maybe a walk through the town will do me some good.
Chapter Six
Half an hour later, my ass is planted in a stool at El Bebida del Océano. It’s one of my favorite bars since not many people come here looking for trouble.
The thirty minutes I spent wandering the streets felt good, but eventually, I found myself wanting a good, stiff drink.
I smile at the bartender as he places a white napkin down in front of me and a small glass of Tequila. I like it when people recognize me for things other than being the harbinger feared by so many.
I drop twenty pesos on the bar top and begin to sip my drink. My eyes wander up toward the small television in the center of the bar. There’s a football game on, and while I’m not one for sports other than hunting people, I decide that’s better than nothing.
When the bartender starts to walk away, I lean up onto the bar top. Just enough to be able to see his shoes before I sit down and get comfortable again.
I’ve never seen him before, and I don’t think he was at Papa’s party, but one can never be too sure until verifying things.
I’m two drinks in when a man sits on the stool next to me. Instinctively, I scoot to the empty stool next to me, ensuring that there will be an open space.
He chuckles but doesn’t say anything, and neither do I. I don’t even look at him after glancing down quickly and letting out a deep breath at him not being the one either.
And the more I sit here thinking about it, the more I wonder how I would react if I ever found the man that hurt me.
Would I fight him? Would I run? Would I become so angry that I’d kill him as quickly as possible, or would I take him back to my shack and let Papa have him?
Too many options, not enough answers, and that bothers me more than anything else.
I go back to sipping on my drink and keep my eyes glued to the screen.
“You like soccer?”
I roll my eyes and don’t respond.
Clearly, the man that decided I wanted company also wants to have a conversation. And he’s not from around here; not if he calls football soccer.
I use the rungs of the stool to push myself up so that I’m standing and wave the bartender over. I steal a quick glance down at the shoes the pendejo next to me is wearing before I’m satisfied that I can leave this place with a clear head.
“What do I owe you?” I ask him when he stops in front of me.
“I got it,” the stranger says.
I grit my teeth.
Reaching into my bra, I pull out some pesos, toss them on the bar top and walk out. I can’t help but chuckle and shake my head when I hear who I assume is his girlfriend scream at him for “hitting on every pussy” he sees echoing behind me.
But unlike her, I don’t need a man to take care of me, and I sure as fuck don’t need any new friends.
Not when there are more enemies to be had anyway.
I don’t go home right away.
I’m much too busy walking up and down each street on the way back, looking at every fucking pair of shoes that goes by.
But no matter how hard I look for him, I don’t find him.
It’s almost like wishing on a star and realizing it’s nothing more than an old wives’ tale and becoming more and more disappointed as each star burns out in the sky.
I cross the street when I reach the end of a road I don’t know and keep walking. Something in the distance has my attention now, and I’m intrigued to the point of potentially putting myself in danger.
The closer I get to the flashing lights, the more a smile begins to spread across my lips.
“Federales!” I shout, cupping my hands over my mouth.
Fuck them.
If they’re trying to destroy another honest man’s business, then I’m more than willing to do my part to interfere.
I climb up the back of a small unmarked car that some of these pigs came in and sit on the roof with my feet pressed against the windshield as I wait for them to notice me.
I may not be a big deal to most strangers, but I’ll be fucked if these pendejos don’t know who I am.