Florida, 1979
Life’s a Beach and then You Die
PART THIRTEEN
The coke is wearing off and my stomach is making like a jumping frog. My head feels like a doormat at a wedding party. There is only one way to play it.
I hold the door open and slide my hand around her waist. Bring my head in close to her ear and whisper: “I think we need to recharge. We need to find someplace to dump this bus and get high. You and me got a lot of living to do. I sure want to get to know you better.”
I put my hand behind her head and gently pull her to me. I kiss her full on the mouth and let my tongue explore. I close my eyes.
The muscles in her neck tighten up and she pulls away from me.
“What’s the matter?” I ask, trying to keep from ripping her head off.
“Nothing, let’s just get moving.”
“And where is it that you think we’re going with all the stuff in the van? You can’t drive this thing out in public for very long, anymore than I can.”
“We go to the first beach road and leave it there like it’s for camping.” “We throw the shit in the car and go to a motel. Take care of business and then go our separate ways.” She smiles like an angel. “I want half the stuff.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Where did that idea come from for fuck sake?”
She blinks; her eyes glaze over and her face tightens up: “I saved your Yankee ass already today and don’t forget it. And don’t you be callin’ me dumb. You smart-ass boys are always thinkin’ yer so goddamn clever. Well, you listen here. I’m the one that saved yer ass this time pretty boy—and now we are partners. I’d sure as hell go somewhere and party with you if that’s what you want. But if it ain’t, I’m still gonna get my share of the dope. So you decide, smart boy.”
“Hey, no problem, I’ll just tell my Colombian financiers that I met a beautiful woman and decided to give her half of their dope. I’m sure they’ll be real amenable to that. Then they can send somebody after you for payment. No fucking sweat. They’ll just cut your pretty little head off and put it in a box.”
She blinks a few times like she doesn’t even hear me.
“Listen, Dorie, we’ll have to discuss this later. Right now, we have to get our asses out of here. I’ll follow you. But keep two things in mind: One, The Chevy is faster than the Volkswagen so I can always catch you. And two, if the cops do start chasing us they will be looking for the van, and not me in a Chevy. That of course means that you will go to jail and I will drive away. What I’m trying to get across here, is that we better get off the road real soon and do this thing real fast or we’ll both be real fucked. Comprende?”
“Oooh, I love it when you talk like that.”
“Fucking Christ. Let’s just go.”
“Si, mi amoret. Via con Dios.”
My throat seizes up.
(To be continued)
