GRINGA (45 page)

    
             
Around lunch time, Diago
barges into
my room.

             
‘Hey
Diago
!’

             
He scoops me off the floor, swings me around and we collapse onto the bed laughing.

             
‘Whoa!’

             
He cradles my head like you would a baby and plants little kisses all over my face. ‘I think of you all the time,’ he confesses. 

             
‘Yeah? But last night ...?’

             
‘They don’
t
leave!
I’m s
orry.’

             
I believe him. He’s doesn’t lie – he’s too arrogant to do that. 

             
‘I keep looking at your room last night. I see the light is on. I don’t want you to turn it off because then I know you sleep. But then I see it go off and I get angry with them, with Christa. But what can I do? So ... today ... I
bring
you a present.’

             
‘A present? For me?’
I scramble to sit up, shut my eyes and put out my hand.

             
He sits up, removes a box from his pocket and hands it to me. ‘Open it.’
             

             
‘Oooookay.’ I open the box
and gasp. ‘Ohmigod! It’s gorgeous
.
’ It’s a gold necklace with a diamond pendant in the shape of two tiny cupid angels with arrows pointed at each other. It’s heavy and looks really expensive. 

             
‘This is soooo beautiful Diago,’ I say, caressing the pendant. ‘I’ve never seen anything like this before.’ I fling my arms around him
.
‘Thank you!’ 

             
‘Is a “
S
orry” gift,’ he says.

             
I
jerk back
and look at him. ‘Sorry?’

             
‘For eh ...’ he averts his eyes, ‘for ... hurting you … make you …cry.’

             
I look away, uncomfortable with the reminder that he was my tormentor at one time.

             
‘Payton?’

             
‘I ... um ...’ I look at him and
grimace a
smile.

             
‘Lemme put it on for you,’ he says, taking the necklace from my hands. Then he reaches for the FBI’s chain around my neck and in true Diago fashion, rips it off my neck and flings it on the table. It lands in a glass of water.

             
The listening device!
Fuck!
I look at it but do nothing to retrieve it.

             
He steps behind me
,
puts his chain around my neck
and
runs his hands slowly over my breasts, my stomach
, my thighs
. ‘Do not take it out
, ever,’ he whispers.
 

             
‘Okay,
’
I say, fingering the pendant.’

             
‘Now I have to go.’

             
‘So soon?’

             
‘Senor Vito, he wait for me.’

             
‘Senor Vito? Still? What are you learning
now
?’

             
He averts his eyes
.

             
‘What? What?’

             
He rubs his chin and jerks his neck around. 

             
‘What? Tell me. Come on, tell me.’

             
He takes a deep breath. ‘Sex.’

             
‘Sex?’

             
He nods and wriggles his eyebrows.

             
‘What ...?
How ...?’

             
He teach m
e how ... what to do with women. Ho
w to …to please them?’

             
Really? I didn’t know your syllabus covered sex-education? And
“W
omen
”
? What
“W
omen
”
?’

             
‘You tell me ... I lousy lay, remember?’

             
I cover my mouth with both hands as I remember my conversation at the rock pool. ‘I ... um ... Christ!’ My face turns beet.

             
He chuckles at my embarrassment.

             
             
‘Well ... then ... ’

             
He laughs and hugs me. He has a really nice laugh
- d
eep, manly, throaty
and I like the way his
s eyes crinkle when he laughs. ‘I see you later, eh?’

             
I nod. ‘Are there going to be any practical lessons?’ I tease, trying to picture Senor Vito touching Diago, showing him erotic spots, teaching him how to kiss. Maybe
Senor Vito is
gay?

             
‘
Si
.’

             
‘“
Si
”?
’

             
He nods
.

             
‘Senor Vito
…
he’s gonna give you
practical
lessons?’ 

             
‘
Si
.’ His
adamant
tone
confuses me.

             
‘
Diago, h
ow the hell ...?’

             
With a gleam in his eye, he opens the door and jerks his head towards the courtyard. 

             
I look outside and turn moss green when I see the sexy Senorita standing
next to
Senor Vito. ‘She?’

             
He wriggles his eyebrows at me. ‘
She
my teacher today,
si
?’

             
‘She …
She? T
hat’s not a skirt, that’s a bloody belt she’s wearing
as a skirt.
And who wears stilettos
that
high
in
the middle of the day?’

             
More wriggling of his eyebrows.

             
‘Mff!’

             
The senorita
spots Diago
,
sensuously hitches up her
bra
strap
then blows him a kiss.

             
Diago grins like a fool and waves back.

             
‘Diago!’
I snap.

             
His tries to stop grinning and fails.

             
‘Mff!’ 

             
‘You jealous?’

             
‘No! Off course not! No.’

             
He chuckles like a naughty schoolboy. ‘
Hasta
la
Vista
,’ he says and steps out of my room.

             
I almost slam the door on his smug, clean-shaven face
as his laughter rings in my ears.

While he’s touching and hugging his skanky teacher who is,
I’m in the kitchen eating ice-cream with homemade chocolate sauce and a generous sprinkle of nuts. Oh and there’s two wafers and some
glacier cherries
.

             
Calories? Who gives a fuck about calories?

But I’m wondering – is Diablo going to
kiss
his teacher during his lesson? Will she strip down for the lesson? She seemed so familiar and so happy to see him – do they know each other on another level? How come he’s not so reclusive anymore? I stab at my ice-cream. ‘Fuck!’

             
‘
What is it?
’
Rosa
asks, shocked at my outburst.

             
I didn’t realise I cursed out loud. ‘Nothing ...’ I say and glance sulkily at the villa Diago’s in.

             
‘Aaaahhhh! You are jealous, Maria says and nods. ‘Good.’

             
‘No! Absolutely not. No, no no … ’

             
The two ladies gossip about me in Spanish.

             
‘I’m still in the room. Hello!’ I grab the carton of ice-cream and storm out of the kitchen.
             
Damn! I forgot the chocolate sauce. I turn around, grab it and head to my room where I sulk between spoons of ice-cream.

             
Then I reach under my bed, remove the listening device and fling it out of the window.  ‘I don’t give a rat’s ass - I’ll face the consequences later,’ I shout through the open window.

             
A few hours later, Diago returns.

             
I scan his face for – whatever – signs he has enjoyed his lesson, wants to have another lesson anytime soon, in love with his fucking tutor ...