Dos Equis (21 page)

Inevitably, pity and sadness would cloud their faces. They would try to talk around it, ignore the obvious. Poor Jared was left with the burden of trying to make
them
feel comfortable. It was a burden he accepted as his new reality.

Until he met Frances Huber.

As I watched the goings on in the active rotunda of Toraidio Garza’s house, I was surprised to see that it was Frances who

approached Jared. Jared had been standing on his own. He was leaning against the outdoor railing, watching the far-off

twinkling lights of the hotels along Playa la Ropa. The plan had been to eventually dangle me or JP in front of Frances, hoping she’d find one of our carrots tasty. But as I neared the two, and heard what was transpiring, I knew that something wholly

unexpected was occurring instead.

“Those are quite the scars you’ve got there,” Frances bluntly pointed out. “Car accident?”

Jared gave her an appraising look before answering. “Something like that.”

“You don’t have to be uncomfortable around me,” she assured him in a kindly tone. “I used to be a nurse. I’ve seen burns

before. Yours aren’t so bad. And you’re lucky.”

“Lucky? How do you figure that?”

She eyed him with a small smile on her lips. “I don’t want to offend you by saying this.”

“Go ahead.”

“You’re the kind of man whose scars only make him sexier.”

Jared smiled. It was the same smile that had incapacitated countless people over the years. Including me.

“I hope your wife thinks so too,” Frances added, not a bit of coy in her.

I bit my lip. We had a three-pronged plan. We were going to reel Frances in using her weaknesses against her: art, respect,

and a hot hunk. Jared knew the plan as well as anyone on the team. JP or I was meant to be the hot hunk, but now…?

“Actually, I’m single.”

He did it.

Frances moved in a bit closer. “I can’t believe that.”

“Disappointingly, not every woman has a
Beauty and the Beast
fantasy,” he said light-heartedly.

Frances answered with a small smile. Her hand rose to his face. She touched the most pronounced of his scars, the one that

ran along the sharp line of his jaw.

“What would you say if I told you
Beauty and the Beast
is my favourite movie?”

“I’d say ‘
I want to do something for you...but what?
’” Jared recited, using his best Gaston-like voice.

Frances played along beautifully, following through with the memorable quote from the movie: “
Well, there’s the usual

things: flowers...chocolates...promises you don’t intend to keep...

”

They both laughed. I thought I might throw up a little. I turned and caught Anthony in the distance, also watching this

unforeseen development with keen interest. His brow was puckered, his mouth tight. For a moment, I enjoyed the rare sight of our aging matinee idol in discomfort. The man was jealous.

“How about lunch instead?” Jared asked.

Wordlessly, Frances reached into her purse and pulled out a pen. She drew close Jared’s hand, palm out, and began writing

her phone number there. When she was done, she stood on her tippytoes and kissed him lightly on the same scar she’d touched, then walked away. Not a bad exit, actually.

I came out from behind the movable screen I’d been hiding behind. I shot Jared a pointed
WTF!
look, and followed Frances back inside.

By time I caught up with her, I saw that Frances had re-joined Sereena. What I saw next made me shudder, as if icy water

were suddenly diffusing throughout every inch of my body.

Frances Huber’s cold, dark eyes were solidly locked on one thing.

My mother.

Oh God.
What have I done?

I fought an impulse to run over to the couch where my mother was innocently seated, and get her out of there, away from

Frances Huber’s murderous gaze. Instead, I counted to five very slowly, allowing my brain to catch up with my heart.

I felt a stirring in my pocket, and realized my cellphone was vibrating. Perplexed, I pulled it out while I searched for a quiet spot amongst the crowd, which seemed to have doubled in the past hour. With the exception of JP, everyone who had this

number was in this room. And JP wasn’t supposed to be calling me. I was to call him, only when it looked like Frances was

heading home.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Russell, it’s me.” JP’s voice. I could barely hear him.

“Is something wrong? What’s going on?”

“Well, I have good news and I have bad news. Which would you like to hear first?”

I was not in the game-playing mood. “JP, just tell me what’s going on. Are you okay?”

