Chapter 11
The sun was just rising over the far mountains when I finally topped the last hill and rolled down into the long valley where Mexico City lay sprawling like a huge patchwork of browns and dusty greens.
I was bone tired. I had managed to stay awake and not roll into a canyon on the way, but I'd had to stop a dozen times for coffee. I was ready for sleep, now that I had made it to safety. There was no way now they could trace me back to the mess I'd left behind in Acapulco.
At least not for a few days. And by then I planned to be back in the states for good-After I had driven past the jagged black rocks of El Pedregal, beyond the University of Mexico, I started looking for a motel. I stopped at a small one, El Emporio. I signed in at the office, paid and got my key.
As soon as I was inside the unit, I locked the door. I stripped down, took a quick shower, then swallowed a couple of belts from the bottle. All at once I came unwound. I fell across the bed, and I don't even remember closing my eyes.
I slept until late afternoon. It was all the sleep I needed, because when I came to I was wide awake. I lit a cigarette and paced the room, feeling the restlessness building up inside me again. I had to move on.
I took another shower because I had been sweating while I slept. I wrapped a towel around the arm to keep the bandage dry. Then I dressed and started the car again. I drove until I came to a good restaurant on Insurgentes where they grilled steaks on a big brazier you could see in the front window. At night it made quite a flame.
I had steak with all the trimmings. It was the first real meal I'd eaten in a couple of days. After a third cup of coffee, I was ready to travel.
On Insurgentes Norte I pulled into a Pemex station for gasoline. I got out to stretch and smoke a cigarette while a half dozen kids swarmed over the car with wet rags, washing everything in sight, working for a tip.
"Headed north, amigo?"
I turned around at the sound of the girl's voice that had a kind of soft Texas drawl. She was dressed in blue jeans and a dirty gray pullover shirt. She wore a pair of straw sandals and she carried an old army duffle bag.
When she came up real close I caught a whiff of her. She smelled downright earthy. And that was a shame, because she was a nice looking little dame, if you washed away some of the grime and combed the tangles out of her auburn hair. A little paint might even have made her beautiful.
I pegged her for a beatnik type right away, and I wondered how she had strayed so far away from her usual stomping grounds, like Berkley or The Village.
"You must be headed north," she said, not waiting for me to answer. "That's the way your car's facing."
I gave her a smile.
"You on the ass?"
"You might say that." She pushed back a lock of hair and scratched her head. "I was down here studying the local arts and crafts. Someone busted into my room and stole all my money. So I got to head back to the states before I starve to death. If I'm going to starve, I'd rather do it where I speak the language."
"You're going all the way back to the states?"
"I'm hoping to-"
"Throw your stuff in," I said on an impulse.
I had an idea that she might just come in handy when I went across the border. If anyone there was looking for someone to peg the killing in Acapulco on, they'd be less-likely to pick a man and his wife.
She didn't look like anybody's wife yet. But that could be remedied.
"Thanks, amigo."
She opened the door on the opposite side and threw the duffle bag behind the seat. I paid for the gas and we drove off into the night. I'd only gone a block when I had to roll down the window. That unwashed artist smell got pretty strong. She was going to require a hell of a scrubbing.
"How about a cigarette?" she asked, turning in the seat.
I fished in the jacket pocket with my good arm and handed her the pack. The match flared up in the car as she lit a smoke for herself and one for me.
"What's your name?" she asked.
"Hank," I replied. "Yours?"
"WilmaBut call me Billie. I answer to that name better, especially when it's spoken soft and low."
"So you came down to Mexico and went bust?"
"I'd saved up a few hundred dollars and quit a job in the states, for a taste of the bohemian life." Billie puffed on the cigarette. "Had a nice pad in San Angel. My money would have held out for a couple of months, and you know they have this market every Saturday where you sell paintings. I'd managed a couple of sales. I just might have made it, if I hadn't been robbed."
"You completely busted?"
