by Paige Notaro
“It’s half the disguise.”
“What else do I need?” She looked around.
“Me.”
I went over by her side and found her head barely reaching my shoulders. I could have carried her easy as a punching bag, if need be, but it looked like her mind was back. That would make this easier.
“Now listen, no matter what anyone asks, you don’t gotta say anything,” I said. “I’m gonna hold you right next to me and lead you right up those stairs, ok? We’re gonna go to my car and we’re gonna get out of here.”
She pored over me silently for a moment, as if I were at an audition for this role, and then nodded.
“I’m gonna put my arm around you now, ok?”
“Ok.”
I scooped her into me as gently as I could. Her heat warmed my chest and her heart beat against mine. This wasn’t the first time I’d walked a girl out of here like this, but it felt completely new – less like a flash of heat and more like the glow of a warm candle. I wanted to hug her tighter, but I didn’t dare chance it.
“Alright,” I said. “We’re going now. No matter what, keep your eyes down.”
I tugged open the door and stepped outside. The hallway felt cold and damp from the piping, and she shivered into me as we walked down. There were a pair of guards talking behind me, but they only paused briefly as we walked away. More were poking through doors leading to the arena. I kept my eyes fixed firmly on the pair flanking the wide stairs up.
One of the doors burst open and I shoved myself ahead of the girl. It was just a couple of the dancers though. I relaxed and kept moving us forward.
“Hey Papi,” one of the women called out with a roll of her shoulders as we came near.
“Hey, girl,” I said, wondering what her name was and if we’d ever been together.
“Who you got there? That Anna-Maria?” The two of them tried to peek around me.
“Ey, don’t be jealous.” I jerked away and the girl stayed faithfully silent. Her heart might be calmer than mine now.
“I was looking forward to you papi,” the first woman said, tracing a finger over my bare arm. “Come on, you got another arm too.”
“Not tonight,” I said. “I got everything I need here. Don’t you worry though, there’s gonna be other nights - you know that.”
The woman pouted, tried to get a last view of who had bested her, but then went back to her conversation. I let out the air I’d been holding, then remembered my partner here had been witness to the whole exchange. What would she make of it? I wondered about the dancer too. How much choice did she have in being here? It didn’t matter if I hadn’t slept with her – I would have without thought any other night. Now I wondered if she might be planning her own escape.
The girl said nothing though and I had to tell myself no. If this girl had trusted me, then others would have too. They had wanted to be with me, if not for my body then at least for the story or the power of being with El Muerte Negro. I was dangerous in that ring, but I was safer than the Cartel. They couldn’t see inside me to doubt that idea.
We reached the stairs just as another squad of black suited guards came down. They all nodded, glanced at the pink hoodie and brushed past. One even flashed me a thumbs up. Not exactly top notch security but it wasn’t really their fault. They weren’t detectives, just simple killers.
None of the guards on the way out gave us trouble. The one watching the front called my fight good, though I was sure he hadn’t seen it.
“Almost there,” I said, tugging her towards my white Escalade. It was parked right by the entrance. I pressed the girl into the passenger side then got around to my own. A group of men were talking by a dark SUV idling a few feet away, and one waved to me. Hector Morales, the prick whose uncle was my Patron. I waved back, hoping he wouldn’t come over trying to chat like after every other fight. I just wanted to get out of here.
The men he was talking to had glanced over. Two wore the same killer chic outfit as the other guards, but the other was a big round guy in a tan suit. His face looked red as a tomato but he was clearly pure Anglo. This was the guy I had seen with the girl in my car.
Was this her keeper? The prick who had ran razors over her soul?
His beady eyes hung on me, and I forced open my hands which had curled up. He tipped his head – a casual respect from a powerful man, he probably thought. Maybe he was a politician or the mayor. I wouldn’t know. All I saw was a chump failing to acknowledge what was under his nose. His eyes dropped to the car though and my heart suddenly leapt. This guy may be scum but you didn’t rise to the top of this bloody pond without smarts too. If he even suspected she was under that hoodie, he wouldn’t let me leave without checking.