“Good news it is. I’m fine. And there is a ton of shit here, Russell. All sorts of papers and records that I think might help us once we have time to go through them all.”

“Okay, so what’s the bad news?”

“I’m trapped.”

Errall was at my side, trying to get my attention.

The room had gotten loud with revellers who’d been filling up on the free flowing champagne. I turned away from Errall,

putting a finger to my free ear in an attempt to block the noise and hear JP better.

“What do you mean you’re trapped?”

“Russell!” Errall was tugging on my sleeve.

“JP, I can barely hear you.”

“Russell, you need to hear this,” Errall insisted.

I turned on her like a viper on a tree frog. “Not now!” I hissed. “I don’t want to talk too loud.” This from JP. “Can you hear me now?”

“Yes, now!” Errall nearly screeched. “Frances is gone!”

My heart skipped a beat as I stared at Errall and processed the information.

“She left, Russell. She’s probably on her way home. You have to tell JP it’s time to get out of there.”

My eyes travelled the room in hopes of seeing the woman. But it was no use. The place was too full. I dashed through the

crowd, heading for the same private room I’d used before. Errall was close on my heels. As I ran, I yelled into the phone, “JP, you have to get out of there. Now!”

He said something I couldn’t hear.

Thirty seconds later, Errall and I were in the quieter room behind the curtain.

“What’s he saying?” she asked.

“JP? Are you still there?”

“Of course I am,” he replied, sounding frustratingly calm. “Like I said: I’m trapped.” Mercifully, I could hear him much

better without the background noise of the party.

“What do you mean you’re trapped?”

“There are two guys with guns standing watch over the front of the house. I can’t leave.”

I felt my cheeks drain of blood. Damnit! I knew it was too dangerous to send him in there. Why did I let him do it? “How can that be?” I asked. A stupid question, but I needed to say something while I thought about what the hell to do to help.

“I’ve been checking the front every fifteen minutes or so. Just in case.” Smart move. “Suddenly they were there. I didn’t

worry at first. I thought maybe they were a neighbourhood patrol or something like that. I assumed they’d eventually move on.

But they didn’t, Russell. They’ve been out there for the last forty-five minutes. They’re not going anywhere. And the front is the only way out of this place.”

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Shit! JP was right. There was only one way in and out of Frances’s house. By the front. The back of the house sat perched on the side of a jagged-toothed hill that led to nowhere but the sea.

I should have known Frances wouldn’t leave her home unprotected. Mexico isn’t exactly the most law-abiding place in the

world, and she knew it. Plus, she had valuables she was willing to pay to protect. Ironically, the valuables she was protecting

— her art—was not what this particular thief was after. But none of that mattered.

This was my fault. I’d spent hours canvassing Frances’s lifestyle, her neighbourhood, and her home, trying to get a sense of her habits and regular movements. When she left, I would always follow. I should have—at least once—stayed behind to see if

she had hired guns to look after her property while she was gone. Dumb mistake. And now JP was about to pay the price. Our

entire plan was about to blow up in our faces. All before it barely got off the ground.

Taking the time to give myself fifty lashes wasn’t going to help us now. I needed to think of a way to get JP out of that house before Frances came home.

“Russell, what is going on?” Errall wanted to know.

“Hold on, JP,” I said into the phone.

“Oh, sure, I’ll just hang out here for a while,” he replied with a bit of sarcasm meant to give me a smile. But he couldn’t fool me. I could detect a tremor of trepidation in his voice.

“He can’t get out,” I hurriedly explained to Errall. “Frances has hired guards manning the front of her property.”

“Oh fuck.”

“Nicely put, but not very helpful.”

She shrugged. “Okay, well, how big are the guards? If we hurry, maybe we can get there before Frances does. Between you,

me, and JP, we could take them down.”

“They’re armed with big guns. And I don’t think getting into guerilla warfare in the hills of Mexico is exactly the best idea right now.”

“Suit yourself.”

“JP?” I called into the phone.

“Uh huh?”

“Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to go out the back.”

“Russell, over the back rail is nothing but straight down.”

