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“Hey,” I said, tapping his arm.
“Sorry. I’m just surprised someone married him.”
“So were we.”
“I don’t see why,” FNG muttered. “It’s not like I’m not a good catch.”
“You didn’t even know her. She probably married you to get out of Mexico.”
“Mexico?” Tom said.
“It was a last minute thing. But I knew the moment I laid eyes on her?—”
“Twenty minutes before?—”
“—that we had something special. And when she killed those men with the corkscrew, I knew I’d met my match.”
Tom chuckled again, grabbing another hot towel to rest on my head. “You guys have the most outrageous stories. Tell me another one.”
“It’s not a story,” FNG insisted. “See, this fight broke out at a bar and she had to kill people with a corkscrew while I took out everyone else with an umbrella. It was a magical moment for both of us.”
“I’m sure it was,” Tom said, rolling his eyes.
“So, what did you do after you fled the bar?”
“Well, it was Mexico,” he snorted. “What do you think we did?”
I watched him intently. “Got drunk on whiskey?”
“No, but that would have been a great idea,” FNG nodded. “Let’s see…now, where did I leave off?”
“You and your new wife killed people with a corkscrew and umbrella.”
“Ah, yes. We took a moment to rejoice, basking in the joy of our shared interests. Mostly wine and cool weapons,” he grinned, shooting me a wink.
I glowered at him, not at all impressed by his story. They were long and drawn out, and then never seemed to have an ending. He just jumped from the middle of one story to the next.
“Anyway,” he said, staring off into the corner as if he was imagining Mexico from far away, “we ran out of the bar with only the clothes on our backs and a few bills to get us across the border.”
“Why didn’t you just use your passports?” I asked, interrupting his story.
His jaw snapped shut as he turned to face me. “I was getting to that part.”
“But you said you only had a few bills. Wouldn’t you find out first if you had your passports before describing the scene as having only a few bills to get across the border?”
He pursed his lips, clearly not happy with me interrupting his story. He shoved out of his chair and pulled a cigar from his pocket, then lit it up, despite the no smoking sign in the window. He took a puff, then looked up at the ceiling again, blowing out little o’s as he shoved his hand in his pocket and slowly walked around the shop.
“As I said, we fled the bar into the dark night. I headed for my truck, but she grabbed my arm and pleaded with me not to take her home. But we had to get out of Mexico. After the wreckage we’d left behind, it wouldn’t be long before half the cartels were after us. Fleeing was our only option, and in order to do that, we needed cash and identification. I still remember how wild her eyes were as she pleaded with me.”
28
FNG
Mexico.
Approximately 43 hours, 18 minutes, and 12 seconds since FNG’s return.
“No!”she shouted, pulling on my arm. “You cannot make me return to my apartment. If I do, I will face certain death.”
