Muerte Con Carne (5 page)

“This is it, huh?”

Marta had picked the place out weeks ago. Said it was perfect. Only a few miles away from the border, and from her research, this area had plenty of potential for her documentary. That’s all she would say about it, though.

Potential. What the fuck does that even mean?

Felix rubbed the sleep from his eyes, took a long look at their surroundings. The street they were on was pretty bare, a few broken down businesses on either side of it. A group of Mexican men sat on lawn chairs in front of what appeared to be an abandoned store, drinking beer and listening to a small hand radio playing tejano music. The men glared at the car as Marta pulled up to the front office. Felix was surprised to see a small swimming pool on the other side of the parking lot, dead leaves and bugs floating and swirling on the surface.

Felix reached over, put his hand on her thigh and squeezed. “Thanks for driving.”

“Let’s get checked in. I need a shower.”

He leaned across, tried to kiss her, but she turned her face. His lips fell awkwardly on her shoulder and he kissed her shirt there. “Come on, Marta. We’re here, we made it. Why don’t you try and relax, huh? Just a little? I’ve been thinking about last night all day. I’m dying over here.”

“Are you serious right now? I swear to god, sometimes…” She rolled her eyes, stepped out of the driver’s door, and hurried into the front office of the motel.

Felix just sat there for a minute, smiling, shaking his head. He drummed his fingers on the dash before stepping out of the car. Even with the sun down, the air was still hot, and he felt his skin spewing sweat as he stood there. He imagined Marta on top of him, perspiration sparkling like crystals on her naked skin, both of them slick with sweat as they fucked the night away. His thoughts went back to the previous night, the way she slammed her pelvis into him, fucking him harder than she ever had before. Aggressive, almost angry. But he liked it. He wanted more, and just thinking about it was making his cock bulge against his inner thigh.

When he stepped into the office, Marta was already paying for the room.

“I would have paid for that,” Felix said.

“You still can. This is my room,” she said. “Did you bring cash? Because they don’t take credit cards.”

The man behind the register had a strip of beef jerky hanging from his lips. He sucked on the tip, chewed it, then pulled it from his mouth and licked his lips. The soggy, chewed up jerky glistened in the dying sunlight spilling in through the windows. He wore a tattered cut-off sleeve t-shirt, torn at the bottom so his red belly stuck out, the outty belly button looking like the pink eye of some taxidermized critter. Faded tattoos decorated the man’s forearms, and he reached up, scratched his chin as he glared at Felix.

“So you want a room, or what?”

Felix shot Marta a look, but her attention was on the window, studying the horizon. He shrugged, went for his wallet. “Guess so. Don’t think I really have a choice.”

The man popped the jerky back into his mouth, snickered as he looked from Felix to Marta and back again. He wouldn’t bite any pieces off the soggy, dehydrated meat strip. Just sucked on it, chewed it a little. When he spoke, a beefy fog blew from his mouth.

“That’ll be sixty for the night. Ain’t got no TV, but there’s air conditionin’.”

Felix pulled out two fifties, slid them across the counter to the man. The frustration coursing through his flesh made his hands shake, so he shoved them into his pockets, stole a glance at Marta who still had her attention on the desert outside.

“I’m going to head to my room,” she said, not even turning to look at Felix. “It’s been a long day.”

And she walked out, the bell above the door jingling.

“Yeah, I guess it has,” Felix muttered.

The man behind the counter tittered, shook his head as he used his tongue to shift the jerky from one side of his mouth to the other. He handed Felix his change.

“Something funny?”

“Sure is. Might be hot outside, buddy. But it’s gonna be a cold night, ain’t it?” The man slapped the counter, his belly bouncing as he laughed. “Yeah, that’s funny shit.”

Felix snatched his key from the counter, shoved his cash into his pocket. As he walked out, the man continued to giggle to himself.

“…gonna be a cold night. Goddamn.”

Felix forced himself to leave the office even though he wanted nothing more than to shove his fist into the middle of that fucker’s head.

He wanted a drink. His mouth went dry as he thought about it and his stomach tingled with anticipation.

Just as he stepped outside, Marta was climbing the stairs, her bag swinging from her hand. Her eyes darted in his direction for a second, but she quickly averted them, unlocked the door to her room and disappeared behind it.