“I know that, JP. But you have to get out of there. There’s no other choice. The hill isn’t as steep as it looks. If you’re careful and go really slow, I know you can make it down to the water’s edge. Watch out for loose gravel and jagged rocks and...” I

was about to add snakes, but thought better of it. “...go as slow as you need to. Once you’re safely out of the house, there’s no rush. There’s no reason for Frances or her goons or anyone else to look down there. As long as you leave everything the way

you found it, she won’t be suspicious.”

“And what do I do when I get to the water?”

“Just wait. I’m going to find a boat.” I had no idea how in the world I was going to do that, but he didn’t need to know it.

“I’ll come get you. Don’t worry. You’ll be okay. Just wait for me there. We better not use cellphones though. I don’t know how much sound travels up the hills from the water.”

“Okay, babe. I’ll be watching for your yacht. Get the champagne chilling.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “JP, I’m so sorry I got you into this.”

“Are you kidding? I’m having a ball! This is even more exciting than the time I sold a pair of loafers to the Finance Minister of Saskatchewan on budget day.”

“You goof. I’m going to see you very soon. Okay?”

“Okay. Over and out.”

I hung up and looked at Errall with what must have been a crazed expression. “I need a boat. I need a boat driver. I need a

flashlight. I need a ride to Ixtapa. I need to have my bloody head examined!”

“I could have told you that. Come on, let’s go find a boat.”

I considered selling Sereena into servitude as a sexual slave, in exchange for what Toraidio Garza did for us that night. Within minutes of explaining the dilemma we were in, Errall, Jared, and I were in Toraidio’s chauffeur-driven limousine, speeding

toward the Ixtapa Marina. He’d arranged for his boat captain to take us out to sea. As it turned out, JP would get his wish after all. We were on Toraidio’s yacht.

When the craft arrived at the spot in the water near the hill where Frances lived, we were confronted with one big problem.

The boat was too big to get near shore. Although it was risky, I asked the captain to use his searchlight to scan land to see if we could spot JP. And indeed, there he was, waving with joyful abandon, as if he was Gilligan and we were a rescue boat.

I texted him, explaining what the problem was, and that we needed a few minutes to figure out a solution. Before we knew it, JP dived into the water and began swimming toward the boat. The distance looked unbearably far to me, the dark water too

unsafe. My own swimming skills were of the panic-stricken-dog-paddle variety. I’d been tested in this before. In particular, one horrible night, several years ago, in the hellish waters off the coast of Sicily *. I survived. But only barely.

All we could do was watch and wait.

And then there he was, his muscular arms reaching up out of the water for mine reaching down to him. I cannot remember the

last time I was so happy to see someone.

Unlike the rest of us who were in Zihuatanejo, JP was staying in a small hotel room in Ixtapa. He needed to be as close to

Frances Huber’s house as possible. Whenever an opportunity arose for him to break in, he needed to be nearby, at-the-ready.

That was where I took him as soon as our hearty captain brought us back to shore. I did feel a little uncomfortable leaving

Errall to explain to my mother why I wasn’t spending the night in the condo. But really. I was a thir…aw crap…a forty-year-

old man. I could do what I wanted. And I wanted to take care of my boyfriend.

As soon as we got to the hotel room, I stripped off his still-soaked clothing and put him in a steaming hot shower. Even though the outside temperature was balmy, the waters of the Pacific were not. When he was sufficiently warmed up, I put him to bed, closed all the blinds, crawled in next to him, and cradled him in my arms. For once, JP Taine was quiet. And then he fell

asleep.

And then I woke him up.

I’d had a hard time getting to sleep. My brain was racing a mile a minute, trying to figure out what the night’s happenings

meant to our plan. A horrible thought struck me. I needed to talk to JP right away. I tried nudging him gently at first, but the guy was a sound sleeper. I finally resorted to a shake. Then a more forceful shake. Then: “JP! Get up!”

He opened one eye, and said in a sleep-slurred voice: “You’ve just totally ruined a very nice Sleeping Beauty dream.”

“JP. I just remembered. Your knapsack! Where is your knapsack? The scanner…you didn’t leave it in the house did you?”