But Georgia had scrunched herself into the back seat. Smart girl.
I nodded back to the prick to let him know I’d seen him and that we would meet. Oh yes, we would, but not this night.
I got in and pulled the car out the lot and onto the road. Once we’d gone far enough, I called back. “You’re good. Buckle up.”
Her clasp blinked shut, and I set the engine roaring. The girl peered back as the dingy fighting grounds fell away into the rest of the Chihuahan Desert.
“You’re safe now,” I said. “You feel better?”
“A little.”
“There’s no way that fat ass can get you. We’ll be at the border in 30. No one’s going to mess with you then.”
“He’s American,” she said. “He’s from Texas.”
“Oh.” Didn’t think that sleaze would drip down south. Then again, I was here.
“I was taken in the US anyway,” she said, almost too soft to hear against the roaring A/C. “I’m too stupid to know who to trust. Maybe I shouldn’t trust anyone.”
Her eyes were on me through the rearview mirror as she said it.
“You think I’m trouble?” I asked. “Guess it’s fair. I’m not, but tell you what. Those doors ain’t child-proof. We’re gonna drive through the city, and if you feel the need you can always bail out.” Then, thinking I’d undersold myself, I added: “Don’t, though. My only plan is to go straight over to the border and drop you off.”
“I can’t go. I don’t have a passport.”
“License is good too.” Then I realized where this girl had come from and felt like a dumbass. “Ah sorry, I guess you have nothing.”
“I never had a license,” she said. “I never learned to drive.”
The shrubs and trees were broken up by a hut here and there now. My car was joined by men pulling carts with bicycles and battered little repair trucks on their way in for the overnight shift. My car had a lot of horses, but I still had to slow to weave through these guys.
“What do I do?” she asked.
“You’ll be fine. They’ll have a process to take you back. I’m sure of it. There’s no mistaking the origins of that voice.”
“You’re American, right?”
“Sure am.” I wasn’t sure if that was going to be cause for concern or comfort given her recent history.
“Can you take me across?”
“You want me to go across with you?”
“Yes, can you take me?”
“I live in Juarez.”
“Oh. Well, it’s not far right? You can just take me over and come back.”
Her eyes shone wide with the light from passing cars. She didn’t even trust me, but she had no choice. I wanted to say yes. If only things had gone a little different, I would have laughed and said, ‘of course.’
Then again, I wouldn’t have been in Juarez to begin with.
“My brother can take you,” I said. “How about that? He goes back and forth a lot – knows all the protocol. I’ll take you to our place and then he’ll help you cross over. I only live a mile or two away from the checkpoint.”
She gave me another long silence. Her eyes stayed on me, but they weren’t probing, just fixed and afraid.
“Hey, I swear to you. Nothing bad’s gonna happen to you anymore.
We’re gonna get my brother and we’re gonna get you out. I promise, ok?”
“Mr. Tarly used to promise me things too.”
Well, I had nothing to say to that. Whether she was pleased or not she sank back into the leather and we wound deeper into the city in silence. I didn’t have room to slip through anymore. All I could do was tap a slow beat on the brake pedal and crawl with the rest.
Horns squawked around me. Normally I’d be joining in. Mostly it was useless, but in a car like mine, people tried to give way if they could. No knowing when a pissed off Cartel lieutenant was in the mood to murder a family to vent off the stress from a bad day. With a ride like mine, I could easily profit from that fear.
Profiting from Fear – title of my autobiography. I’d reveled in the idea even as I thought myself different from the Cartel, but how different was I? This night was casting everything in sharp relief. This girl was giving voice to the hypocrisy I kept buried. Her blank look was a cave in which it all echoed.
