Yours
Page 3
“This is it!” Mimi said. The tires chattered over the rumble strips as we slowed down.
I was flabbergasted at how easy it was to get into Mexico. There was nothing in our way at all. Not even a single border patrol. We pulled up to an automatic gate that lifted up, and we drove right across.
“Wow,” I said. “That’s… that’s all it takes? They didn’t check our passports, or—”
“Easy as getting into a parking lot,” James said from the back. “It’s getting back out that’s tough.”
He thumbed back over at the exit lanes to get into America. On the other side of the highway, I could see American guards with guns lined up at every exit lane. Customs agents in protective plastic cages. Metal gates stretching fifteen feet high stretched over the sidewalk entrance. Barbed wire everywhere. The setting sun shone over the border wall, glinting off of the long line of waiting cars.
“Wow,” I said again. “So that’s it? We’re in Mexico?”
“Hell yeah! Tijuana, baby!” Mimi hooted.
“Uh, where are we going, exactly?”
“I know this club,” Mimi said. “It’s super nice. All the rich guys I know in TJ go there.”
“What’s the cover?” I hadn’t brought any money at all in my purse.
“For us? Are you kidding? They let girls in free as long as you don’t look trashy.”
“Too bad for you, Mimi!” April said, kicking the back of Mimi’s seat.
“Hey!”
Mimi laughed, and I began to laugh along. I didn’t know what it was, but as soon as we’d crossed the border into Mexico, it seemed like a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders.
Over here, I wasn’t plain old Jessica anymore. I could be anything I wanted to be. I could act however I wanted to act. On either side of the bumpy street, throngs of people made their way through the crowded sidewalks. There were fruit stands everywhere, and taco trucks on the corners of the streets. And a million other people who didn’t know anything about me.
I looked down at the tight red dress curving over my hips. This wasn’t the old me. I was doing something I wasn’t supposed to be doing, for once in my life. And it felt… liberating. Like a breath of fresh air. I rolled down the window, unbuckled my seat belt, and leaned out as far as I could.
“Viva Mexico!” I shouted, spreading my arms wide in pure joy. “Woooooooooooo!”
Chapter Five
Vale
When Valentina stepped into the private jet, it was all I could do not to gape. The way she strutted up the aisle made me think she was used to guys taking one look at her and popping their eyes out with a cartoonish AROOGA sound.
Long black hair flowed over her shoulders in waves pinned back loosely from her face. Her features were exotic. Maybe Asian, maybe something else. Her eyes were so dark that it looked like her pupils had swallowed the irises whole. She was wearing a fire-engine red dress with a slit all the way up, hinting at a smooth upper thigh.
She sat down across from me and crossed her legs. The plush leather seats in the small private jet faced each other, and I was pretty sure I knew the color of her underwear.
“You’re the man they sent.” It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway.
“You’re handsome,” she said idly, batting her long dark lashes. The jet engines started up and I glanced out of the window.
“Why do I get the feeling that if I say anything like that to you, something bad will happen to me?”
“You’re smart, too,” Valentina said, smiling. “El Alfa wouldn’t like you even talking to me.”
“Excuse me,” the flight attendant said, bending down over the back of my seat. “Would either of you like a drink?”
“The Napa Cabernet,” Valentina said. She’d obviously flown this plane before.
“Whiskey neat,” I ordered.
Valentina waited until the flight attendant disappeared into the back of the plane before leaning forward. Her cleavage spilled over the top of her low-cut dress. I had to focus on the space between her eyes to keep my gaze from drifting. Good practice, I told myself.
“What is your name?” she asked.
“Vale. We’re supposed to be—”
“Old family friends. Right. They told me. Vale and Valentina,” she mused. She seemed utterly unworried about the ruse. I wondered how easy this plan was going to be to pull off.
“So tell me about your friend. El Alfa,” I said.
Valentina shrugged.
“He’s a man,” she said. “He likes to fuck.”
