I love you.
He stared back at me, eyes so perfect, so blue. Then he cleared his throat and looked away. “Are you ready to go?”
I took a second to compose myself and shot him a weak smile. “I just need to use the bathroom. I’ll be quick.”
Within minutes I was slipping a bra underneath my tee-shirt and heading out to Jose. The poor car looked even worse in the daylight. I was amazed it had even gotten us this far.
Javier was standing by the driver’s door and noted my expression. “At least the car will blend in with the city. Every car looks like this. Such a shame.”
I made my way to the trunk. “We should at least put on new plates.” I opened it, throwing my overnight bag back in and started rifling through the large Ziplock bag where I kept all the spare plates. There were about ten of them and two of them were foreign, one from British Columbia in Canada and the other from Tijuana state in Mexico. I took the Mexican plate out and waved it at them.
“This should help a bit,” I said and fished out my screwdriver from my spare toolkit. Man, it was nice to have my stuff again. I quickly took off the old Cali plates and put the news ones on, already feeling the heat of the morning sun beating down on me. With any luck, Jose would blend in with any old Mexican car now.
I brought out a pair of black shit-kicker boots that were extra wide at the top and had a leather belt around them that I’d added to them. They were perfect for stuffing a gun and strapping a knife to you. I brought out my Colt from the box in the truck and shoved it down my right boot, making sure it was secure. It looked awfully pretty next to the cherry blossoms on my shin.
I straightened up and looked over the trunk at Camden. “Hey where did you get the gun you were using last night?’
“Gus,” he said and my heart was immediately crushed at the thought of him. He’d come all this way with Camden for me and could be very well dead, if not tortured, by now. Every second we spent trying to get to Javier’s sister, the more Gus slipped away. But we needed Javier’s help, his knowledge of Travis, of the cartels, of Mexico. We had to help him before he could help us, even though I had a feeling all of us were equally wanted now.
I looked over at Camden and Javier, the wheels in my head turning.
“Javier,” I said, “do you think we need to change our appearances?” As it was I had a blonde wig in the trunk too and brought it out before he could say anything. I plopped it on my head and turned to look at them.
With Javier on one side of the car and Camden on the other, they both looked at me with a speechless expression on their faces. I guess with the blonde hair, I looked to Camden like I did in high school and I looked to Javier like I did when we were living together.
“Take it off,” they both said in unison then exchanged furtive glances with each other.
All right, so no disguises. I took the wig off, my scalp already sweating from it and threw it back in the trunk. I was okay with being who I was.
Camden pulled his seat forward and let me squeeze in to the back of the car. I hated being back there. I missed being in the front, I missed fucking driving, but knew Camden would feel slighted if I asked to change places and that was the last thing I wanted him to feel. More than he already did, anyway.
Javier pulled out of the dusty motel parking lot and drove steadily until we reached the first gas station. After we filled up, it was only about two hours before we reached the city.
I wasn’t prepared for the sprawl. I mean, I knew how large Mexico City was especially since it was the one of the largest cities in the world. I knew how far it was spread out, how many people lived there. But I still wasn’t prepared to see block after block of shanty houses reaching as far as the eye could see. There was no land, just houses. Just city. Just people. No wonder Javier vetoed our disguises – if you couldn’t get lost in Mexico City, you couldn’t get lost anywhere.
“Do you even know where to find your sister?” I asked him as he took the car down a busy thoroughfare off of one of the many intersecting highways. Traffic was thick enough to cut with a butter knife. The humanity was spilling out the city’s pores, leaking everywhere with poor beggars sitting roadside and skinny-limbed children playing in black exhaust fumes.
“Of course I know where to find her,” he snapped. “She’s family.”
I bit my lip feeling slightly chagrined, then said, “When was the last time you were here?”
He didn’t say anything for a few moments, just laid on the horn at a car that had cut him off with no apology. “Violetta doesn’t live in the slums. She lives like she should. I’ll find her soon.”