I pressed onto the freeway and started to churn along. The girl still hadn’t said a word, but I could see her eyes roaming across the glowing scenery of the city core. I watched them pop wide, dim, and pop wide again. She really was out of her element. Maybe she didn’t even have an element. How had she found the strength to escape?
How far could she have gotten without me?
My mind started to whirl. Mom used to say all things happen for a reason. I know God let you drift for a while, but if it weren’t for that we would have never come together.
I didn’t put much stock in any of that. But whatever I had done to get here, however much ill I’d allowed in presence since I’d arrived, maybe I could make up that debt by helping this girl get out.
“Hey,” I said. “We’re almost there.”
“Ok.”
“You don’t have ID, but do you have a name?”
The gears in her head turned a little, and then her mouth let out a single word. “Georgia.”
“Georgia?”
“Yeah.”
Georgia. Oh, mom must be laughing her ass off. Even I had to chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” She frowned at me, which was a nice change of pace from fear.
“Oh, just everything,” I said. “It’s a pretty name. I’m Andre Jones, by the way.”
I reached a hand back and she met it weakly.
“I know,” she said, and then even softer. “Thank you.”
“Oh, not just yet,” I said. “But soon.”
We pulled off the freeway and onto the local roads again. We were nearing the Fronterizo and these streets bustled with life: food carts, neon lit supermarkets and even small office buildings working late.
I followed the road a way and then turned off into a parking lot. I smiled a little as I saw Georgia’s head tilt higher and higher at our destination. We were at the Hotel Lucena, a 12 story high rise thrust out above the rest of Juarez.
“Where are we?” she asked, as I shut off the engine.
“Home.”
I led her out, but she walked more confidently now, and stayed loose in my grip. But we still had one last lap to go though.
“The doorman reports to Cartel,” I said, tugging her hood back on. “Don’t give him a good look.”
She hugged in to me tight, and I felt that hot heart of hers pumping into me again. It felt right. I had helped keep it beating. It wasn’t much, but it was more than anything else I’d done here.
“Señor Jones,” the doorman bowed as I approached.
“Evening, Rico,” I said, marching us right through the glass doors. The lobby stretched out, but as usual lay mostly empty. The elevators were right across the tiled floor. I let Georgia loose while we waited and finally let myself chill.
“This goes to your room?” she asked, still leaning on me.
“Yep, and to my brother too hopefully.”
“Or what? You’ll call him? Will he come tonight?”
“He’ll come right now if I say I got a bottle of Patron to polish.”
“That’s tequila?”
I chuckled. “Looks like you know a couple things about Mexico after all.”
She nodded. “None of the good things though.”
The doors whooshed open, and we got in. “Yeah,” I said. “You might be back one day. Once it’s your choice.”
She gave me a look as if it were the craziest thing she’d heard that night. I smiled and got in with her. She was right. No one would choose to be in Juarez.
Unless they had nowhere else to go.
The doors shut and whisked us out of sight.
CHAPTER NINE
Georgia
The elevator chimed opened in the middle of a palace. It wasn't, I knew, but I had to imagine they looked like this. The hallway leading out was short but wide with a high ceiling and chandelier sparkling overhead. Just up front was a large round living room with walls made out of glass looking out on the night.
Movement stirred behind me and I startled back to my life.
"Just me," Andre said, touching my back gently.
Just him, not Mr. Tarly. Not anymore.
Mad joy erupted through my brain but then I slapped it back down. Who was Andre? Where even was I?
Footsteps echoed down towards us.
"Andre, that you?" a voice yelled out.
A guy stepped into view. He was white, but with a glowing tan and shaggy brown hair. He had on shorts, and a bright red checkered shirt that flapped open.
"Everything in one piece?" His eyes landed on me. "Who's this?"
"This is Georgia," Andre's voice boomed around me.
"Nice to meet you Georgia," he said, looking suddenly serious. "Listen, whatever he’s told you, it’s all true."
He winked. I didn't know what he meant. I didn't know what to do. My chest didn't want to move. Could I breathe so high up?
