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a threat, but it came off as a strange plea. As if from a child to a parent. There was a long silence on
the other end of the line and the longer it stretched on, the more uneasy Caleb became.  I ve failed
you Rafiq. I ll make it right. Somehow he d find a way.
 I m sorry I doubted you khoya, Rafiq replied, voice softening,  I know how much you have
sacrificed. It is only& 
 I understand Rafiq. He paused, briefly.  I ll let you know the moment I find her. Caleb hung up
before anything else could be said. He needed to think and the longer he spoke to Rafiq, the more he
thought about the wrong things though he had no clue what the right things would be. He d never been
one to grapple with slight differences.
Caleb pressed his fingers to his forehead and tried to alleviate some of the pressure there. Was he
betraying the one person he trusted? The heavy reality was finally settling in. Who was he all of a
sudden? Certainly not a man of his word.
Anger rose like bile within his chest. It was her. Ever since he had laid eyes on her she had caused
him nothing but confusion and conflict. He had allowed himself to feel& something. And she had
repaid him by pointing his own gun at his face. His fingers touched upon the left side of his face. It
still stung, in more ways than one. He pushed at his cheek, wanting to feel the tight, itchy burn just
beneath the surface. He should find her. Bring her back. Take control of her and in the process him. Is
that the only reason you want her back? He thought of her soft supple body pressed against his, her
arm wrapped around his midsection.
He d let her go, he d done it through his own stupidity, but he d let her go. And all he could think
about was that she hadn t even looked back. She'd just run away& from him.
He almost didn t want to find her, but he couldn t stop until he did. He wasn t going to fail again.
Focus and objectivity replaced the unease and confusion. It was time to pay a visit to the
bartender.
***
After Caleb had left the bar I had refused to move from my hiding space beneath the counter for
over an hour. At least I thought it had been that long, my sense of time was probably way off. What
had to amount to weeks of being held hostage in a dark room would do that. Finally, the behemoth of a
man who called himself Tiny had hoisted me up by my arm and shook me until I stopped my hysterics.
When I d calmed down, I d asked,  Why are you helping me?
He just frowned at me.  Because you look like you could use a lot of help. And you re American.
He d led me outside where the bartender, Javier, was waiting in an old, rusted, baby blue pickup
of indeterminate origin. I was scared to get in the truck. I didn t know where they planned on taking
me, or what they planned to do with me once they had me where they wanted me. I only knew Tiny
had told me I d be safe and he d help me. If there d been more options I would ve gotten as far away
from the dirty biker as possible. The fact was this: I didn t have better options, and he knew that. So I
got in the truck
We only drove for about fifteen minutes before we pulled up to a small concrete shack. Shit. My
fear never subsided, it even went up a few notches but as I looked around, I forced myself to keep
looking, watching. Ready to run. Chicken wire surrounded the structure and indeed a few chickens
were walking about, pecking at random feed strewn across the dirt. The air was thick with the smell
of heat and animal excrement. Still, there was a  homey feeling to old run-down building. There was
a child s tricycle lying on its side next to the house, one of the chickens was pecking at the torn seat.
 What are we doing here? I asked. I felt stupid, but hopeful. Hopeful we d be leaving for the
border soon. For a miracle or an intervention by God. I d settle for a phone. I was hoping on a lot,
and on a stranger. I was tired of meeting new people.
 We need to get you a change of clothes. Plus Javier has a phone we can use to make our
arrangements.
I felt triumphant over the existence of a phone, but then the rest of his words had set in,  What
arrangements? The sense of unease I felt doubled. Dread quickly sunk in.
Tiny snorted,  Like they say darlin : ass, grass, or cash, no one rides for free. And since you ain t
got no grass and I prefer cash to ass& I think you know where I m going with this.
My heart jumped into overdrive, thumping loud staccato beats in my ear: boom-boom-boom.
 How much cash are we talking about? I didn t want to confess how fucking broke my family was. I
certainly didn t want to have to pay in ass.
 Pretty little thing like you? I d say you re worth at least a hundred grand to somebody. I almost
threw up from the sharp twist in my stomach at his words. My family didn t have anywhere near that
kind of money. The only person I knew who could possibly have that kind of cash was Nicole, but it
wasn t hers to give was it? It belonged to her parents and I hardly knew them. Nicole was always
alone in that big house. Despair, cut through me. To escape, only for this. I stared at Tiny. I felt things
snapping loose, snapping in. Fight or flight. I was going to do both.
 And if I m not? I whispered under my breath, not really wanting to know the answer but having
to ask the question because it was a likely outcome.  Worth that much to anybody?
He looked down at me and smiled,  Oh, I m sure you re worth at least that much to your boy
Caleb. He looked me up and down, slow, leering, then smiled widely at me.  Aren t you darlin ? I
swallowed the bile that time. Where was the bartender? Where had he gone? Did it matter?
He grabbed me, my arm engulfed by one meaty, sweaty hand and he dragged me behind him as I
struggled out of his grasp. I was going to make this difficult. He laughed at me the whole way and I
knew I d done more harm to myself, than him.
The house was better kept on the inside than it was on the outside. There were even pictures
secured to the concrete walls, mostly religious paintings. Right in front of me, over the small, plastic
covered sofa was a picture of Christ on the cross, his expression pained, blood tears running down
his face as he stared toward heaven asking why God had forsaken him. I could ask the same question.
I d left the Devil I knew for one I didn t and it was going to cost me  hopefully a hundred grand, but
potentially so much more.
 Where s the phone? My voice was hoarse, on the verge of tears. I sucked in desperation and hot
air. I prayed Nicole s family would help me. I wasn t sure how huge of a long shot it was, if they d
believe me, let alone help me. Would they call the police? Hang up on me?
Tiny pointed to the end of the sofa where an old rotary phone, my lifeline, waited for me to make
the most important call of my life.
***
It hadn t been too difficult to find out where the bartender lived, a simple matter of waiting for the
regulars to arrive at the bar and then waiving large American bills. All citizens of dusty countries
understood the value of the dollar. American money represented an American life, a chance to pursue
a future deserved rather than destined. It was a future worthy of stealing, killing, and selling one s [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]