The One Way (Changes Book 1)

by Ted Persinger

  “Is there a good bar close by? Nice but not too expensive?”

  “I like Pool Bar. It about two blocks from here.”

  “Show me,” he said, and she pulled his arm and led him across the street. Down two narrow streets, they came upon a very nondescript, low-slung cement building. Inside, they found a room larger than it appeared from the outside. There were several pool tables, with people playing on a few of them. There was a mix of women and men here. There were no other gringos. He felt a bit nervous; a few of the men seemed like local toughs. Jeans. T-shirts. Cigarettes.

  “Is it safe here for me?” he asked.

  “Si, Danny. These people are my friends. Nobody hurt you here.” Indeed, as they walked to a table, several people greeted her. “Hola, Alejandra!” They all smiled at her. He felt bad for judging them. He knew he wouldn’t have thought twice in the US…he knew he had some preconceptions and biases to work on. With a second look, he saw they were simply regular folks, playing pool and having a beer in the afternoon.

  She led him to a table next to a pool table with blue felt. He ordered a whiskey and Coke, and she ordered a white wine. They settled into their seats, clinked glasses, sipped the cool beverages, and soaked in the air conditioning. He hadn’t noticed at first, but she put her hand on his. It felt very comfortable. He hadn’t had a soft hand on his since…that May day. It made him relax. He felt normal. He felt warmth. It wasn’t love, of course, but it was affection. And it felt good.

  “Do you want to play pool, Danny?” she asked. He smiled and nodded.

  She racked the balls, and he could see by her motions that she knew how to play. She slid the rack back and forth to tightly pack the balls. When she broke, he saw she was indeed a skilled player. Occupational skill, he supposed. He watched her move about the table. She was very lithe, balanced atop high heels and wearing a tight pencil skirt. She glided in her actions. She also measured up her shots and planned ahead, the sign of a truly good player. When she missed on her fifth shot, he felt she missed on purpose. She probably didn’t want to make him feel bad. After he missed his first shot, she began to miss obviously, and he felt good that she cared enough about his feelings to not humiliate him. Though she won, she gave him a chance to get back in the game.

  They again settled down at the table and worked in to their next round of drinks.

  “Why you come to Mexico, Danny?” she asked, pronouncing it Meh hee ko, and seemed genuine in her curiosity.

  “I like Mexico.”

  “You work here?”

  He realized she would press unless he gave her a story. Not wanting to share too much, he simply said, “I’m taking a vacation…from work. I just wanted to have some fun and relaxation.”

  “Where you go after Ensenada?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I might try to get to Cabo. Maybe Puerto Vallarta. Dunno.”

  “Those are nice places. You know anybody there?”

  He felt that question was loaded. “No, just want to see more of Mexico. I have not been many places.”

  “There are many fun places. I ha’ never been to Puerto Vallarta, but Cabo es very nice. I meet Sammy Hagar last year.”

  “Sammy Hagar?”

  “Si, he own a bar…Cabo Wabo. He play guitar and sing. I met him and his wife. They very nice people.”

  “I didn’t know that. How did you meet him? Didn’t he have security?”

  “No, it’s a small bar. I just say ‘hi’ to him and shake his hand. He very nice. He buy me drinks when he not playing his guitar.”

  “You saw him play also?”

  “Yes, he put on show with a few people. He play a few songs, then buy some drinks, then play some more.”

  “That sounds like fun. Maybe I should go to that bar.”

  “If you go Cabo, go to Cabo Wabo. Very good bar and lots of fun. Crowded very much.”

  He was half expecting her to ask to go along, but the question never came. She then racked the balls and started another game. It really began to hit him that he had prejudged her so easily. Though she was obviously a prostitute…a professional seller of lies…she was being kind and very generous to him. Was she expecting something in return? Maybe. Was she asking for something? No. But why had he been so quick to presume the worst? He had assumed she was a seedy girl who would get into his pocket through any trick she could play. Instead, she was kind, generous, and sincere. She was, in fact, more sincere than he had been to her. The only obfuscation had been on his part. The only ruses were his. Besides her pool game, she was much more honest than he. But…he knew he had to be careful.