Andre laced an arm around me and murmured deep into my ear. “It’s ok. Just forget him." His voice lifted off me and he barked out. "Yo, is Maria here?"
"She's cleaning up. We're about to head out.”
"Belay that and get her in here."
The guy's grin faded. "Why, what's going on?"
"Dennis, I just need her now, ok?"
"Alright, alright." He ducked out the side.
Andre led me into the main room. It swelled out around me. The city spread out like a blanket of stars anywhere I could look. My legs felt faint and Andre basically carried me to the white leather couch.
"Just chill, ok?" he said, shutting my eyes.
I felt him move away, and I focused on breathing. His presence returned and a glass of water was pressed to my lips. It tasted sweeter than anything I'd drunk in weeks, better than even the fancy drinks Mr. Tarly used to buy me. I gulped it in two swallows.
"Can I have more?" I asked.
"You got it."
I could open my eyes now and was taking in the room calmly, when another set of voices rose. One was female. She was speaking in Spanish, but I thought I heard her say "Que pasa?" I knew that.
"I got a girl that needs you," Andre said. "She was kidnapped."
"Holy crap," added the other guy - Dennis? "What are you doing with a kidnapped girl?"
"Yes, Andre," the woman said. "What are you doing?"
"Shit, what do you think I'm doing? I'm trying to save her. She came to me for help."
"Uh-huh."
"Just go talk to her."
Someone moved up from around me. An apple scent warmed the air and then the woman knelt into view. She was Mexican with sand-colored skin, warm eyes and silky hair. She had on a thin line of eyeliner and bright red lipstick but even without it, she must be gorgeous. The lips turned into a warm smile and she took my hands in hers.
She was like Teresa – I should have been afraid, but there was such tenderness on her face I could feel my defenses melt.
"Hey," she said. "How are you?"
"Ok," I said back, finally feeling it.
"What's your name?"
"It's -” Dennis started to say, but she shot fire at him with her eyes.
"Go on, niña," she said lighting her smile again. "Tell me."
"I'm... Georgia"
"Like the US state?"
"Yeah."
"Ah, that's beautiful. I am Maria."
"Do you live here?" I asked. I wanted to ask if she was Andre's girlfriend. That would mean I was safe, but somehow I didn’t like that either. My thoughts didn’t make sense anymore.
"No, not exactly. Dennis brings me here sometimes. He's my boyfriend. For now anyways."
"Aw, you've been saying that for years," Dennis said from behind us.
I couldn't rip my eyes from her makeup. I was no good at that stuff, but it took her natural beauty and made it womanly even though I was sure she wasn’t much older. Just putting it on was an act of confidence - inviting the world to look at you. She would never let herself be taken, I was sure. "Are you headed outside?" I asked.
"Oh, no no. Do not worry about that. We always go out. It is nothing special. Tell me about what happened to you."
I nodded, but it was tough to start. My tongue felt thick and sloppy. I hadn’t used it much the past month other than a few lines with Mr. Tarly. I must have sounded broken to Andre, maybe that's why he had felt bad enough to save me. Maria squeezed my hands and waited patiently though, so I gathered my strength and began.
Her face took various shades as I moved from my drugging to my sale to my imprisonment and finally my escape. She didn’t get angry, but just adjusted her touch on me and made me feel calm all the way through. Andre handed me my water and towered over us as I spoke, and swore under his breath at “that piece of shit” and “human scum,” and I understood he wasn’t mad that I was so weak and helpless. His rage had scared me in his changing room, not knowing what it meant, but now it was like heat boiling off of him and keeping me warm.
When I finished, Maria pulled me into a deep hug. "Niña, you are incredible," she said. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. To leave this man in the middle of 100s of Cartel criminals is nothing short of pure bravery."
"I was desperate," I said.
"Not all can act when things are hopeless," she said.
It was true; my mom had ended up broken under my father. Things would have been so different for me if she had taken me and escaped.