“Anything else?”
“He likes to fuck rough.”
The flight attendant came back with our drinks and disappeared again. The plane was empty other than us, and it felt weird to be sitting in the middle of a half dozen empty seats. Valentina sipped her wine as the plane taxied down the runway.
“They said you think he’s responsible for some women going missing,” I probed.
“I don’t think. I know.”
“What does he do that’s so bad?”
Valentina’s eyes flashed with something like fear.
“He’s a bad man,” she said. “He hurts women.”
I lifted my whiskey glass and took a swallow. The amber liquid ran smooth and hot down the back of my throat, burning my stomach as it hit.
“You know why you’re bringing me there?” I asked.
She nodded slightly and recrossed her legs.
“They told me all about you,” she said.
“Is that right?” I took another swallow of whiskey. “Then you know I’m single.”
“Yes.” She pressed her lips together.
“What else do you know about me, Valentina?”
“Don’t patronize me,” she said sharply. The wine in her glass sloshed as the jet began to pull away, the engines roaring. Small planes were always so loud.
I frowned.
“What did they tell you about me?”
“They told me what happened to your last girlfriend,” she said. She didn’t look at my eyes.
My stomach turned hard as lead.
“They told you that?”
“They told me you killed her.” Now she looked directly at me. I would have been worried the flight attendant would hear, but the jets were so loud I could barely hear her myself. “They told me to be careful around you.”
I met her gaze as steadily as I could.
“That’s good advice,” I said.
“Is it true?” Her lashes fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings.
My fingers were gripped tight around the glass of whiskey.
“It’s true,” I said. The plane was moving fast now, the runway speeding by outside of the window.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you kill her?” Valentina asked.
The plane bumped once, twice, and then lifted off, its wings flashing bright in the Los Angeles sunshine. I felt my stomach lurch for a moment, and then the feeling stopped. I went to take another swallow of whiskey and found the glass empty. I stared blankly at the bottom of the glass.
“Because,” I said, “She tried to kill me first.”
The quickest way to Rosarito was through San Diego. We touched down and Valentina led the way out the airplane.
A black Jeep was waiting on the tarmac. I hopped into the back seat. Valentina ignored my hand and climbed in herself. She hadn’t said much to me after I’d told her about Jen.
“Where are we going?” I asked, once it was clear we were headed the wrong direction. The driver was silent. “The highway to Mexico is back that way.”
“There are cameras all along the border,” Valentina explained.
“Yeah? So how the hell are we getting across?”
Valentina only smiled as the Jeep pulled through a gated entrance and parked.
“Oh,” I said. I looked at the murky water and shivered. There was something about the ocean that always got my nerves up. “Are you serious?”
&n
bsp; “Easier than a passport,” Valentina said. She strutted down the pier to the end, where a white motorboat was waiting. A man in sunglasses stood at the front of the boat. The helm, or whatever the hell it’s called.
“Come on!” Valentina said, waving at me. I sighed.
“A fucking boat,” I said. “Of all things, a fucking boat.”
I clambered down onto the deck and sat down on the side of the boat Valentina was on. I looked around.
“Isn’t there a seatbelt on this thing?” I asked.
Valentina laughed. The man in sunglasses revved the motor, and I fell sideways as the boat lifted half out of the water with the force of the engine propelling us.
“Shit!” I cried, hanging onto the edge of the seat. We sped through the water, passing a dozen small sailboats and a couple of jetskiers. One of them waved, and the man in sunglasses waved back.
“You’re fine,” Valentina said. She shook her dark hair, obviously enjoying the wind streaming across her face. “Don’t worry, I’ll throw you a life jacket if you fall in.”
The boat lifted and fell in a gentle rhythm as it motored over the choppy water. I tried not to show my worry. Working for the Feds? Fine. Assassinating a guy? No problem. But Ten hadn’t said anything about having to get on a fucking boat.
