GRINGA (42 page)

             
I
frown
– the stakes are way too high.

             
‘What? What you thinking?’

             
I stare at the ground a moment, then look up. ‘When?’

             
He tak
es his time answering. ‘Soon,’ he finally whispers.

             
I leave it at that.

             
‘Come,’ he says, taking my hand. ‘I sure I can beat you
at
running too.’

             
Normally, I would say, ‘Game on!’ But today, I don’t dare.

             
‘If you shoot both my knee caps during the race – duh!’

             
He chuckles. 

It’s morning. I saunter into the kitchen and am surprised to see Diago drinking coffee and
laughing with Maria and Rosa, who
are busy packing a basket.

   
             
‘Morning
Rosa
! M
orning Maria
!
’

             
I look at Diago and
shut
one eye. ‘Morning, Senor. Overslept? Don’t you have a village to burn down or something?’

             
He grunts
,
his eyes lighting up at the sight of me. ‘Today I take you to ...?’ He falters and looks to Maria for help with the word.

    
             
‘Picnic
!’
Rosa
yells
.

             
‘I know that,
Rosa
!’ Maria screeches.
‘He ask
me
! Because I
good for English. Better than you!’

             
That’ll teach
Rosa
to steal Maria’s chance to shine at English.

             
‘Sorry,’
Rosa
says, looking anything but
sorry
.

             
Diago and I exchange amused looks. Don’t mess with Maria at this time of the morning.

    
             
‘A picnic? But Diago, you
won
the bet and I lost. What about Senor Vito?’

   
             
He lifts and drops his shoulders and gives me a strange look. Is that naked adoration in his eyes? 

   
             
I’m suddenly shy and look away. ‘Okay, in that case I’d better change my clothes.’ I exit the kitchen,
thrilled to have
someone to spend the day with other than Maria and Rosa. ‘Maria, Rosa!
’ I holler over my shoulder, ‘m
ake sure there’s champagne in that basket!’ 

             
‘
Si
, Senorita,’ they chorus.  

We picnic on a grassy spot overlooking the water. What a day – the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, the views are breathtaking and Dia
g
o
has
taken the day off to spend it with me. What more could a girl ask for?

             
Over the next couple of hours, we talk about everything and anything. He tells me about his life, the drugs, the killings. I think he trusts me.
I like that.

             
Luckily, I forgot to wear the FBI listening device pendant today. I don’t want the Feds to hear all of this, anyway. I’m not ready to hand over Diablo right now. I’m having too much fun.

             
‘Is the way it is round here,’ he explains. ‘Is
our
way.’ 

             
‘Your way? But you must admit, you sometimes kill when it’s not necessary, right?’ ‘Like the time you shot me - that was
so
not necessary. That was like, overkill.’

             
‘I think you spy.’

             
‘
Spy, mff!
Poor intelligence there,
Amigo
. And you should be sorry.’ 

   
             
‘I am sorry, he says, lifting my hand to his lips then clutching it against his chest. ‘Very sorry.

             
‘What about the other men you killed? The policemen ...?’

             
‘
Si!
I kiiiill them.’ He shrugs
.
‘
So?’

             
‘
Diablo, they were old
,
they were
policemen
. That’s
like,
a big deal, you know.

             
‘No, not a big deal. They kill m
y
mo
t
her and father. T
hat’s a big deal. I watch them burn
m
y village for what? To get our land. I remember their faces. I remember the policeman
standing and watching as our village burned. I see their faces every night before I close my eyes and every night I promise my mother and father I kill them one day. And one day, I do it. I tell them who I am first before I ...’
H
e runs his finger across his throat.

             
‘Christ Diago!’ I
hastily
put down the bunch of red grapes I was eating.

             
‘My mother ... they shoot her in the back. Back
.
She run with
Troy
but they shoot her. In the back. My father, he push me under the house to save me. Tell me to hide. But is hot, the village is burning and I can’t stay under the house. The
n
I see them shoot him.’ He closes his eyes and falls silent for a moment.

             
I gently touch his face. He opens his eyes and stares into mine.

             
‘Tha
t
’s all, Payton. Is fair. They police, but they bad police They must die. No place for them on earth, here.’

             
‘What about Jimmy Gomez?’

             
He squints at me. ‘You know
everything
. Too much.’

             
I shrug. People talk you know and I
’m lucky I
have ears. Two of them. Did you really kill him and take his home?’

             
‘
Si
. The police work for him. He pay them. He ask my grandfather to sell him the land, my grandfather say no. He arrange to kill my family, all of them, then he take it. The police, they his friends. He pay them to look th
e other
way. I look at Jimmy and say, ‘One day …
one day!
’

             
‘Christ! What land you talking about?’

             
‘Tana Mera.’

             
‘Tana Mera?
You
stole
Tana Mera?’

             
‘
He
stole, not me. I take my family’s land back.’
             

    
             
“Wow!”

             
If the FBI heard this conversation, Diago would be spending the night behind bars. This is what they’re waiting for and I have it now. But it’s not recorded.
             

             
‘
You
wanted to burn Siempre,’ I remind him. ‘That was bad, uncalled for. Why did you want to do that?’  

    
             
‘’Cos I was st
upid
. Mad. I don
’
t know how to be good, Payton. I was born into this and this is my life. I kill or they kill me. You treat me bad, I kill you or you kill me. Is like that here. People say be good, be good - how? They no show me. Nobody show me.’

    
             
‘Yeah, but Diago,
I
am showing you how to be good, right?’

     
             
‘
Si
, you show me and I like that. I want be good for you,’ he says,
taking my palm and
placing
it
against his cheek.

             
A warm, heady sensation oozes through m
e
. As I look into his hazel eyes,
the feeling mutates in
to an urge to reach out and draw his head to my breasts.
             

             
But I don’t. Instead, I whisper, ‘Yeah, I like it when
…when
you are good.’

             
When we return to
the ranch, I
look at him and smile. ‘T
hank
s
for the lovely picnic
.’

             
He stares at me.

             
I step forward and give him a brief
hug.

             
He
returns the hug, crushing me to him. We stay
in each other’s arms
for a few moments
, basking in the warmth and tenderness we’re both feeling.

             
Then h
e lightly pecks me on the cheek
and quickly releases me
.