GRINGA (28 page)

             
‘Kathryn,’ Depp interrupts.

             
She ignores him. ‘Your feminine charms – use that to draw him out, make him talk, Payton. He may want to impress you and he’s gonna tell you what he’s done, what he’s capable of and boom! He reveals incriminating stuff we can use against him.’

             
‘Kathryn!’ Depp sounds annoyed.

             
‘Especially if you
sound
impressed by … by who he is, what he says …what he’s don …’

             
Depp stand up, a
granite
look on his face.

             
Kathryn puts up both her hands in a surrendering motion. 

             
I nod slowly, a million thoughts flitting through my head. ‘I guess …’

             
‘Look Payton, ‘Ebyss says, her voice a little less irritable, ‘it’s simple – look great, be charming, act impressed and wham! Before you know it – he’s singing. ’

  
             
‘Like Samson and Delilah,’ I muse.

  
             
She nods. ‘Something like that.’

  
             
‘I’ll be Delilah off course.’ 

             
‘Yeah,’ Ebyss says, ‘he’d make a lousy Delilah.’

             
Everyone laughs. Thank God the place is soundproof.

   
             
She glances at my hair. ‘Maybe do something to … eh, make yourself feel better, more alive.’

  
             
‘Like what?’ I ask, touching my hair and wishing I had plucked my eyebrows or worn lip gloss, mascara, a push up bra …

  
             
‘Like, maybe have your hair done, have a facial, maybe some make-up - all the things that make you feel special and interesting. And off course, sexy.’ She seems to be choosing her words really carefully.

  
             
I look at Depp. He averts his eyes. I look at Grey, he too won’t meet mine. Somehow I don’t think they’re really comfortable with the “sexy” bit.

             
I’m not comfortable with that for sure, but what do I say. ‘Okay. I’ll have my hair done before I go back,’ I say meekly. ‘Haven’t had that done in ages.’

             
‘Great idea!’ Ebyss says, giving me two thumbs up.

             
I realise I don’t like Ebyss after all. She’s ruthless, driven and treats me with disdain.

             
It’s time to leave. Armed with a bag of listening devices they’ve showed me how to install throughout the villas and on the grounds, I walk out of the massage parlour, ignoring the tiny voice inside me that’s telling me I’m being used by my new friends.

  
             
Marcus looks anything but bored - he’s deep in conversation with another young lady behind the counter. She’s probably working with the FBI too.

             
‘I really like coffee but I don
’t
like drinking coffee alone. But I like coffee. You like coffee?’

             
The young lady wrinkles her lips. ‘I like hot chocolate.’

             
Marcus stiffens. ‘I like
hot chocolate too! I really don’t
like coffee.’

  
             
He sees me and frowns. ‘So soon, Senorita?’ 

  
             
‘But I’ll see you the next time?’ the young lady says in a soft voice.

             
‘Sorry Marcus, but I gotta do something about this,’ I say, ruffling my hair. ‘Hairdresser, please.’

             
Marcus nods. ‘Hairdresser. Let us go.’

             
He looks at the young lady. ‘Hot chocolate. Next time. I buy.’

             
She smiles and nods.

I have my hair trimmed, streaked, conditioned and straightened. It’s shiny and cascades down my back and I’m thrilled with it.

             
I decide to shop for sexy new clothes. For my mission, of course. 

             
I throw in a Manicure and a pedicure and I’m feeling very
Paris
right now. Invigorat
ed
and heady.

             
I buy chocolates and candy for Maria and Rosa
, a
t-shirt with the words
,
For sale, enquire within
f
or Marcus and tons of stuff for myself.

             
Marcus
grins and slips it on immediately. 

  
             
After a light lunch, Marcus and I head home, the bag of listening devices close by.

             
I’m scared and excited at the same time - imagine, I’ll be the one who brings down a cop killer, a murderer, a barbarian!

             
What a story for my children and grandchildren. Man, I can hardly wait for grandchildren.

             
Payton,
g
ringa, liberator of the people
of
Mexico
, of the enslaved.

             
I’ll probably get a plaque or a star …
somewhere
in
Mexico
. They might make a movie about me. Wow.

             
For the first time since I arrived in
Mexico
, I’m alive and energised.

             
Maria and Rosa rush out to greet us. ‘Lookiyou, Senorita! You look so nice.’

             
‘What did they do to you?’

             
‘You are wearing lipstick
, Senorita
.’

             
‘
Hey guys,
I have presents for you.’

             
They tear through my bags, pull out all my clothes and squeeze into the heels I bought, while eating their chocolates and candy.

             
As they sample the chocolates, I model my new clothes for them.

             
‘Senorita, you look beautiful,’
Rosa
says. ‘Like a movie star. A model.’

             
‘Is the massage,’ Maria explains. ‘Takes the blood through the body …’

             
‘
Si
?’

             
‘
Si
. Always make a girl veeery beautiful.’

             
‘Massage is good then,’
Rosa
says as she pops another chocolate into her mouth. ‘I have one tomorrow, then I look like you.’

             
‘Whew! It’s hot today,’ I say, fanning myself with my hand, keen to change the subject considering I never had a massage. 

             
Since the ranch is empty right now, I have full access to all the villas. Perfect time to plant the listening devices.

             
Luckily, because of modern technology, the bugs look more like watch batteries. To avoid any suspicion from Maria and Rosa, I whine about my missing passport and tell them that I’m sure Christa has it.

             
‘I’m going to search her villa for it,’ I say and leave.

     
             
As I walk I touch the silver neck chain with a heart-shaped locket pendant I’m wearing, given to me by the FBI. It houses a listening device and is to be worn at all times. Easy.

             
Christa’s apartment is like a love-shack - red satiny cushions, a four-poster bed with red tulle draped over it, tons of candles, a variety of sex toys openly displayed and a huge nude painting of her on the wall. Yuck!

             
A doll on the mantle piece makes me gasp. It has long blonde hair, blue eyes and vaguely resembles me. The problem - it has about one hundred
straight
pins stuck into it - voodoo-like and very creepy. If that doll is me, boy, she sure wants me dead. 

             
As I plant the listening devices, I make a mental note to get hold of some sage and keep it under my pillow – Enfermera style.

             
Once I’m in Christa’s villa, I’m able to slip easily into other villas and plant my devices.

             
Done. I’m now working for the FBI.

CHAPTER S
EVEN

It’s almost dinner time so I get ready. My dress is scarlet, short, strappy and figure-hugging, my heels are sling-back stilettos
, my lipstick is porn-star red.
I look in the mirror and smile. Then I kiss the mirror and say, ‘You’re smoking
,
Delilah!’ Finally I’m
confident enough
to face everyone at the dinner table. 

             
Five minutes later,
I yank off my dress,
kick
off my heels and
hurriedly
wipe off my lipstick. ‘You look like a tart!’ I say to myself, my confidence shaky
again
.

             
In
just my bra and panties I sit
on my bed and ruin a good manicure with my teeth.
This is so not me. But then I remember the FBI, the freedom of the villagers, my grandchildren and its back to my slutty dress, my hooker heels and my porn
-
star lip gloss. 

             
  I’m late for dinner so I hurry along. They better notice.
Diablo
better notice – these stilettos are pinching m
y toes
.
How the hell does
Paris
walk in six inch heels with such ease?

  
             
The moment I enter the dining room, conversation ceases. Diablo slowly rises to his feet, mouth agape.