GRINGA (82 page)

             
I hate going back to Siempre but I have no choice. 

             
Telling my family is hard. ‘I want to go home to
America
,’ I say, my voice small and hoarse. ‘Diago is … well, it’s not working out.’

             
Elaine’s eyes light up. ‘Okay, maybe now
Austin
will also want to go home as well.’ It’s obvious she doesn’t care enough to probe me for details. Right now, I’m thankful for that.

             
‘Your father and that hussy …’ Elaine shakes her head. Ah, no wonder she is preoccupied. That, and the fact that I may tell my father about her rendezvous with Tongue.

             
Paris and Elaine have moved into a larger house across the street, while my father still lives in the original house. I get the impression the Senorita is a regular there. In a way, I feel sorry for Elaine. She is looking rough, old and, well, scorned.  

             
‘He dumped you, right?’
Paris
says, a huge smirk on her face.

             
I stare at her. No use talking to her, she won’t get it.

             
‘I knew it! I knew it! They all dump you eventually, Payton,’ she says, in a gloating voice.

             
Again my brain has a million retorts but nothing emits from my mouth. I guess I’m mute with misery.

             
‘Don’t worry,’
Austin
says and smoothes down my hair. ‘You’re always welcome in my house.’ He hugs me longer than I want to be hugged, kisses my hair and whispers, ‘I’ll be there when your nights are lonely. You will forget him. I’ll make sure.’ His voice is now leering. Ugh. Reminds me of Tongue.

             
I try to pull away but he holds on, his fingers digging into my waist. 

             
Eventually, I break free from his unwanted advances. I don’t want anyone’s arms around me. Except Diago’s. Already, I miss him so much. I want to be alone - alone with my misery and my aching heart. Immediately, I slip into bed, cover my head with a sheet and pretend I’m asleep. That way, I don’t have to talk to anyone. The bed is hard, cold and I wonder how I’m going to sleep here.

 
             
I toss and turn. How could Diago betray me like that? I doubt everything he’s ever said to me right now. Fucking liar! I hate him. I hate him with all my heart. I wish him dead. I loathe him.

             
Furious, I thump my pillows several times. I think about Santana and I find myself literally cringing. How could I cause her so much pain? Why didn’t I take note of what she said? I hurt her. God, I feel terrible to have done that. I wish I could tell her how sorry I am for entering her world and stealing her husband, her life. A different kind of identity theft. What an idiot I was.

             
I thump my pillow again. I deserve discomfort, pain, all the angst I feel right now for hurting another woman.

             
Opium …oh God, just a little. It would help so much.

C
HAPTER SEVENTEEN

9AM. I get up, refuse breakfast and make frantic arrangement for flights to LA. There is one tomorrow afternoon at three pm. That’s ages from now. ‘I’ll take it,’ I say. By the time Depp and Grey discover I have left
Mexico
it will be too late. Let them get me in
America
. I don’t give a fuck.

             
I play with Liam a bit, listen to Paris and Austin hurling hurtful insults to one another, dodge more unwanted advances from Austin and finally go back to bed. I can’t function or concentrate while my heart is in pieces. 

             
I think about
Troy
, Maria and
Rosa
. Gringa Two. I turn and face the wall. I miss my home – Tana-Mera.

             
Diago. Don’t think about him. He’s bad news. I’m better of without him. I will forget him. I put a pillow over my head to block out the light.
             

             
Paris
shakes me. ‘Payton, get up! He’s gone crazy.’

             
‘Wha ...? ’ I rub my sleepy eyes and peer at her. I must have dozed for a while. ‘What is it?’

  
             
‘It’s Diablo – he’s here and he’s looking for you.’

             
I squint at my watch – 3
AM.

             
‘Yeah, you’ve been sleeping all day,’
Paris
says.

             
I stare at her. ‘Diablo’s
here
?’

             
‘He’s gone nuts, Payton. He went to our old house looking for you. He didn’t find you there so he’s waking every friggin’ house searching for you.’ She runs to the window and peeps outside. ‘He’s threatening to kill anyone hiding you.’

