Getaway Girlz

by Joan Rylen

  Lucy looked at the price tag on a frilly dress. “Oh! This is not the Sam’s of Mexican touristy goods.”

  As they left the shop, Pierre reported, “No journalist out here.”

  “Excelente!” Vivian said.

  They passed a shop under construction with a ladder leaning against the front wall. Lucy, not paying attention, was on course to walk directly underneath it.

  Kate reached out and grabbed her arm. “Watch out, Lucy!”

  “What?” Lucy asked.

  “You almost walked underneath that ladder,” Kate pointed out.

  “Oh.”

  “What’s the superstition with that?” Vivian asked Kate, thinking about the mirror she broke and threw away at the airport.

  “It’s bad luck,” Kate said.

  “We’re having enough of that, don’t need to add to it,” Lucy said.

  “No kidding,” Wendy said. “Watch out for black cats, don’t step on any cracks, and for goodness sakes, don’t walk under any ladders! Don’t go near a ladder, don’t climb a ladder, just stay away from ladders.”

  They stopped at the next shop which was full of ceramics — turtles, iguanas, suns, and an entire section of ancient Indian-looking figurines. Kate was drawn to the phallic artifacts.

  Memories of Kate’s bachelorette party flashed before Vivian’s eyes.

  The girls had met at one of Kate’s co-worker’s house. Her neighbor across the street had several topiaries in the landscaping. One was supposed to resemble a horse maybe or a dog, they couldn’t figure it out. What it most closely resembled was a penis on four legs. Vivian and Kate pretended to lick it while Wendy snapped a picture.

  “Finding any four-legged topiaries?” Vivian joined Kate.

  “Nope. Everything but.”

  Vivian picked up a coffee cup called over to Pierre, “Do you think this is proportionally accurate?” The cup handle was a weirdo guy with his wanger reaching to the sky. His thing was taller than his noggin.

  Pierre gave her a look, made a “pffft” sound and shook his head.

  Vivian had no intentions of buying anything at the jewelry store they stopped in next, but the over-eager sales people wore her down. She gave in and purchased a pair of silver hoop earrings. Kate bought a beautiful silver necklace studded with turquoise stones, Wendy a silver and jade ring, and germ-a-phobe Lucy wouldn’t consider touching anything, much less purchasing it.

  “Anyone hungry?” Pierre asked. “I didn’t have breakfast this morning, and I drank my dinner last night.”

  Poor guy, drinking away his sorrows, Vivian thought.

  “I smell something good,” Wendy said. “It looks like the food market is just ahead. Let’s go see what’s cooking.”

  A crowd of people, tourist and locals alike, gathered in a courtyard where vendors sold all kinds of food out of carts — churros (Mexico’s version of a doughnut), tacos, tortas, carne asada, menudo. You name it.

  A mariachi band made its way through the crowd, trolling for tips.

  Six or seven children, no more than age 5, trailed behind them, dancing. It reminded Vivian of her kids and made her miss them.

  They had gone to a traditional Mexican wedding recently, complete with mariachis. Audrey and Lauren followed them around all night, dancing and clapping to the music. The twins slept through all the excitement. It never ceased to amaze her how babies could do that.

  “You girls go find a spot to sit, I’ll buy lunch.” Pierre said. “Who wants what?”

  They gave Pierre their order and thanked him for buying. The few small tables were occupied, but a bench surrounding one of several palm trees was open. They staked their claim.

  Wendy spied a shop across the street selling kitchen and food items. “I need to buy some Mexican vanilla. It tastes so much better in my dad’s sugar cookie recipe than the regular ass crap from home.”

  “Those must be some really good cookies if they’re worth hauling vanilla all the way back,” Kate said. “Give me that recipe, will ya?”

  “They’re the best,” Wendy said. “Very moist, not the usual brick-hard, break-your-teeth sugar cookies.”

  As Wendy walked off, Vivian turned to Lucy and Kate. “I, personally, am all about the pre-made cookie dough. Why try to create your own when someone else has done such a tasty job for you? Slice and bake, baby. That’s where it’s at.”

  Lucy tisked. “Yeah, but you don’t get the satisfaction of it being homemade.”

