Page 21 of Prisoner of War
She touched her cheek where it tingled in the wake of Duardo’s caress and felt dampness. She had been crying in her sleep.
That was enough to jerk her into a sitting position, wide awake. She had been doing way too much of that lately. Crying wasn’t going to bring Duardo back. She had to work her ass off to make sure that happened.
She dug under the mattress, pulledout her pouch of essentials and strapped on her watch. 8:12 a.m. The early morning breakfast rush would be over. She may even be lucky enough to find a bench with room to sit and eat at the table, rather than hauling her food to the balcony to eat from her lap.
She dressed and hurried to the kitchen. She was in a good mood. The prospect of moving closer toward finding Duardo helped. Mostly, though,it was the long talk with Calli last night. Her cousin had been the first person to seriously consider the idea that Duardo might be alive. Calli could always convince Nick...
The kitchen was busy, but not impossibly so. Minnie found Mama Roseta bending over a big pot of something boiling on the huge range. With a radiant smile, Mama Roseta pulled out a ceramic bowl and half-filled it with whateverwas inside the pot. She filled Minnie’s left hand with chunks of freshly baked tortilla and patted her cheek.
Minnie carried the bowl over to one of the tables. There was room. She climbed over the bench and tucked into her breakfast. It was some sort of stew—a touch of spice and lumps of vegetable and meat that was so soft it fell apart. She didn’t need a knife.
A hand rested on her shoulder.Calli sat on the bench beside her, holding a coffee cup. She didn’t climb over but sat with her back to the table. “You’re up late,” she told Minnie.
“Sweet dreams. I wanted to stay and keep dreaming,” Minnie confessed around a mouthful of tortilla and meat.
Calli smiled. “Duardo?”
“Who else?”
The big screen door that led out to the service driveway slammed shut, alerting the entire kitchenof a new arrival.
Carmen stood framed by the early morning sunshine pouring through the door.
From her clothes, it looked as though she had been out all night. She wore black patent leather ankle boots with high slender heels and a miniskirt in pleated red tartan. It was so short there was no way Carmen could bend over or even crouch and not give a full display to anyone in the vicinity. Thetop of the skirt skimmed over her prominent hip bones. She wore a sleeveless black denim jacket that stopped an inch or two above her waist. It hung unfastened, showing off her flat, taut abs and the glittering belly ring. Between the gaping jacket, the lace of her red and black bra was on display. Her hair, with the colorful highlights, had been backcombed and tumbled down to the back of her hips.It made Minnie think of Jane Fonda in one of her Sixties bombshell outfits.
Carmen took off her sunglasses and looked around the kitchen. “Mama Roseta!” she cried in a throaty, used voice. “Please tell me you have coffee,” she said in Spanish. “Good coffee! I have to pull myself together.”
As she spoke, she strode across the kitchen, her hips swinging, heading for Mama Roseta at the range.
As she passed Calli and Minnie, Calli coughed and spluttered over her mouthful of coffee. Minnie turned to see what had startled her and got to see Carmen walking away from her.
Carmen’s skirt was so short, the bottom of her buttocks were on display. The woman was either wearing a thong or no panties at all, for her coffee-cream cheeks were as bare as the rest of her long, slender legs.
Minniecouldn’t help it. The words spilled out of her mouth, “What’s wrong, Carmen? Tips light last night?”
Carmen turned to face her, her expression rigid, her eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
“Minnie, don’t!” Calli whispered.
“Clearly, you can’t afford the bottom half of your skirt.” Minnie pushed her bowl away from her, her appetite gone. “So that makes you...what? A shitty accountant, or a bad whore?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Carmen asked, switching to English and taking a step toward her.
Minnie slipped her legs over the bench so she was facing the same way as Calli. “Are you sure you don’t understand, honey? Because that right there, I gotta say, is proof that it’s not your counting skills or the way you fuck that is the problem. It’s clearly the complete absence of a brain.”
“You motherfucker!” Carmen screamed in Spanish, stamping her foot. “I will boil your gonads!”
Mama Roseta sucked in her breath and stirred her pot busily.
Minnie stood up and swept invisible crumbs off her T-shirt. “Whatever,” she said over her shoulder, heading for the door. She felt a warm glow of satisfaction because she’d left the perfect Ms. Carmen speechless.
“Carmen, no!” Calli cried.“Minnie, watch out!”
Carmen slammed into Minnie from behind, sending her flying across the tiled floor to slither into the leg of one of the benches. Her shoulder took the impact. She couldn’t scream or cry out—her breath had been snatched by her surprise.
Carmen was on top of her and despite Carmen’s slenderness, she was all muscle and heavy. She leaned over Minnie. “At least I’m not stupidenough to get the men I sleep with killed.” She spat in Minnie’s face.
Minnie wasn’t aware of the decision to move but she surged to her feet, the pain in her shoulder forgotten. The movement dislodged Carmen and sent her sprawling across the tiles, proving that she was wearing a thong, after all.