“Is that the inside?” I asked, pointing at the door. “Can I go inside for this trip?”
“You don’t want to be inside the cabin,” Valentina said. “You’ll be seasick.”
“I’m already seasick,” I grumbled, holding onto the wooden railing. I shouldn’t have had another whiskey. I shouldn’t have had the first whiskey.
The boat sped out of the harbor. As we reached the open ocean, I saw something in the water.
“What’s that?” I said, pointing. It was a dark form emerging from the water. I swear to God it looked like the Loch Ness monster for a moment.
“Submarine,” Valentina said, completely unimpressed. We steered to the side as the dark shape rose up from the water, sending waves ripping through the ocean behind it.
Jesus. A submarine. It was huge. Sheets of water ran down the sides, and as we got closer, the waves from its wake made our boat bob up and down even worse. I held my stomach and tried to think of anything except what would happen if another sub came up right underneath us.
“Fuck,” I said, staring at the sunlight glinting off the dark waves. The boat swung out to the open sea. I guessed he was taking us in an arc to avoid any Coast Guard boats, but it looked like we were heading out into fucking nowhere. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
I was still swearing by the time we reached Rosarito. I stumbled off of the boat gratefully onto the pier. Even though I knew better, it felt like the ground was moving under my feet.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“Almost there,” Valentina said.
I looked around. This sure didn’t look like a billionaire’s mansion. Shacks with tin roofs and dingy stucco walls lined the beachside, and the people moving along the pier were dressed in rags, carrying buckets and nets. The smell of fish mixed with the smell of rotting seaweed.
We walked down to the edge of the road, where two men were taking fish out of their nets and another man was cleaning them. I stepped carefully around the fish guts, trying hard not to slip on the slick concrete. There was a dead dolphin washed up on the rocks near the pier, and a mangy dog was gnawing on the end of its flipper.
“This is not El Alfa’s place,” I said, bile rising in my throat.
Valentina, cool as a cucumber, raised a finger.
“Wait,” she said. As though on command, a limo appeared from around the corner. None of the fishermen even looked up from their nets.
We stepped into the limo and it pulled away. Behind me in the mirror, I could see the stray dog still pulling at the dolphin’s carcass.
“This place is nuts,” I said.
“It’s not bad,” Valentina said. “You wanted a job, didn’t you?”
“Sure. Of course.”
I leaned back in my seat. I was acting a part now. The part of a desperate man, eager to do any work that he could. Including whatever dirty work El Alfa had in store.
“Want another drink?” Valentina asked, pulling open the bar at the back of the limo. She poured herself another glass of red wine.
“No thanks,” I said, still thinking about the dolphin. My stomach was queasy from the long boat ride in the hot sun. I needed a shower. And a haircut.
We drove up the coastal highway. We passed broken down taquerias sitting right next to luxury high-rise condos. Both kinds of buildings were surrounded with high gates and barbed wire.
“I’ve never been to Mexico,” I said.
“It’s beautiful,” Valentina said. We passed a liquor store where a man was leaning against the wall, pissing into the gutter. “Well, it can be beautiful.”
“Is El Alfa’s place beautiful?”
“You tell me. We’re here,” she said, pointing. I looked ahead to where the limo was beginning to pull into the driveway through a swinging gate. Two guards stood on either side of the driveway with AK 47s at their sides. My eyes widened.
Through the gate, down the end of a driveway lined with palms and huge prehistoric succulents, was El Alfa’s estate. A white stucco mansion, it was built right into the side of the cliffs. It was all arches and terracotta tile roofs. The walls shimmered bright white in the late afternoon sunshine and ivy crept up from the terracotta pots. The huge mirrored windows reflected the waves in the ocean below.
Beautiful, sure. Surrounded by poverty and filth, but beautiful nonetheless.
As we drove up to the house, I saw four more guards walking in a patrol around the perimeter. We stopped in front of a white marble terrace with steps leading up to the front of the house.
