14.2 Ven Conmigo

When she stepped on Santa Monica Avenue, it turned out to be a sublime cool afternoon. A setting sun shed rays on the avenue, shone low over sunset beach in Ocean Beach. Her skinny legs gleamed in the sun in that tight little dress as she climbed the Bronco parked by the sidewalk in front of 4499.

In half an hour, Natalia reached The Presidio on Rosecrans and turned into the parking. She shut the car and climbed down, paused between the door to collect her sunglasses, purse and laptop, handbag on a shoulder, when Williams grabbed her by the waist from behind. His right hand seized her crotch in his mighty fist.

Natalia screamed throwing her limbs as she was lifted in air. “Put me down! Chris!” she cried.

“Come on, baby! Where’s it?” he tucked her dress and failed a grip. Williams, a thick round coloured man, carried her through the open café tables towards the lodge. Everyone eyeballed at the carroty legs shining in the red sunlight.

Then at the open staircase, she locked her heels on the steps holding all the items in both of her hands.

“Come on, baby!” he crooned.

“What do you want, Chris?”

“I want you, baby!”

“Ask me nicely,” she demanded.

“We dance!”

“Ouch!”

Williams climbed up the stairs and took her into his room that stood adjacent to Natalia’s. He dropped her in bed.

“Do you want a drink, babe?”

“Yes,” Natalia nodded helplessly.

“Craig!” he belched.

Chris Williams pressed the hi-fi system kicking the door close – ‘The Jealous Kind’. He began to churn his belly bottom slowly to the music and poured a large glass from the bottle.

Black hair framed a little face with red lipstick, she leaned back on the pillows with the glass in her hand, legs stretched out, the Fowler’s position, still wearing her ankle strap heels. Chris Williams loved the music.

Then she called Angela Herron in Staten Island, “Do you want to take a little vacation?”

“I am available,” replied the girl.

“I’m going to Corpus Christi to Komos festival. I will pay you for the ticket. Fly when I go there.”

 

Natalia parked in the grass and climbed down in a cute mini dress, iris colour, a scoop back with vertical panels in stretch crêpe fabric for a perfect fit, Nike shoes. Enrique reached her.

“Take this. Dad says I should not take it.”

“Are you leaving now?” asked Enrique receiving the camera case.

“Yes, I will make it to Baton Rouge in seven days. I’m not in a rush.”

Natalia took the turn on Santa Monica Avenue to Sunset Cliffs Boulevard and rolled on to climb I-8 where the long road started. She was on the highway.

On her second overnight at El Paso, she heard of a cult leader releasing sarin gas in a Tokyo subway killing thirteen people and injuring over thousand.

Seven days after leaving San Diego, she arrived in Houston. Turned into the parking from Lamar Street and no second thoughts. In the business district, Natalia reached the entrance and the door swung open. The mile she had to cross to reach the counter told of the cost she has to pay. Natalia stepped on the black and gold carpet looking at the pillars and overhanging beams. The girl at the reception knew there comes an infrequent customer who needs some assistance.

“Good Afternoon!” she greeted, “Are you looking for a room?”

“Please!” She removed the shades and glanced at the hall, “Good Afternoon!”

“We are very tight in City View rooms. I will show you the options.”

Natalia gasped. She could not hide that emotion. Nothing less exceptional including the prices.

“What are these types?” asked Natalia.

“Residential rooms, connecting rooms, pool-side rooms, family rooms, presidential suites…”

“How much is the City View?”

“Five hundred dollars per night.”

“What is the type?”

“Deluxe City View,” replied the girl, “If you’ll give me twenty minutes, I might possibly arrange a City View for you, ma’am.”

She glanced behind – hundred steps to the door and your own free will.

“Two nights,” she said in a low tone, “I will wait.” Perhaps, she could make an excuse with Captain Mayron saying that she arrived late. Natalia glanced at the clock. It was sharp 3:00 in the afternoon.

On the tenth floor, City View, a 35 square metre spacious room with a curtain window balcony and a view of the city, Natalia thought to take a warm tub bath in the cosy bathroom with gold plated fixtures.

Dressed in the deep-red mini bodycon, holding the purse correctly in the front, she reached the Bayou & Bottle Bar. A lot of people noticed as she entered. Some nodded and some glanced twice.

She sat down on a stool beside the counter and ordered a Chivas Regal. There was a Mexican group in the bar chattering loud by a corner, singing and dancing. One of them noticed and came forward to lean on the counter, “Hola! What is your name?”

“Mono,” she cleared her voice, “Mono.”

“Hi Mono! I am Carlos,” he said, “May I offer you a drink?” He got a moustache, bubbly cheeks and a smile, thick gold chains on his wrists and neck, “Tequila?”

She nodded.

Each had three shots and Carlos ushered her to his group in the comfortable lounges. Natalia sat upright and cross-legged. On a flat screen beside them, a girl in a knotted red shirt sang in Spanish. They played this song repeatedly. Natalia began to think that she had seen this face somewhere before.

When music changed to some good cumbia, he took her hand to dance. The Mexican crowd rumbled and stumbled brilliantly on the dance floor.