withdrew a banana, reached in again, took out an orange.
Robert stared .
One of the soldiers laughed, but quickly composed himself when the officer tossed the fruit into the front seat and smashed the bag between his palms. The officer shouted at the soldiers. They hurried behind the car and dragged Robert’s carry-ons in their plastic bags from the trunk. The officer shouted again and the soldiers hauled Ana and Helmut’s luggage out of the backseat onto the roadside. The few passing trucks were waved around them.
Robert stole a look at Ana. She was expressionless. Helmut lumbered about, mumbling in an incoherent mix of Spanish, English, and German.
The officer laughed. “This one, he is have a little drink I think.” The officer opened Helmut’s luggage and lifted out an almost empty bottle of tequila. Laughing again, he held it up for the other soldiers to see. He picked through Helmut’s folded clothes and opened his shaving kit. He took a quick look at Helmut’s laptop and put it back along with the tequila. Then he rifled through Ana’s suitcase, inspecting the few cosmetics in a plastic zip-bag, grinning as he held up a box of tampons for the other soldiers’ entertainment. Ana maintained her composure, grim, expressionless.
The officer stepped behind the car and took Robert’s camera out of the carry-on, the projector from it’s case.
“Una filmadora,” Ana said.
The officer opened Robert’s second carry-on, brightening as he removed an unopened bottle of brandy. Somewhat amiable now, as if the bottle was what he had been looking for all along, he shouted orders. The soldiers hurriedly repacked the bags and stowed them in the car. The officer, still holding Robert’s brandy, spoke to Ana in Spanish.
“He says we have provided a pleasant distraction. We are free to go.”
Robert opened the front passenger door for Ana. Helmut was already fumbling his way into the backseat.
The officer made a sweeping bow as Robert started the car and pulled out onto the highway.
“Boy Scouts,” Helmut mumbled. He put his glasses in his shirt pocket and rested his head against the luggage. Soon his face went slack.
Ana sneaked a look back at Helmut, then fixed her gaze on Robert. “Who are you, anyway?”
“I was about to ask you.”
“What’s with that in the bag?”
He glanced in the mirror at Helmut, gave her a quick look. “You took it?”
“When I got in the backseat at the service station, it had slid out on the floor at my feet. I went to put it back and saw what it was. Yes, I was afraid.”
“Why did you replace it with the fruit?”
“You would have noticed it was missing.”
Robert grinned a little. “Boy. That was a kicker. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”
“It isn’t funny.”
“Well, I don’t know. It’s kinda funny, now.”
She studied him. “Why do you have it?”
“This is Mexico. Right over the hill there they’ll kill you just because you have green eyes and can afford to eat three squares a day.”
“I thought you didn’t know anything about Mexico?”
“I saw the movie.”
“Cute,” she said dryly. “What’re you doing here, really?”
“I told you. I sell boats.”
“Sure you do.” She took another look at Helmut, then lifted her shirttail, withdrew the holstered .380 from inside the waistband of her jeans and handed it over. There was something about the shared taboo of the gun, something in the gesture of her submitting it to him that charged the moment with a kind of erotic electricity.
Her eyes lingered on him in the electrified air. “I hate guns,” she said coolly, erasing any hint of intimacy. “No good has ever come from guns.”
“You might change your mind under the right circumstances.”
“I doubt it.”
“The great equalizer. Helps puny little girls take down big fierce men.”
She gave him a sharp look. “You think I’m puny?”
“No ma’am. You ain’t no little girl, either.”
Her
Robert stared .
One of the soldiers laughed, but quickly composed himself when the officer tossed the fruit into the front seat and smashed the bag between his palms. The officer shouted at the soldiers. They hurried behind the car and dragged Robert’s carry-ons in their plastic bags from the trunk. The officer shouted again and the soldiers hauled Ana and Helmut’s luggage out of the backseat onto the roadside. The few passing trucks were waved around them.
Robert stole a look at Ana. She was expressionless. Helmut lumbered about, mumbling in an incoherent mix of Spanish, English, and German.
The officer laughed. “This one, he is have a little drink I think.” The officer opened Helmut’s luggage and lifted out an almost empty bottle of tequila. Laughing again, he held it up for the other soldiers to see. He picked through Helmut’s folded clothes and opened his shaving kit. He took a quick look at Helmut’s laptop and put it back along with the tequila. Then he rifled through Ana’s suitcase, inspecting the few cosmetics in a plastic zip-bag, grinning as he held up a box of tampons for the other soldiers’ entertainment. Ana maintained her composure, grim, expressionless.
The officer stepped behind the car and took Robert’s camera out of the carry-on, the projector from it’s case.
“Una filmadora,” Ana said.
The officer opened Robert’s second carry-on, brightening as he removed an unopened bottle of brandy. Somewhat amiable now, as if the bottle was what he had been looking for all along, he shouted orders. The soldiers hurriedly repacked the bags and stowed them in the car. The officer, still holding Robert’s brandy, spoke to Ana in Spanish.
“He says we have provided a pleasant distraction. We are free to go.”
Robert opened the front passenger door for Ana. Helmut was already fumbling his way into the backseat.
The officer made a sweeping bow as Robert started the car and pulled out onto the highway.
“Boy Scouts,” Helmut mumbled. He put his glasses in his shirt pocket and rested his head against the luggage. Soon his face went slack.
Ana sneaked a look back at Helmut, then fixed her gaze on Robert. “Who are you, anyway?”
“I was about to ask you.”
“What’s with that in the bag?”
He glanced in the mirror at Helmut, gave her a quick look. “You took it?”
“When I got in the backseat at the service station, it had slid out on the floor at my feet. I went to put it back and saw what it was. Yes, I was afraid.”
“Why did you replace it with the fruit?”
“You would have noticed it was missing.”
Robert grinned a little. “Boy. That was a kicker. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”
“It isn’t funny.”
“Well, I don’t know. It’s kinda funny, now.”
She studied him. “Why do you have it?”
“This is Mexico. Right over the hill there they’ll kill you just because you have green eyes and can afford to eat three squares a day.”
“I thought you didn’t know anything about Mexico?”
“I saw the movie.”
“Cute,” she said dryly. “What’re you doing here, really?”
“I told you. I sell boats.”
“Sure you do.” She took another look at Helmut, then lifted her shirttail, withdrew the holstered .380 from inside the waistband of her jeans and handed it over. There was something about the shared taboo of the gun, something in the gesture of her submitting it to him that charged the moment with a kind of erotic electricity.
Her eyes lingered on him in the electrified air. “I hate guns,” she said coolly, erasing any hint of intimacy. “No good has ever come from guns.”
“You might change your mind under the right circumstances.”
“I doubt it.”
“The great equalizer. Helps puny little girls take down big fierce men.”
She gave him a sharp look. “You think I’m puny?”
“No ma’am. You ain’t no little girl, either.”
Her
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