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She sucked loudly. Then paused. “Don’t you know? I thought you were Mexican.”
“I am.”
“Sesenta y nueve,” she said. “Sixty-nine. I’ll remember.”
He knew she would.
This morning, wearing only her thong, with their suitcases half-packed, she stared into Oscar’s eyes. “Teach me,” she whispered. A tall, brown, handsome man, Oscar pulled her hands away. She wanted it most when it was most impractical.
“We’ll be late,” he said. “I’ll teach you all the Spanish you want in Mazatlán. If there’s time for anything besides…” He looked at her a bit sadly. In their short time together they already had a history of going places and not seeing too much of anything. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Among other things he had seen her asshole.
Oscar worried about taking Melissa to meet his father and brother but reminded himself she always behaved very well outside bedrooms. Attractive and intelligent, happy, enthusiastic and a little childish, this little blonde would impress his father. She would impress him for no other reason than she was an American. For a father who sent his boy to American schools, who encouraged Oscar to learn English from the earliest age, and delighted in Oscar’s American business and American connections, it would be all too good to be true.
“But, Papá,” Oscar reminded him on the phone. “We have only dated two months.” This to the old man’s enthusiastic inquiries about marriage.
“You’re too cautious,” Papá warned. “It’s like business. Make a decision.”
“Let’s see if you like her first.”
“I love her. Get married here.”
“That won’t happen,” Oscar said.
“You’ll make more money.”
“Yes, I know.”
“It’s the same with your brother. He won’t marry either. Or make money.”
“I make money.”
“Not enough. Get married.” That was Papá.
At the airport the lobbies were crowded with people in shorts and loud shirts. “Tell me about Carnaval again,” Melissa asked. As they sat she snuggled next to him. Looking down he saw her pretty cleavage. He’d made her wear a bra.
“It’s like Mardi Gras,” Oscar said. “Pretty much everyone in Mazatlán throws a big party, just before Lent. Sin before repentence, that sort of thing. Crazy costumes, Mexican food, seafood, shrimp and music. It’s mostly Latin, you aren’t going to see a lot of Americans. Or many rules.”
“I’m liking Carnaval already.”
“You would. I thought we’d go down to the Avenida del Mar, where the real action takes place. Just stay close to me.”
“Why?”
“This is a local festival. That blond hair might get you in a little trouble.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Just stay close.”
They slept on the plane. Sere mountains and naked valleys rolled beneath as the jet crossed into Mexico. The day was bright, blue, hot, Mexican. Oscar was dozing and woke when Melissa excused herself. After she wiggled he
r ass past him he closed his eyes once more.
“Excuse me, sir,” the flight attendant said a moment later. She touched Oscar’s shoulder. “Excuse me, but your wife needs your help.”
“Wife?” he mumbled groggily.
“Yes. She’s asking for you. She’s in the bathroom and she wants you to bring her purse.”