  He surprised himself yet again. “Alejandra, I want to spend more time with you.”

  “What do you mean Danny?” She looked him directly in the eyes, without disguise. She leaned against her pool cue.

  “I mean, I want you and me to spend time together. Is that okay?”

  “But we are spending time together.”

  Did she not understand, or was she expecting him to proclaim what he was too afraid to say? “I want you to spend the rest of the day with me.”

  “Okay. What you want to do, Danny?”

  “I just want to be with you. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

  “Danny, I don’t understand what you want.”

  He finally had to say it, and his tone was a bit exasperated. “I want you to spend the night with me. I don’t mean for sex. I don’t think I am ready for sex. I just want to spend the night with you. Dinner tonight. Breakfast in the morning.”

  She looked at him directly again. Her eyes were clear. “Danny, do you know I am a prostitute?”

  “I figured…”

  “So you are asking me to stay with you and you wonder if I charge you?”

  “No, I understand you have to charge me. I understand…”

  She put her drink down, laid the cue on the table, and took his hand. “Danny, I like you. You are sweet. Maybe sad. I need to know if you want me to be a girlfriend or if you want me to be a bar girl.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “If you want to take me out and treat me like a girlfriend, then we can spend time together. All the time you want; I don’t ask for money. If you want me to spend the night for sex and to leave in the morning, then I am a prostitute and you must pay me. For most men, I am only interested in being a prostitute. For you, Danny, I would be more. But if you want me to be your girlfriend, you must treat me like a girlfriend. Do you understand?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “A girlfriend es someone you chase. Someone you care for. Someone you fight for. Someone you like, and then love. Prostitute es someone you have sex with becau’ you don’t have girlfriend or don’ want girlfriend. If you want me to be your girlfriend, you have to treat me like that. Right now, you seem half-half…you don’ seem ready to have girlfriend. Maybe because I’m prostitute and you feel embarrassed. Maybe because you don’ want one. I don’ know. But if you want me as girlfriend, you must act like boyfriend. You need to be a man I trust. If you cannot love prostitute, then you should only use me as prostitute. If you can forget my job and treat me like woman, we can have more.”

  Her words hit him hard. Fight for…trust. He wasn’t ready for those words yet. Inside, he knew he could not be those things for her. But he didn’t want to be alone, either.

  “Or we can just be friends, Danny. You’re a nice guy, and I would like you as friend too. Your choice.” She let go of his hand, and racked the table for another game.

  XVIII

  When the bus hit a succession of potholes, he woke, slightly, at first. He felt her head on his shoulder. Smelled her shampoo and perfume. He leaned his head against hers, bouncing lightly with the rhythm of the road. She did not stir. He adjusted himself in his seat, and looked around. They seemed to be entering the city. The bus ride had been interminably long, and even with bathroom and drink stops, his ass burned from sitting too long. The air conditioning could not keep up with the sun, and
he could feel the back of his shirt sticking to him and the torn cloth seat.

  Danny’s shame had a new face.

  “It’s okay Danny,” she had said. “It happen to many men.”

  He was in bed with Alejandra. She was beautiful. They had been kissing. Danny felt the warmth of her small body. Her softness. He had touched her…caressed her. He hadn’t felt those feelings for weeks, and it felt good to touch an attractive woman.

  Danny had sat on the bed. She held eye contact with him as she pulled her blouse over her head. Unzipped, then slid the skirt down to the floor, stepping out. She reached behind her and unfastened her bra. Her beautiful, firm, young breasts exposed. She had smooth, brown skin. Slim but not skinny. She smiled at him. She saw the lust in his eyes. She knew what he wanted, and she intended to give it to him. Then she slid her panties to the floor.

