. Not that I’m a prude, by any stretch of the imagination. No, not even close. But my travels had been mostly limited to Arizona, then basic training in Kentucky followed by deployment to the middle east. None of these places, especially the middle east, would have ever tolerated such a public display.

  Shaking my head, I pulled my eyes away from the sign and motioned for the driver to head around the side of the building. He gave me a funny look, but did as I asked. At the very back was the truck. I breathed a sigh of relief that it was still there. But then looking at it, even from a distance, I could tell why no one had taken it. It made the rattletrap rust bucket I was riding in look like a shiny new Cadillac.

  Telling the driver to stop, I handed him the twenty, thanked him in my clumsy Spanish and stepped out onto the hot asphalt. I stood there until he drove away, looking around to make sure no one was watching. Everything looked clear, so I walked over to the ancient Ranger and peered in the driver’s window.

  It was about what I expected. The seat was more duct tape than fabric and springs were poking up in several places. A battered plastic seat cover was in place for the driver, probably to keep a seat spring from doing what the guy on the billboard was doing to the girl. Half the dash was missing, exposing metal braces and wiring. The steering wheel wasn’t original, and appeared to be held on by only a rusty nut with some wire wrapped around it.

  Stepping back, I looked over the exterior. There was not an inch of sheet metal that wasn’t den
ted, creased, torn or rusting. The back window was shattered, nothing more than a jigsaw puzzle held together with a liberal application of duct tape. The ground was visible through several large holes in the bed where rust had eaten completely through. At least the tires were good. Not new, but still plenty of aggressive, off-road tread on them.

  Moving to the back bumper, I put my butt against the tailgate. Looking straight ahead, I started pacing. Stopping at ten, I cast around until I spotted a rock that looked vaguely like Texas. If Texas didn’t have a panhandle and was all smushed in from each side. But it was the right rock. When I turned it over, a small scorpion slowly crawled away, leaving a pair of silver keys embossed with the Ford oval emblem.

  I walked back to the truck, looking around to make sure I still didn’t have any observers. The key fit and I pulled the door open and took a step back. What the fuck was that smell? Wet, dead dog? Maybe three-week old vomit that’s been baking in the sun? Throw in a good healthy piss and let it heat up in a black vehicle in the sun and you’d have the sickening miasma that assaulted me.

  Taking some deep breaths, I slid behind the wheel and started breathing through my mouth. Glancing at the gear shift, I pushed in the clutch, knocked the lever into neutral and turned the ignition. To my great surprise, the engine started easily and immediately settled into a smooth idle. I revved it a couple of times and it responded instantly.

  “Smuggler’s Truck,” I thought to myself. “Make it look like an absolute piece of shit, but the part that counts, the drivetrain, is maintained and will get you where you need to go.”

  Leaving the engine running, I stepped out and was immediately grateful for the fresh air. Leaning in and holding my breath, I tilted the seat back forward and began searching for the hidden compartment Tim had said was there. It took me twenty minutes of banging around and pulling panels off with a rusty screwdriver that was in the glove box, but I found what I was looking for.