I kiss her, licking at her lips with my tongue, savoring the taste of sweat and passion on her mouth, knowing she will be able to taste her own pussy on mine. I shake my head, smiling a little as we both recover ourselves. I press my nose to the crook of her neck and I inhale deeply, commemorating the scent of her to my memory forever. Natalia runs her fingers gently up and down my back.
“I don’t want to go back to my room,” she whispers. “I want to stay here. With you.”
“Then stay.” It’s reckless and so fucking dangerous for her to sleep here, but I can’t bring myself to let her go just yet. As I roll over, spinning her over too, so that her head is lying on my chest, I realize something, and it’s pretty fucking scary.
I don’t ever want to let her go.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CROQUET
Three days later
Croquet. On the same fucking lawn where Persephone was mauled to death by wolves only a few days ago. Fernando is one sick, sick bastard.
He is red and yellow; I am black and blue. He expertly knocks his first yellow, and it rolls right through his intended hoop, scoring him a point. I’ve never played croquet in my fucking life. I have no idea what the rules are, even though I briefly Googled them before we came down here. I’m probably going to screw up any second now, but when Fernando Villalobos asks you to come play a game with him, any game, you say yes, or you brace for trouble. The lawn is damp underfoot, the ground soft and sticky with mud. The rains have been consistent, showing up around eleven in the morning every day, sticking around for a couple of hours, oversized raindrops hammering into the earth, and then stopping in the most abrupt way, like a showerhead being turned off.
“You have been here for a while now, Kechu,” Fernando says. He has a small cigarillo hanging out of his mouth—surprising, since I haven’t seen him smoking before, and he doesn’t strike me as the sort of man who would conform to such a trite addiction. “Are you happy here? I was wondering, because you seem a little…tense.”
Tense is not the right word. Livid is a good substitute. Furious. Consumed by rage. I am all of these things and more, and trying to hide my feelings is growing harder and harder by the day. That’s what Fernando is sensing: my overwhelming need to dash his brains out of his head with my croquet mallet.
“Oh, y’know,” I say. “New York’s a crazy city. It’s a lot quieter here. I’m busy all of the time. I’m adjusting to having more time on my hands here in Orellana.”
Fernando leans on the end of his mallet, listening to me intently. He seems to mull over everything I say, pondering deeply. After a while, he stands straight, smiling at me like he’s an old friend. “I understand. You need something to do here, and I know just the thing. You must teach Natalia about America. For so long she has wanted to know about the country where her mother was born, and I’m ashamed to say I’ve discouraged her from her research. I don’t like to leave Ecuador, let alone visit the United States. It is my hope that Natalia won’t either. But she is a young woman, and young women rebel if they are told not to do something. Perhaps if she learns the good and the bad about America from one of the country’s own citizens, she will see how much better life here in Ecuador is.”
I take my shot, and I miss the hoop. I’m glad. Jamie would have a goddamn field day if he knew I was whacking a ball around a manicured lawn like this. It’s just not right. “So you want me to make the place sound terrible?” I ask.
“No. I simply want you to tell the truth. People here have a very warped idea of what life is like in America. They think it’s all sunshine and roses. That the politicians and the police are not corrupt. That the government are all seeing, and all powerful. That there is no poverty. No crime. No homelessness. If you are honest with Natalia about the true state of affairs in your country, she might not be so eager to charge over there, expecting every city to look like Hollywood.” Fernando takes his shot. The ball speeds through the hoop again with ease; he must play a lot.
“Well, I can certainly try.”
“Thank you, Kechu. You know, despite the hiccups we’ve encountered since you arrived, I find myself considering you a friend. Does that surprise you?”
“Uh, yeah. It does a little.” How about a whole fucking lot? I’m fairly sure he was hunting me in the forest the other day, while Natalia and I were in her hideaway. And he threatens me with death every time we meet. I guess when you’re a violent, insane dictator, you have a warped view of what friendship looks like, though.
Fernando nods. “Natalia thinks of you as a brother, and that warms me.”
I try not to react to this, but I’m crowing in my head like a madman. Yeah, she thinks of me as a brother all right. A brother she likes to fuck. Shit, if only he knew.
I’m about to take my turn, trying to think of something to say that won’t sound suspicious whatsoever, when Harrison appears, hurrying across the lawn toward us. He has a phone in his hand, and he looks like he’s just discovered the location of the lost city of El Dorado.
“What is it?” Fernando asks.
“One of our guys in the States,” he answers.