I got out of the limo and watched as Valentina was helped out by two of the guards. She smiled at them and said something in Spanish. One of the guards gestured to me. I tried not to look like I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.
“Come on,” Valentina said. “He says El Alfa has a job for you.”
My heart beat fast. I didn’t know what I had been expecting. This was why I was here, after all. But now that it was happening, I felt like I was getting sucked into something more dangerous than I’d ever faced before.
Chapter Six
Jessica
“Stop fussing with your dress,” Mimi said. “It looks fine.”
“It’s way too short,” I said. I tugged my dress down and the top slipped, exposing way too much cleavage. I tugged it back up and the hem slipped up, exposing my butt. “Ah!”
“Don’t worry,” Mimi said. “Look at April. Her dress is way shorter than yours.”
“Yeah, but she has her boyfriend with her.” As though he’d heard us, James cupped his hand around April’s ass and squeezed. April squeaked and hit him on the shoulder.
“Come on, people,” Mimi said, snapping her fingers. “Look classy. This is a classy establishment.”
I looked up at the neon sign above the club. Bailamos. That’s what the place was called. In front of the door, a huge mountain of a man stood blocking the way. His black polo shirt read “Seguridad.”
“Follow my lead,” Mimi said. She strutted up to the bouncer. Her gold sequin dress fluttered at her thighs.
“Buenas noches,” she said, in an obviously American accent.
The bouncer looked over at the rest of us, sizing us up. He frowned at James, but April clung tightly to her boyfriend’s arm. Then he looked at me.
Oh, God. I never went clubbing. Never. What if he decided not to let us in because of me? I smiled nervously. The bouncer’s eyes slid down my body to my skirt. I tugged the hem down hard. Too hard.
My boobs popped right out of my bra and over the top of the tube-top dress.
April gasped. Mimi’s dazzling smile froze. I squeaked and yanked the dress back up.
“Oh my God, I’m sorry,” I said. I crossed my arms acro
ss my chest. “I’m sorry. I don’t. I can’t. I’m sorry!”
The bouncer started laughing, a booming laugh that made me turn even hotter with embarrassment. He unclipped the rope and winked at me as Mimi yanked us through the doorway.
“Wow, Jessica,” James said. “Why did you make me close my eyes in the car? If I’d known I was going to get to see the whole show anyway…”
“Shut up!” I hissed. Mimi and April were falling over each other in laughter in the inside hallway.
“Thanks for taking one for the team,” April said.
“Yeah, I am never letting you live this down,” Mimi chimed in. “The night Jessica flashed the bouncer to get us into the club!”
“What would your mother think?”
“Oh God, shut up,” I said. “Just let me get out of Mexico without flashing anyone else and I’ll be okay.”
“The night’s still young,” Mimi said, winking at me. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“How did I let you drag me into this?”
James pushed open the door to the club. Immediately the loud thrum of the music filled the air. Mimi led the way, in all her gold-sequined glory, and the rest of us followed behind.
I stopped dead in my tracks when we were inside. From the outside, I’d thought this was just going to be another seedy Tijuana nightclub. But Mimi had been right. This place was classy.
All around the room, there were thin ropes of lights strung across the ceiling, dimly illuminating the dance floor. Lasers pulsed from the front of the room in time where the DJ was standing. Waitresses in short black cocktail dresses moved between the tables around the edges of the club.
The men were in business suits, without exception. Some of them had taken off their suit jackets, but you could tell that this wasn’t a place for blue-collar workers. And the women…
“Whew,” James said with a low whistle. “You don’t have to worry about your dress being too short.”
He was right. All of the girls on the dance floor were dressed in the skimpiest, skin-tight outfits I’d ever seen. Most of them weren’t wearing bras, their nipples completely visible through the sheer fabrics. One girl who was dancing near us was wearing something that looked like it came out of a dominatrix catalog - tiny black leather straps stretching across her hips and leather nipple tassles.