"I've got three dollars and twenty cents in my kick. You can figure how long that will last"
"Have you eaten lately?" I asked.
"Nothing very solid. Coffee and doughnuts. You know that sweet bread they sell." She laid a hand on my shoulder. "You going to treat me to a meal?"
"I'll do better than that, maybe "
"What's the catch?"
"No catch." I grinned at her. 'When I travel I like to put on a respectable appearance. like a solid citizen and his wife on vacation."
"Sounds like bull to me."
"Okay. I won't go into an explanation. Just say I'll take care of you if you play it my way."
"I'm game for anything, Hank." She gave a throaty laugh. "So long as it isn't too moral."
"Nothing moral about my plans for you."
"Whoopeee. Let's have fun then. I'm glad I ran onto you, Hank. We ought to have a swinging time."
"We should at that."
For the first two hours we sailed right along on the toll road. Soon we were passing through San Juan del Rio, a clean little town, as Mexican towns go. There was a sidewalk bazaar open next to a cafe. I wheeled off the highway and parked facing a low arcade.
"Why are we stopping?" Billie asked. 'Thought you were hungry."
"I'm starved."
She shoved open the door and slid out I caught a glimpse of a solid rump encased in tight blue jeans. She had the kind of trim figure that makes a man take notice.
The cafe turned out to be half cantina. A big door opening off the sidewalk led to the bar, where a band of mariachis were playing and singing. On the walk under the arcade were a dozen tables covered with red and white checkered cloths. In the window, a lamb was turning on a spit. Spicy smoke hung like a low cloud over everything.
When I pulled out the chair to sit down, I used the wrong arm and felt a sharp stab of pain. But the wound was healing fast, because I had already begun to forget to be careful. A couple more nights of sleep, and I'd be as good as new.
A waiter in a greasy apron brought us two dog-eared menus. Billie picked her nose as she studied the bill of fare. She had really gone all out playing the part of the beatnik artist. She looked over at me and sniffed.
"Can I order anything"
"Anything you want"
"I'll take the biggest steak in the house and loads of French fries."
The waiter nodded and scribbled on his pad. I settled for a bottle of beer, since it had been only three hours ago that I had eaten. It was a sight to see her put away a big side of meat and all the trimmings. When she finally pushed away the plate, I walked her down to the bazaar.
"We're going to buy you some clothes."
"Is that part of the game we're playing?"
"I want to make a respectable woman out of you."
"You don't really have much to work with, Hank. But help yourself."
I picked out a couple of dresses that weren't too gaudy. There was no place for Billie to try them on, but she held them up to her figure and decided they would fit. She didn't seem too enthusiastic. I figured she would rather look like a beatnik in the blue jeans.
But I was calling the tune.
I paid for everything and we climbed back in the car. For a while we drove in silence, then Billie slid over and leaned her head on my shoulder. She stared up at me through the tangled locks of her hair. The light from the dash fell on her face. It was a good face. All it needed was soap and water.
"What are you doing down here in Mexico, Hank?" she asked curiously.
"Traveling."
"On vacation?"
"Yeah. On vacation. Headed back home now."
"Where is home."
"Nashville," I lied.
It was as good a place as any to call home. I'd never been to Nashville, but I was planning to check that town over pretty thoroughly.
"You going to take me all the way to Nashville with you?"
"I might."
"You don't mind if I lean on you this way, do you, Hank?"
"Why should I mind?"
"I'll tell you a secret. I'm glad you came along. I was scared silly back there. It's no joke to be in a strange country with three dollars in your kick."
"So you're not as tough as you put on."
"I'm a panty-waist."
"I just about figured that."
She sighed and snuggled closer. I felt her fingers walking up my arm. She found a place and set the nails, clutching me in a kind of desperation.
"I feel safe with you, Hank. If I get back to the states, I don't think I'll come back to Mexico alone. It's not what it's cracked up to be"
"You're really letting your hair down, aren't you?"