“Goodnight to you too.”

The motel had two levels, six rooms each. Felix read the number on his key and saw that it was right next to Marta. Since they appeared to be the only customers, he wondered if he could maybe get a room on the first floor, as far away from her room as possible. It was going to be torture enough without having to hear her walking around, hear the shower running, summoning images of her sudsy, wet body.

Felix just stood there for a second, staring at her door.
This is fucking bullshit.

After pulling his bag and laptop from the car, he gave the door a good hard slam. Hoped Marta heard it too. He trudged up the stairs and entered his room.

The air inside the room was hotter than outside. There was a hint of mold and rot clouding it, and Felix couldn’t help but imagine what sorts of atrocities took place within those jaundiced walls. He immediately went for the air conditioner, turned it to full blast. It clicked a few times before starting, and even when it did it was nothing more than a luke warm sputter.

He sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress as soft as a pile of bricks. But when the hiss of Marta’s shower seeped through the wall, Felix ran his palms over his face, and headed for the door.

The sun had disappeared now, and the night was damn hot, but he decided he needed a walk anyway. Needed to get away from Marta and cool off for a while. Most of all, he needed that drink.

He walked up the street toward the congregation of men whose voices were now loud and animated, gruff laughter exploding from their huddle. Their radio played tinny music mixed with bursts of static as the station they were listening to went in and out.

As Felix approached, their laughter ceased and they all watched silently as he strolled toward them. One man stood from his chair, crossed his arms.

“Hola,” Felix said. “Um…tequila? 
¿
Donde está tequila?”

The men all glanced at each other, the one standing letting his arms drop to his sides.

“Muchacha mucho loco,” Felix said as he pointed back toward the motel, doing his best to remember his Spanish classes from high school. “Necesito tequila.”

The men exploded into laughter, elbowing each other and slapping their knees. The standing man stepped toward Felix, put an arm around his shoulders. He smelled like beer and sweat, and Felix could feel the dampness of the man’s armpit on the back of his neck.

“Está bien, mi amigo. Ándale.” He handed Felix a beer, patted him on the shoulder. “There’s bar that way,” he said pointing up the road. “Not far.”

Felix popped his beer open, held it up. “Salud.”

The men held up their beers, all now smiling at Felix. He drank half the beer in one gulp and started up the road. The men continued to cackle behind him, their laughs thick with drunkenness.

He would have missed the bar if the woman wasn’t standing outside of the door, clearly inebriated and having a hard time staying on her feet. When she saw Felix, a crooked smile revealing blackened teeth emerged. Felix drank the last of his beer and crushed the can beneath his shoe.

“Bueno, bueno, bueno,” she slurred as she stepped toward him, stumbling once but catching herself on Felix’s shoulder. Her breasts nearly poured out of her halter top, white stretch marks running down the brown flesh.

“No thank you,” Felix said, and tried to politely remove her hand from his shoulder, but she gripped his shirt, slid her other arm around his waist.

“Come on, papi. Don’ be like that.” Her tongue basted her front teeth with saliva, and her hand darted from his waist to his crotch, squeezing.

“Hey, goddamnit.” Felix twisted away from her, and the sloppy woman tumbled to the dirt. Her skirt hiked up her thighs, and Felix saw she wasn’t wearing any panties. He caught a glimpse of matted black hair and wrinkled flesh before he turned his head.

“¡Hijo de puta! ¡Maldito hijo de puta!” The woman tried to get back to her feet, but kept tumbling back to the ground.

Felix shook his head as he entered the bar.

***

Cristobal slid another morsel of meat into his mouth, licked the grease from his lips. His eyelids fluttered as he chewed, used the tortilla in his right hand to sop up the rest of the juice on his plate.

“Delicioso, Mamá. Como siempre.”

The old woman’s hands shook as she spooned the soup’s broth into her trembling, wrinkled lips. Her stomach couldn’t handle the meat anymore, she would say, but she still cooked it for her family, for the trailer. And she hadn’t lost her touch after all these years. Her eyes were tired, nearly pinched shut as she swallowed. “Necesitamos mas carne, mijo.”