             
‘Oh Fuck!’ I jump out of bed and fish around for my shoes.

             
Liam is screaming his head off because of all the noise.

             
‘He’s scaring Liam, goddamn it! You’d better get your ass out there and stop him.’

             
‘Okay, okay!’ I say and dive under the bed for my shoes.

             
She runs to the window and looks outside again. ‘Ohmigod! He’s got a gun!’

             
‘A gun? What the fuck?’

             
‘Payton! I hear him shout.

             
I dash to the window and look outside. He has a gun in one hand and a piece of paper in the other.

 
             
‘What the hell’s wrong with him?’ I whisper.

             
‘Gringa!’ I want to show you this!’ he says, waving the paper in the air. ‘Then I’m going to farkin kill you because you ... you break my heart! I’m going to cut your throat. I’m going to strangle you. I’m going to shoot you in the …’

 
             
I draw my head back into the room and look at
Paris
.

             
‘Think he will?’ she asks, her eyes large.

             
I sigh. ‘I need to find my shoes,’ I say. ‘Anyway, who gives a fuck whether I live or die?’ I mutter.

             
‘I do.’

             
I jerk my head to look at
Paris
.

             
‘You’re okay,’ she says in an unusually sincere voice. ‘It’s just been hard living in your shadow all these years, that’s all.’

             
‘Living in …living in
my
shadow,
Paris
? You serious?’

             
She nods. ‘You’re hot Payton. Smart, sassy, sexy. Comes like, so naturally to you.’

             
‘Hot? Me? You high or something?’

             
She shakes her head. ‘Guys only like me the first five minutes, then they’re bored. I make a good first impression. But you – once they get to know you – they’re yours forever.’

             
‘This coming from
Miss
Los Angeles
Diva 1999
? Where the fuck’s my shoes?’

             
‘That means nothing. You don’t need that title. You’re a nice person too. Confident. Thank God I got some looks or I’d be pathetic, like my mother.’

             
I squint at her. ‘You gonna die soon
or something
?’

             
She shrugs, then gazes out the window. ‘He loves you so much. I envy you. No one’s ever loved me like that. No one’s ever made a fool of himself over me like that. So old fashion. So romantic. Big, strong, ugly beast reduced to a pathetic, love-sick puppy
.
I dream of a love like that.’

             
I look out the window at my big strong, ugly beast and smile. He’s beautiful. He’s massive and sexy and ... a fucking swine. Still, I love him enough to ache. 

             
‘Go to him, Payton,’ she says in a melancholy voice. ‘Work it out.’

             
I look at her and it dawns on me that she has lost her husband and her lover (Tongue) in a short space of time. Rejection plus.

             
I stare at her and resist the urge to give her a hug. What the hell made me want her life in the first place? Why was I ever jealous over her? I must have been nuts to envy her.

             
‘Talk later,’ I mumble and hurry outside. Diago’s back is to me, his threats peaking.

             
‘Diago!’ I whisper loudly. ‘What’s going on? Are you drunk?’

             
He spins around to look at me and his shoulders drop. He takes a step towards me. ‘Gringa ...’ For a moment his voice is soft and wistful.

             
But he quickly snaps out of his mushy mood and thrusts the page in his hand at me. ‘This here, look ... look
!
’

             
He makes no attempt to cut my throat, strangle me or shoot me. The villagers
creep into the street, hide in the shadows and watch.
I guess they want to see how Diablo is going to finish off the gringa. 

  
             
I take the page from him and peer at it. ‘It’s in Spanish, Diago. What the
…
?’

  
             
He stabs the page with his index finger. ‘My divorce. I go to the man and I wake him and I brung him for you.’ 

  
             
‘I don’t believe you are …what man?’

 
             
He jerks his head towards his Jeep.

             
I peer inside and see a figure in the passenger’s seat. I look at Diago. ‘Who …?’

  
             
‘He don’t want to come, but I force him.’

             
‘What
?
’

             
‘Go, ask him. Go!’ 

  
             
‘Diago, you
forced
a man to come here? From his house? At
three
in the morning? You can’t do that. That’s kidnapping. You’ll go to jail for that.’