  She stepped to him, and placed her hands on his shoulders, moving him down onto his back. Their mouths met again. She opened his shirt, kissing where each button had been fastened. She unbuckled his pants, then pulled them down. Danny lifted his hips to help her. He was fully aroused, and she smiled down at him as she removed his boxers.

  As she took him into her mouth, Danny closed his eyes. Her warmth and movements felt luxurious to him. He felt the heat spreading across his skin. He was flushed, and he tingled across his entire body.

  And then he thought of her. Melissa. Bouncing golden curls. Sparkling gray eyes. Knowing eyes. How many times had he looked down and seen her in this position. He loved how she held eye contact, and smiled at him with her eyes. Now he looked down, and it was a new face. New eyes. Not her. Not his wife. It suddenly felt all wrong. The warmth ceased. Cold. Remote. He thought of her the last time he saw her, stiff hands bent around daffodils. Flower-covered coffin jiggling down into the black hole.

  “What wrong, Danny?” she said, softly. He looked down, and saw her holding his flaccid penis in her hand. He sat up slowly. She moved out of his way. He stood and walked to the window. Looked out at the city.

  “It’s okay, Danny. It happen to many men. We can wait until later.”

  “Yes…later.” There won’t be a later.

  “If you want, I know a place where we can buy medicine for you…”

  The wave of nausea hit him quickly. He grabbed the small garbage pail by the bed, and vomited into it. Vomit spilled out of his mouth and nose, and tears gushed out of his eyes. Then, he retched more…dry heaves. She pulled her blouse in front of her, and watched.

  I’m less of a man than I thought. I’m selfish, weak…I watched my wife die, and couldn’t wait to fuck a whore just weeks after. Self-reproach burned him, scalded his soul.

  Danny took the garbage pail into the bathroom, shut then locked the door. The last thing he wanted was for her to see him bawling like a child. But he cried. He cried for what seemed like hours. He felt the retching again, and more dry heaves twisted his guts. Moans. He felt exactly the same as he had then.

  Then.

  He was retching that May day. It had been hot that day too. He held a garbage pail between his knees, and he dry-heaved off-and-on for nearly an hour. Sheets of sweat and tears and snot mixed with his vomit.

  He didn’t go with Melissa’s body to the morgue. The young officer who first found him lying next to her on the hot asphalt put him in the back of his cruiser, leaving it running and putting on the air conditioning. He gave him a bottle of water, and stood by the open door as his wife was loaded into the ambulance. He talked in a soft, kind voice, getting the scraps of information Danny could tell him, and radioing in what he could. This young officer, slim and seemingly overloaded with his massive gunbelt did what he could to help Danny, but he was beyond consolation. After the ambulance drove away, he took Danny to the South Sacramento station. He never said a word as Danny shrieked and cried during the drive.

  They had put him in an interrogation room for privacy. He had sat in that room, vomiting and crying. He could see his pale visage in the large mirror. The stench of his body even overwhelmed him. His dried urine. His shame. His weakness was on display for them all to see. Some gave him eyes of pity. Some gave him blank stares. He could see the judgment in some. He couldn’t blame them at all. He felt the same disgust…the same revulsion. Weakness. Frailty. Fear. And…

  Cowardice. Yes, cowardice. When faced with it, all he had shown was cowardice. The man in him had leaped out when the gun pointed at him. Only the coward…only the weak-kneed wimp…only that was left. He knew his father would’ve fought. He knew Jim would’ve fought. He knew most would have pushed their wives behind them, even if only out of instinct.

  When Sergeant Madrigal came in to check on him, Danny was spent. He couldn’t vomit anymore. He couldn’t even cough. His sides ached. His throat rasped. He had no more tears to shed. His mouth was all cotton and swollen tongue. His lips stuck together.

  The sergeant didn’t give him a look of judgment, and only showed compassion on his face. It was a well-practiced expression.

  “Mister Shields. Here, have some water.” Danny took the Styrofoam cup and took a small sip, which lost itself in the desert of his throat. His hands shook, so he put the cup down. “I’m going to need a statement from you when you’re ready. I know that seems impossible to think about right now, but if we don’t get this down it could hurt the case. We want to make sure we catch these animals before they do this to someone else. Do you need more time?”