Alma sat beside Mamá, unable to keep her eyes off Cristobal. Her bulging belly was pressed against the edge of the table, and she rubbed it lovingly as her gaze darted from her plate to Cristobal’s face.

Cristobal glanced toward the steaming meat lying on the oversized island in the middle of the kitchen, its wooden chopping block top soaking in the grease. Once he was done eating, he would fill the steel trays up with the meat and load them into the truck. This last catch had been skinny, not much meat on him. There wasn’t much but still enough to feed the family and make a little money.

Gustavo carved the brown, juicy meat away from the bone and continued to pile it up in the center of the island. A pile of bones lay in a stack beside him, and his tongue stuck out of the mouth hole in his mask, clamped between his teeth as he sliced. The head had already been boiled and scraped clean, hollowed out. Gustavo would get to keep that. Mamá had already prepared his favorite: sesos. Brains. It sat on the counter, probably getting cold.

“Gustavo,” Cristobal said. “Eat your food.”

Gustavo licked his fingers and dropped the knife, then excitedly shuffled toward his plate. He was already stuffing the sesos into his mouth as he made his way to the table, sat beside Mamá and dug in.

Cristobal wiped his mouth, patted his belly. “Mañana por la noche voy a conseguirnos más carne, Mamá.”

Rogelio licked his plate and burped. He rose, strolled to Mamá's chair, climbed in beside her. The old woman opened her arms and let Rogelio fall into them. She stroked his hair, kissed his forehead, and rocked in her wooden rocking chair. Her favorite chair. Papá's chair. “Guarda un poco para Papá. Sabes qué‚ tiene mucho apetito.”

“Okay, Mamá,” Cristobal said.

Alma stood, collected the dirty dishes. When she grabbed Cristobal’s, she let her swollen breasts slide over the back of his neck. Cristobal clenched his teeth, but held back the urge to say anything. He couldn’t say what he wanted to say in front of Mamá. But he’d let his little sister know what was on his mind later.

Gustavo finished his food, retrieved the head from the kitchen, and stomped past the table. He ascended the stairs and giggled on his way to his bedroom. Mamá would make a new mask for him tomorrow. But Gustavo worked hard and deserved these little pleasures.

Cristobal yawned, ran his fingers through his hair. He thought he’d head to his room too, get some sleep. Had to be up before the sun to make sure the food was ready in time for their customers. And their customers had to have Mamá's cooking. Couldn’t stay away.

Cristobal stood, kissed Mamá on the top of the head. “Te amo, Mamá. Goodnight.”

She patted him on the cheek, continued to rock. “Necesitamos mas carne, mijo. Si?”

“Si, Mamá. Está bien.”

***

Marta wrapped her hair in a towel and collapsed onto the bed. She knew getting separate rooms would probably piss Felix off, and she didn’t really know why she did it. She told herself she wanted some alone time, time to think, prepare herself. But that wasn’t true.

I’m such a cunt.

Already she wished Felix was in the room with her. He’d been so cute in the car, curled up in the passenger seat, whimpering while he slept. And just thinking about him now sent flutters throughout her chest and stomach.

It’s our first night. We’ve got all day tomorrow to prepare and go over the game plan. Tonight we can have a little fun. He deserves that much.

She toweled off, pulled on some jean shorts and an old Hello Kitty t-shirt she always wore around the house. No underwear, no bra. Just before she walked out, she caught her reflection, tossed her hair a few times and popped a tiny whitehead that had developed just below her ear.

She hoped he wasn’t too mad at her. She wondered when he would finally get fed up with her and leave her. It would happen eventually, she was sure. It happened with every other man she ever had. But Felix was different. Even after her worst episodes, Felix always acted like nothing happened, always had a smile and a kiss for her.

And now she dragged his ass across the state just to abandon him to his own room? She hated herself and promised she would make it up to him.

The hot air caused her to sweat almost right away. She knew Felix had the room next door because she heard him walk into it earlier, could hear his air conditioner struggling through the wall. Hers worked fine, and she wondered if the man at the desk gave him the broken one on purpose.

She licked her lips, straightened her shirt, and knocked on his door. No answer.

“Felix? Hey, it’s me. Sorry about…you know. Just sorry.”
Knock, knock, knock
. “You in there?”