"It's because I feel so good, after a big meal. A handsome man beside me, protecting me." She yawned. "Do you mind if I go to sleep?"
"Help yourself."
"Thanks. I believe I will."
It took her about thirty seconds to start snoring softly. She felt pretty good lying there, her firm little body pressed against me. I was glad I'd picked her up. This was going to work out better than I had hoped for.
I drove for about an hour through the night, taking it easy, because there were a few chuck holes in the highway. And ever so often you'd meet a big transport truck that tried to take all the road. There was one that was traveling without any headlights.
You take your life in your hands, traveling a-long a Mexican highway after dark.
When we came to Queretaro, I pulled up at a motel beside the highway. It took a minute to get Billie awake after I drove up to the unit with the key. I took her inside, then went back to the car for the suitcase and duffle bag. When I returned, she had stripped down and crawled into bed.
"Oh, no you don't-" I muttered. "You're taking a bath before I let you sleep."
I flipped back the covers and stared down at her naked body. Her flesh was pale with a slight pink flush. She had flaring hips and round, firm breasts. One leg was crossed over the other, and she had her arm above her head, shielding her eyes from the light.
I caught her wrist and gave her a yank.
"Hank, no-" she murmured sleepily. "Leave me alone."
I could see it was going to take some force. While she continued to nap, I stripped out of my clothes. Then I went to the shower and got the water running at just the right temperature.
I figured I could handle her if she didn't put up too much of a struggle, even with one bad arm. I caught her around the waist and lifted her up. She was lighter than I had expected. I carried her, kicking and squalling, into the shower stall.
She caught her breath when the water splashed full on her face. I put her down and grabbed the bar of soap. She gave up and stood submissively while I lathered her good.
She leaned against me and sighed, then turned away and shoved her rump against my legs as I massaged her breasts. In a minute she begun to smell sweet from the soap.
I shoved her head under the spray and scrubbed. Water trickled down her face.
"You're a meanie, Hank," she sputtered.
She turned to face me, and her eyes were bright. Then she noticed the bandage.
"What happened to your arm? You've got the bandage all wet. I'll have to change it for you"
"Later," I said.
"What happened?"
"Had a little acicdent with a piece of glass. Her eyes were suspicious, but she did not reply. Instead, she moved against me, winding her dripping arms around my neck. I felt the flushed warmth of her body as I grasped her waist with both hands.
A rivulet of water was pouring from the point of each of her breasts. It was warm in the shower, and I felt as if we were both melting and flowing together. It was a hell of a fine feeling. I let my hands wander as we kissed.
Finally we shut off the water and dried each other off with big bath towelsHer skin flushed a deep pink as I rubbed it. I felt her shivering when I carried her to the bed.
"This is so nice, Hank," she murmured.
She shaped her fresh young lips for kissing. Her mouth opened against mine, her tongue shot between my lips. A gasp burst from her throat when I took hold of a breast and began to tease the nipple.
The sheets were cool, but her body was warm from the shower. Her hair was still wet, making the pillow damp, but neither of us cared about that. As I lowered my head, she held a breast in each hand and pushed them up for me to kiss. I closed my mouth over a trembling cone.
Billie whimpered.
She released the breast and caught the back of my head, shoving my face into the creamy softness.
It was pretty wild for both of us. I felt her heart throbbing, and I felt her whole body shivering against my lips as I caressed the swelling mound.
Catching hold of the nipple, I drew it out, increasing the hardness. Billie let out a piercing wail. Her body writhed beneath me.
After that night in Queretaro I began to heal fast. It must have been a combination of rest, when I was able to get it, and good companionship. Billie made a first rate companion. I enjoyed her company across the long trip from Mexico City to the border.
We crossed at Laredo without any trouble. By then she was wearing one of the dresses instead of the blue jeans, and looking like a very sweet little housewife.
Only in bed did the unwashed artist in her come out. But it came out in such a way that I had