  “Screw that. I’m in my home. It counts. Plus, I get the satisfaction of no mess and 30 cookies done up in 30 minutes. That’s the kind of satisfaction I need. At least when it comes to baking cookies, if you know what I mean.”

  “We know what you mean.” Kate winked at Vivian.

  “Y’all are so trashy.” Lucy chided.

  “Sex is important,” Vivian said. “But I like for it to last more than 30 minutes!”

  “Only you could turn a perfectly innocent baking conversation into a sex one. Though, you do seem to get a little bun in the oven, or two, any time you have it. I’ve never seen someone pop out four kids in less than four years. Your oven is workin’ overtime.”

  “Yeah, well, this oven is off. Stick a fork in me, I’m done.”

  Wendy rushed up to them. “I just saw Stella!”

  “Where?” Kate asked, hopping off the bench.

  “I was in the store paying for my vanilla, and I just felt like someone was watching me. I turned around and there she was, just outside the shop window, glaring at me.”

  “Dammit.” Vivian said. “We didn’t see her.”

  “We were too busy with the baking and sex conversation to notice,” Lucy said.

  “Where did she go?” Kate asked.

  “I grabbed my change, ran out of the store and down the street and tried to find where she went but didn’t see her.” Wendy pointed back toward the way they came. “She must have run off. There aren’t too many people in the shops or on the sidewalk down there, so if she was still around, I would have found her.”

  “Shit!” Vivian yelled. “She was so close, then poof! She’s gone.”

  “How does she keep doing that?” Kate asked rhetorically.

  “I think she’s stalking you.” Lucy pointed to Vivian. “So just wait a while. She’ll turn up.”

  “Guess there’s not much else we can do since she disappeared – again,” Vivian concluded.

  Pierre returned with arms full of food, followed by three kids carrying two glass Coke bottles each. Food and drink were distributed with Pierre taking two Cokes and tipping the kids a few pesos. They ran away happy, eager to help the next tourist.

  Wendy told Pierre about seeing Stella as they ate their hodgepodge of Mexican treats. Vivian got two soft beef tacos. Lucy and Kate shared a big dish of nachos, and Wendy took bites of a torta in between telling her story.

  “Maybe she didn’t go too far and will turn up again,” Pierre said, then shoved the last bite of burrito in his mouth. “Let’s hit a few more shops,” came out muffled, and almost with beans. He grabbed a napkin. “Sorry.”

  Kate stood and gathered her trash. “I need to make a pit stop first. Anybody see a restroom?”

  “You are really going to use the restroom here?” Lucy said. “Geeerrrms.”

  “You just ate nachos out of a roach coach. You realize that, right? Besides, I’m a good hoverer. I promise you no part of my body will come in contact with the toilet.”

  Lucy looked skeptical.

  “I’ll meet you in the next shop,” Pierre said. “This is not a manly mission.”

  The girls found the restroom, which had a “front desk” feature. A young lady sat behind it, apparently, to sell toilet paper.

  “There’s no paper in there?” Kate asked.

  “No, buy here,” the lady said. “Five pesos.”

  “Good grief.” Kate handed over some coins. In turn, she received a small wad of toilet paper.

  She looked back at the girls, raised her toilet pa
per proudly in the air and headed in.

  “I’ll wait for her, buddy system, y’all go ahead with Pierre and we’ll catch up,” Wendy said. “Stay outta trouble and keep an eye out for Stella!”

  CHAPTER 39

  LUCY, PIERRE and Vivian worked their way through a very eccentric, very crowded shop that sold everything from clothing to cough drops. Vivian checked out the wind chimes and considered adding to her backyard collection. She loved listening to the chimes as the breeze blew through the live oaks.

  Lucy started in on a rack of t-shirts labeled three for $10. Bargain!

  She laughed and held up a t-shirt that said, “Mexican’t – A person who wants to be Mexican but isn’t.”

  She held up another t-shirt and called out, “Hey, I should have been wearing this the other day on the beach.”

  The shirt had a cartoon drawing of a worm drinking a shot of tequila. The caption read “One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor.”

  Vivian called out, “Kate said that about you!”

  Done with the rack of shirts, Lucy asked Pierre to try on a serape she might buy Steve. He held his arms out and twirled around in the bright blue with black and white striped garment.