  “What…information…what do you need?” He didn’t recognize his own voice.

  “Well, first we’re going to need a good description. Officer Hutcherson, the officer that brought you here, radioed what you told him, but the more we have, the better. Also, we have a sketch artist who could create a composite sketch of these assholes…and we can give those to our officers and pass them on to other law enforcement agencies. If they’re still driving your Honda, we should catch them quickly; everybody is hunting for that car. If they dumped the car, the sketches might be our only tool.”

  “Do you think they’ll leave California?”

  “Well, if they steal another car, they have a good chance of making it out. If they stay in the Honda, probably not. But you never know. We once were looking for a murder suspect for three years, and we found him living just two blocks from the K Street station. He probably walked past cops every day. You just never know. That’s why we want to get them sketched and get those images out as far and as fast as we can.”

  “Yeah…yeah…I’ll do whatever you need. I can work with the sketch artist.”

  “Okay, I’ll send him in. Your brother Jim and friend Scott are downstairs; after the artist leaves they can join you. And listen…I know nothing I say is gonna make this better…but you shouldn’t blame yourself for what happened. I know that’s easy for me to say. Nobody knows how they’re going to react when someone points a gun at them. I’m a cop, but the first time someone pointed a gun at me I froze…and I’d had a lot of training.”

  Danny gave a wan smile, and he appreciated the sergeant’s efforts. His kindness. He wondered if the sergeant had any sense of how Danny had reacted. Was he hinting?

  “Anyway, just remember you’re human. Fear is natural…you didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t blame yourself. I see in you the same look I see in cops after an officer-involved shooting. You’re going to want to talk about this with a counselor, or someone you trust. The thing to do is to get it out and work through it, not keep it inside and let it destroy you from within. I’ve seen that happen far too often. Many cops find themselves self-destructing with alcohol or drugs. It can be like a cancer inside you.

  “Once we get the sketches made, I’m going to ask the chaplain to drop by and chat with you…the chaplain is good about helping victims get perspective on what happened.”

  But the good sergeant didn’t know. He wasn’t there. Neither was the chaplain. They didn’t see what Danny saw. They didn’t know what Danny knew. The responding officers hadn’t been told the whole stor
y. His mute stare left them to draw their own conclusions, which they gladly did. Danny didn’t answer not because of his shock but because of his shame. They had looked at him the way Officer Madrigal was looking at him now. Danny didn’t want to tell them…didn’t want to spoil their image of him as a grieving husband. He knew the math would change. Had Danny told them everything, he knew, those looks of kindness would shift radically, and he couldn’t take any more judgment. He had pronounced his own verdict. His cup ran over. He knew that day….he knew he would never…ever…escape the judgment. Nor should he. If anything, he knew he deserved something much harsher.

  “I think we are here, Danny,” Alejandra startled him when she spoke.

  “Yeah, I think we are. I need a drink.”

  XIX

  A quick taxi ride, and they found themselves in the Hotel Santa Fe. It was clean and cheap. The sound of revelers down the hall told him the walls were thin and he wouldn’t sleep well. Around the corner, they found a cantina, and Danny put down two Cuba Libres quickly. On his third, he began to relax. He put his head on his hand and looked into the drink in front of him. Alejandra only looked at him, sipping an orange juice. He knew she sensed his tension, but was kind enough to not call him out on it.

  He finally gave her a soft smile. “I’m okay. Just have a lot on my mind.”

  She gave him her stunning smile in return. “Okay, Danny. I know you think too much about things. If you want to tell me, I listen, okay? If you don’t want to tell me, it okay too.”

  “No, I’m fine. I just needed a couple drinks.”

  After another round, they paid and began to walk the streets of Cabo. When they had arrived, the streets had seemed quiet, but now in the afternoon the streets were filled with shoppers, and maneuvering through the crowd frustrated him immediately.