Read GRINGA Online

Authors: Eve Rabi

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Dramas & Plays, #Regional & Cultural, #Caribbean & Latin American, #United States, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Multicultural, #Two Hours or More (65-100 Pages), #Multicultural & Interracial

GRINGA (67 page)

             

Si
,’ Tongue
says
. ‘I follow you all the time
, bebe
. I l
ove i
t whe
n
you swim
in the pool
with your tits out,’ he says, wriggling his brows.
‘Big tits. They real?’

             
‘You do?’ How the hell did I not notice him following me? I need to sit.

             
‘But the FBI – now that
’s
a different story
bebe
,’ he says, putting his lips close to my ears. ‘I wonder what Diablo would say to that, eh
Querida?
Maybe
he say
…yes I think he say, “
Tongue,
because
you lost your
fresh,
young pussy because of
gringa
, you can have her and
just …just
fuck her brains out any way you like
.” Right
?

             
Christa
guffaws and spills her whisky
. ‘He say that
.
Diablo say that. I think he say that.
Si
,
Si
.’ 

             
I realise I have to do something quick.

Aw fuck off!’ I snap. ‘
I
don’t have time for this s …shit.’

             
To
ngue’s
smile vanish
es
.
He takes a step towards me, his eyes like ice.

             
‘Tongue …you …you
get the fuck away from me!’
Panic overcomes me and my eyes dart around the room for a way out.

             
‘Know why they call me Tongue, Payton
?
Because I like giving it
and
getting it. Whachusay?
’ His voice is barely a whisper now. He suddenly grabs my breasts.

             
My reaction is swift.
I
hit him in the nose with the palm of my hand. He staggers back, holds his nose for a second then lunges at me and we struggle. I stamp on his foot and somehow mange to shake him off. I dart for the door and wrench it open only to find it’s a walk-in closet. The scuffle along with my terror has left me disoriented. 

             
Tongue laughs behind me. ‘Now I got you,’ he says in a sing-song voice.

             
Without thinking, I dart into the dark closet and slam the door shut. I hear him laughing harder now.

             
I stand with my back against the door, my feet firmly planted on the floor.

             
Tongue’s trying to open the door. ‘Let me in. Let me in.’

             
I push as hard as I can against the door, my body starting to shake. I’m in a worse situation now. I reach for the light switch next to me, hit it and scan the room for something I can use to protect myself. On the top shelf of one of the cupboards lie two 12 gauge shotguns. 

             
I leave the door and grab one of them. Please let it be loaded. Diago showed me how to use it. It’s loaded.

             
Pointing the gun to the door, I wait, expecting Tongue to burst through. But he doesn’t.

             
Strangely, everything is quiet. Not daring to breathe, I stand facing the door, shotgun in my shaky hands. 

             
Why could they doing nothing? Maybe they realised I have access to both shotguns? Or maybe they left the room? I know that both Christa and Tongue are always armed. Christa carries a gun in a shoulder holster and a spare in an ankle holster. 

             
There is a gentle tap on the door. ‘Oh gringa …’

             
Oh God! What do I do now? I don’t want to kill them. ‘Tongue …please …. Leave me alone,’ I say as I back up against the shelf.

             
He opens the closet door and grins at me. The sight of the shotgun in my hand does not faze him.

             
‘G … get out of my way or …
I’ll
…I’ll
b
low your f …fucking brains out!’ Even to me, my voice sounds weak and strained.  

             
He just chuckles and takes a step towards me.

             
Christa appears behind him, whisky glass still in hand.

             
‘Christa! Christa, tell him to leave me alone!’ I almost beg. ‘Diago will kill him if he touches me. You know that.’

             
Christa snorts. ‘When we tell him about you and the FBI, he will thank us.’ She turns and walks away.

             
‘Christa!’ I scream. ‘Christa! Please!’

             
Tongue smiles widens as I start to cry. He kicks the door shut behind him.

             
I am shaking so much, I don’t think I can even fire the gun.

             
‘Please ….’ I beg. ‘Don’t do t … this.’

             
Tongue takes a step towards me. His eyes are glassy, his breathing is rapid. ‘You are not going to shoot me. You don’t know how to use that.’

             
‘Tongue please, please …’ I think about the young girls he abducted and raped. Now I know just how they felt before he violated them. Helpless, terrified. I’m going to be one of them now. Tears stream down my cheeks.

             
He takes another step towards me. Slowly, he opens the belt of his jeans. ‘We have some fun, no? Just you and me.’

             
‘No … No …’

             
His pants drops and lands around his ankles.

             
I shake my head and cock the shotgun. Closing my eyes, I squeeze the trigger. The sound deafens me and the recoil sends me flying. I crash into the shelf and fall to the ground. For a moment I lie dazed, my shoulder burning from the impact of the shotgun. When I finally sit up, I see Tongue on the floor, face down, a hole in his back.

             
‘Ohmigod! Ohmigod!Ohmigod!’ 

             
I look past him. Most of the door has been blown away too. My shoulder is on fire and I try to examine the wound. 

             
Christa suddenly appears and balks at the sight of Tongue on the floor.

             
‘You bitch!’ she snarls and reaches for the gun in her ankle holster. ‘I kill you!’ 

             
I grab my shotgun, cock it and aim it at her. ‘Don’t Christa. Don’t please! Please!’

             
She ignores my pleas, cocks her revolver and aims it at me.

             
I ignore the burning pain in my injured shoulder and squeeze the trigger. This time a hot shell casing lands inside my bra. I scream in agony as I shake the spent shell casing out of me.

             
I look at Christa. She is lying a few feet away from Tongue and she too is covered in blood.

             
From then on everything becomes a blur.
Holding my injured shoulder, I stagger outside into the bright sunlight and squint.

             
They’re dead. They have to be
with so much blood
.
As I stumble towards m
y room
, I crash i
nto Maria
.

             
‘Senorita! What happened? I hear the gunshots.’ She looks at the blood spatter on me.

Santa Maria
!’ she screams, ‘They shoot you!
R
osa
!
They shoot Gringa!
Rosa
!

             
I shake my head
. ‘I’m okay. They …oh God Maria!’

             
‘But you are covered in blood
, Gringa
.’

             
Rosa
arrives on the scene and
gasps
at the sight of the blood on me. Then she spots the gun in my hand and screams.

             
Then Maria screams.

             
When they finally realise I’m
okay, she and Mari
a race up to Christa’s villa
while I
stamble to
my room
, lock the door
and
pace, the gun still firmly in my hands. After a while, I get into the shower fully clothed and turn on the taps.
The
shot
gun lies at my feet while I wa
tch the water around my ankles turn red. My shoulder no longer hurts. I guess it’s because I’m numb,
in shock and want to stay that way.
 

             
Some time later, I
stumble
out of the shower,
wrap a towel around myself
and search for
w
hisky
, tequila, anything.
I find bourbon and down three shots. It helps, my colour slowly seeps back.

             
I sit on the bed and hang my head in my hands. What a mess. How did it get so bad?
I need Diablo
.
He’ll know what to do. 

             
The police. Ohmigod! I’m probably going to jail for life.

             
I have to call
them, report the murders. Not
murders
,
shooting
. Report the
shooting
because it wasn’t murder.
But first, I need Diago.

             
A few minutes later Maria and Rosa
knock on my door so I let them in. They’re smiling so I’m confused. ‘
They are dead,’
Maria
announce
s and smacks her hands together.

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