  Lucy, hand on chin, gave him a good look. “Not sure about that one.”

  Kate and Wendy returned from the restroom in time to give their opinions. Neither liked the blue serape so Kate picked a bright, rainbow of fruit flavors one, complete with fringe. Pierre put it on, proudly sporting it for all to see, and threw on a giant straw sombrero that said, “Mexico” across the two-foot Speedy Gonzales point. The monstrous low and wide brim stuck out three feet all around.

  He handed Lucy a purple, crushed velvet, silver-sequined mariachi hat. Then he spied a sequined fruit-covered hat, loaded with grapes, apples, a pineapple and a bright yellow banana topping it off, and popped it on Kate’s head.

  “Oh, yeah. That’s sexy,” he said. “You look fruitylicious.”

  “No, I don’t,” Kate said. “I look like Charo.”

  “Who?”

  “Oh, you know, big lips, hips and boobs. Says ‘cuchi cuchi’ a lot.”

  Pierre didn’t get it.

  The shopkeeper stood by the door and gave them the “stink eye.”

  Undaunted by his glare, Wendy moved on to the musical instruments and called for them to join her. Pierre passed Wendy a turquoise mariachi hat and handed Vivian a giant straw hat like his. Playing along, they put them on.

  Vivian thought they all looked pretty ridiculous. She had even momentarily forgotten her troubles and started humming to the sound of the wind chimes she was still holding.

  This brought out the band dork in Wendy, who handed Lucy some maracas, Kate a guitar “to keep up the Charo image,” she said, and Pierre a tambourine. She slipped a pair of castanets on her fingers.

  Wendy started singing “La Bamba” and clicking her fingers to the beat of the tune only she could hear.

  They all joined in, shaking their butts and playing their instruments.

  Vivian started to sing but forgot most of the words so she did her best to fake it. “Blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah.”

  Mid-way through turn two, the sound of her wind chimes turned into a clank. She stopped to undo the two that had twisted around each other and was about to get back to butt shaking when she glanced up and froze.

  Vivian locked eyes with Stella and tried to nonchalantly keep singing and chiming while completing her butt-shake circle. Time felt like it was in very slow motion. When she got all the way around she attempted to interrupt the song. No easy task.

  “Guys! Stella’s outside!”

  “Where?” Wendy asked, turning toward the store front.

  Lucy, still singing loudly and caught up in the musical moment, didn’t hear what Vivian said.

  Vivian was already moving out of the shop, trying to see which way Stella had gone.

  Everyone followed her except Lucy, who was still La Bamba-ing with her eyes closed.

  Kate stopped in the middle of the street to look around. “There she is,” she yelled, pointing with her guitar.

  Stella ran down the sidewalk between racks of clothing and other wares, past the shops they had visited before lunch.

  “Let’s get her!” Wendy yelled.

  “Where are you going? Wait for me!” Lucy called after them, her maracas and other parts shimmying and shaking as she tried to catch up.

  The maracas, tambourine, wind chime and castanets made for a musical chase. Vivian’s wind chimes tangled up again and the pleasant tinkle became a muffled clank. Pierre held his sombrero in place with his tambourine so he jangled with every stride. His fringe flopped, too. Only Kate’s guitar was silent.

  The storekeeper ran out after them. Wendy, not breaking stride, turned around and yelled, “We’ll be right back! Uno momento! Lo siento!”

  Vivian turned around and gave him a thumbs up. He didn’t look happy and pulled his phone out of his pocket.

  Lucy caught up to the crew. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s the crazy lady!” Wendy pointed her clinking castanets in the direction of the fleeing woman.

  “Stellllllllllllllllllllllllllllllaaaa!” Lucy yelled, Streetcar style.

  The silver sequins of the mariachi hats winked in the sunlight as the “band” sprinted past the food carts. The strap of Vivian’s sombrero was choking her, and the hat itself flailed in the wind like a loose sail. Kate’s fruit hat was still in place, but her grapes flopped around and her pineapple whirled in the wind.

  A group of tourists emerged from a shop, blocking the way and the view of Stella. Vivian pushed through them as quickly as she could, but couldn’t see Stella anymore. Lucy ducked through the crowd, too and caught up.

