GRINGA (9 page)

             
My father exhales loudly and looks even more pained.

             
‘Daddy?
Please …
’
If ever I needed my father’s help, it’s now. ‘
This is huge, daddy, I can’t do it. Tell him to take her,’ I say, pointing to
Paris
. ‘She pre
tty -
Miss LA Diva 1999
. Tell him, I’m plain and vulgar and shy and I almost got expelled …’
When
I see my father’s shoulders sag
, I stop
.
F
eeling ditched and resentful that he isn’t able to help me
a
gain
, I back off
.

   
             
‘He’s giving us till seven,’ Jack says quietly, fuelling my pressure.

   
             
I look at the clock. Six fifty five. ‘Seven!’ I jump out of my chair and start pacing. ‘
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
’

    
             
Austin
turns to Carvil. ‘Payton shouldn’t have to …’

   
             
‘
Austin
!’
Paris
snarls. ‘The Devil will kill you if you interfere. D’ya wanna die
Austin
? You have a baby. His name is Liam,
remember?
’

   
             
Austin
clams up.

             
Elaine walks up to me
and gives me a saccharine smile.
‘Payton dear, it won’t be forever. Just until things settle, dear. He might get bored of you after …’ 

             
‘After what Elaine - killing me? Eating my fleshy parts? Making a tea strainer out of me? One hundred years?’

             
Her smile vanishes.
‘Payton! Now you listen to me,’ she snarls. ‘You can do it. You are tough, you
’
re a fighter. You are ...’

             
‘Elaine please, you’re sounding like Mike Tyson’s coach now. I’m not that tough. ‘I’m scared, okay?
I’m
twenty one
for fucks sake!
’

    
             
‘Snap out it. You’re never scared. You’ve always been fearless.’

             
‘
You’re wrong
, y
ou’re wrong, you’re wrong
!
You don’t know me
, Elaine
.
’

   
             
Diablo stands up
, looks at me
and starts to walk away.

             
The
clock
on the wall says 7 PM
.
‘
Fuck!
’

             
The flame-thrower takes his position and aims directly at the villagers. Screams of terror fill the air. I too am terrified of burning to death, but right now I’m concerned about the villagers rather than myself. 

    
             
‘W
ait
!’ I scream, running after my murderer. ‘J
ust wait
!’

             
He stops but does not turn around. The flamethrower mutterers angrily when Diablo raises a calloused hand. Behind me, the villagers exhale
loudly
.

             
I stand before Diablo and squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to see the metal rings over his eyes, the hairy face, the dreadlocks, the tattoos that run up to his chin
, for fear
they will prevent me from helping the villagers.    

             
‘I’ll ... I’ll go ... with you.’

             
A mammoth decision on my part, yet he doesn’t acknowledge it – just turns and saunters on. Now what? Am I supposed to follow him? Has he changed his mind? Doesn’t he want me any ...?’

             
He stops and looks at me, his eyebrows raised. I quickly start walking towards him. I want to say goodbye to my family and maybe c
ollect some of my things, but I’m not sure if that’s okay with him so
I walk out of Siempre with just the clothes I’m wearing.

             
I zone out – I don’t want to hear anything, don’t want to see anyone, don’t want to think about where I’m going, don’t want to think about what lies ahead. This is what it feels like when you’re walking to the gallows
, I guess.
 

             
A man
ushers me into the backseat of a Jeep.
I see Diablo t
hrough the window
riding his h
orse. Alongside him, Santana rides, a scowl on her pretty face. I’m confused at the angry looks she’s throwing my way.

             
Christa
rides
up to them and
starts to ague
with Diablo.
They way she’s glancing at the Jeep gives me the impression they’re arguing about me
. Maybe they don’t want him to take me captive. Maybe they feel sorry for me after all. Maybe they’ll
eventually
be my friends.
God,
I
hope
they
’
ll be my friends.

   
             
The men in the
front seat of the
Jeep look at me and frown
.
I’m scrawny and plain - a ragamuffin. My long, blonde
hair
is greasy and stringy, my blue eyes are bloodshot and the dress I’m wearing is baggy and unflattering. I’m wearing not a stitch of make up so I look pale and … eleven
so they’re
probably wondering what the hell Diablo sees in me.

             
After a while, they lose interest in me and chat among themselves. I’m thankful for that - it gives me a chance to gather my thoughts. What the hell does the beast want with me? Why
me
, when I embarrassed him in front of his people? I’m so much trouble – hasn’t he figured that out as yet?

    
             
Am I supposed to fuck this freak - this scruffy, hairy aberration? The thought of that makes me want to hurl. The very thought of being in the same room with this murderous animal makes me want to jump off the cliff myself. I stare into the dark
and wish I died when he first shot me.

*
             
*
             
*

We’re drive up to the hills and finally slow down at a ranch. The sign at the entrance says
Tana
-
Mera
. Like the song. The Jeep stops
,
everyone alights
and I’m
confused – I’m not expecting Diablo to live on a ranch, I’m expecting him to live in a large Bin Laden
-
styled cave.

             
They
ask
me to get out of the Jeep so I comply. The darkness doesn’t help – everything looks sinister and creepy - so Adam’s Family.  

   
             
Diablo and Santana walk ahead of me.

             
A
man
they call
Lorenzo
walks up to me. ‘Follow me, Senorita.’

             
I nod.
We walk for a while and stop outside a door.

             
‘Thi
s is your room,’ he says
and ushers me
inside.

             
I have a room?
Hesitating, I step into the room and look around. It’s normal
, thank God!

             
Lorenzo shuts the door and leaves, but does not lock it. 

             
I
was
expecting to be thrown into some dark, damp, underground dungeon, littered with human skulls and coffins of all sizes
,
complete with a cauldron of foul smelling liquid
,
bubbling on an open flame. Instead, and to my surprise, my room is modern, comfortable with colour co-ordinated linen – different hues of apple-green and cream and bits of silver strewn around. Cannibals with a flair for décor? Bling? 

             
I stand in the middle of the room and look around. Not a single skull and way cleaner than my bedroom back home. The room has a king-size bed, dressing table, side tables and a fluffy, spearmint-coloured carpet. No pictures and no personal
stuff. Pretty much like a hotel room.
        

             
Too afraid to touch anything, I perch on the edge of the bed and try to think. What now?

             
I keep glancing at the door, expecting Diablo to barge in any moment and start hacking at me, or drag me outside, tie me to a stake and perform a ritual
,
virgin
-
killing while his
hombres
dance around me.

             
Good God
! D
oes he think I’m a virgin? Well,
if he is,
I’m not going to correct the fucker.

   
             
A
burst of loud music startles me
.
I spring to me feet. Omigod! It’s happening the way I imagined - loud music, the beating of the drums
...

             
Wait a minute - the music is modern, hip-hop - the kind I listen to on my iPod. Definitely not sacrificial music – however that sounds.