  “Where’d she go?” Lucy asked.

  “I don’t know,” Vivian gasped, looking around.

  The group continued down the length of the street, ending up by their car after not seeing any further signs of Stella. Vivian put her hands on the hood, doubling over from a raging stitch in her side. In fact, they were all gulping air, except for Lucy.

  “What the heck?” Lucy said. “One minute I’m channeling Ritchie Valens, and the next I’m Marlon Brando! Where did Stella run off to?”

  Sweat poured off Vivian’s head and Pierre, wearing the serape, looked like he was about to pass out. Wendy helped him out of it and he sat down on the curb.

  “She was right outside the store,” Vivian replied, fanning herself with her sombrero. Her blonde hair stuck to her head, tight spiraly curls clung to her face. “She saw me doing the ‘La Bamba’ and took off. I was hoping to talk to her, but I guess she doesn’t want to talk to me.”

  Vivian groaned at the sound of a siren drawing near. “Great.”

  Lupe and her photographer did a double take when they saw the authentically-clad crew, but recovered quickly and scrambled out of their car. As they reached the girls and Pierre, notebook and camera ready, a police car pulled up.

  Arturo walked over to them, shaking his head. “Aye yai yai.”

  A small crowd started to gather and stared at the quintet, a few took pictures with their phones.

  Lupe and the photographer stood close by, taking notes and also snapping pictures. Vivian had a bad feeling about this.

  Arturo said several calls came through about a disruption on Quinta Avenida and some people stole merchandise from one of the shops.

  His brown eyes sparkled. “I knew you would be here,” he said to Vivian with a wink.

  “Arturo, we saw Stella!” she said. “We had to try to talk to her, which then resulted in a chase and possibly some accidental shoplifting. We’ll go back and pay for the stuff.”

  “Let’s go take care of that first. Then we will deal with the other.”

  “Who is Stella?” Lupe butted in. “Did you steal that stuff?” she asked, pointing to their garb.

  “Beat it lady,” Wendy said, then turned to the group. “Give me some moolah. I
’ll go back pay for our unexpected souvenirs.”

  “No story here,” Arturo told Lupe. The look on her face said she didn’t believe him.

  “Let me deal with the shopkeeper,” Arturo said to Wendy as they walked off.

  They arrived back at the shop and Wendy listened to Arturo tell the guy something to the effect of, “Stupid Americans, they got excited over seeing one of their friends and ran out of your store.” Thank goodness he’s covering for us, she thought.

  Wendy smiled and waved her wad of cash at the shopkeeper. She then paid for the sombreros, musical instruments, serape and wind chime.

  Wendy gave him an extra $5 and said, “Sorry.”

  He slammed the cash register drawer closed with a “hurrumph.”

  Back at the cars, Arturo handed Vivian a piece of paper. “Call me if you need help again. No chasing.”

  “Thanks.” Vivian tucked his phone number in her purse. “I’ll try to remember that.”

  “You girls are too much for me,” Pierre said. “I’m going back to the hotel. Thanks for my sombrero and serape.”

  “Oh, a little something to remember us by,” Kate said.

  Arturo’s job was done so he offered Pierre a ride to the hotel. Before getting in his car, he opened the trunk.

  “No sombrero in the car. Aqui.”

  Pierre, mixing cultures of Canada, Mexico and Texas (which does have its own culture) in honor of Jon tipped his enormous sombrero to the girls and said, “Eh,” and turned to Arturo said, “No problemo-ola.”

  CHAPTER 40

  VIVIAN, LUCY, Wendy and Kate stood beside their rental P.O.S. on Quinta Avenida, still wearing their sombreros and tutti-frutti hat.

  Vivian contemplated what to do next. “Now what? Where do we go from here?”

  “We’ve lost Stella for now.” Kate tried to set the pineapple on her hat back in place. “She freaked out when she saw you, Viv. I wonder why.”

  “She sure can run fast.” Lucy fanned herself with her sombrero.

  “That is one weird chick, and I agree with Kate, she’s outta here,” Wendy said, tapping her nails on the roof of the car in frustration. “What other touristy places could we look for her?”