Flirting with Disaster (14 page)

“I’m sorry, Lisa. I’m so sorry if I made you think—”

“You didn’t make me think a damned thing.” She stuffed a notebook into her backpack.

“Lisa. Don’t go.”

“We’re done.”

“No, we’re not. If we don’t finish this engine—”

“What? We’ll get a lousy grade? What makes you think I give a damn about that?”

“This was my fault,” he said. “I’m the one to blame.”

“Oh, for God’s sake. It was just a stupid kiss!”

“But you were upset. I never should have—”

“Will you just forget about it? Carla will never know. Isn’t that all you really care about?” She slung her backpack over her shoulder.

“Lisa. Wait.”

She stopped and turned back, glaring at him.

He turned his palms up. “We’re friends at least, aren’t we?”

“Oh, my
God
. The oldest line in the book? Save it, Dave. I’ve heard that one about a hundred times.”

“It’s not a line. Not when I really mean it.”

“Friends. Right. Once you and Carla are married, I’ll come on over to your house for dinner some night. How would that be?”

He bowed his head, letting out a harsh breath.

“Maybe we’re friends in here,” she said. “But out there, you act as if you barely know me. Isn’t that true?”

He looked up at her again, and she saw regret in his eyes. “Yeah. I guess that’s the way it’s been. And that’s my fault, too.”

He put his hand against her arm, then slid it down until he circled her wrist with his fingers. “I know we’ll be going our separate ways. But if there’s ever anything you need, if I can help you somehow, I want you to call me. Okay?”

She glared at him. “And if your wife answers the phone, am I supposed to hang up?”

“Just call me if you need me. I mean that, Lisa.”

His dark eyes focused on hers, sealing his offer with an expression of total sincerity. She knew he meant what he said, and it only made her want him that much more.

“I won’t be needing you,” she told him. “You, or anyone else.”

She jerked her arm from his grasp and left the shop. He called after her, but she walked faster, then started to run. She circled the school building until she reached a secluded alcove where a pair of Dumpsters sat.

She slid down the wall, letting her backpack fall on the ground beside her. She rested on her heels, hugging herself, nausea overtaking her, tears flowing down her face. She bowed her head, still sensing the warmth of his arms around her and heartbroken at the thought that she’d never feel it again. Not once in her short, pitiful life had she ever gotten a damn thing she wanted. Ever. So she’d stopped wanting.

Until Dave.

To have something she’d wished for so desperately dangled in front of her, then jerked away, was simply more than she could bear.

Lesson learned.

She feigned sickness so she didn’t have to go to school those last three days of her senior year. She couldn’t have endured seeing Dave again. She couldn’t have tolerated sitting next to him in class or watching him walk down the hall with Carla. And above all, she couldn’t have tolerated the pity she was sure to see in his eyes. Or maybe he would have acted as if he didn’t even know her, and that would have been the worst blow of all.

Two weeks later, Dave married Carla in a ceremony at the First Methodist Church of Tolosa in front of two hundred friends and family members. The last thing Lisa did before leaving town was stand near a cluster of azalea bushes across the street from the church, waiting until the bells rang and the doors opened. Dave and Carla came out, all smiles, Dave looking so handsome it made Lisa’s heart ache. Carla wore a dazzling gown with yards and yards of lace and a train so long that it took two bridesmaids just to haul it around for her. For all the terrible things Lisa had said about Carla, she would have sold her soul to be just like her at that moment. The kind of woman Dave would want to marry.

But then she realized that he’d done her a favor. She didn’t really love him. After all, Carla was his ideal woman, a silly, dependent little fool who barely had a brain in her head or the ambition to do anything but play house. Lisa knew that any man who would want a woman like Carla would only make her miserable.

She was going to do more with her life. Much more. Flying meant freedom. Adventure. A life full of excitement. Full of the respect that low-life people in east Texas trailer parks couldn’t possibly hope to have.

Eleven years later, she’d accomplished all that, and more. But still she’d never forgotten Dave.

As the Mustang sped along the deserted Mexican highway, Lisa turned her head a little and blinked her weary eyes open just enough that she could see him sitting beside her. He’d slipped on a pair of sunglasses against the bright sunlight and kicked back in the driver’s seat, his forearm resting along the driver’s door and his wrist looped over the top of the steering wheel, looking every bit as gorgeous as he had as a teenager. As much as she’d been drawn to the high school version of Dave, it didn’t begin to approach the way he looked now— tall, strong, handsome, and in control.

Thank God he’d come. If he hadn’t, where would she be?

She knew where she’d be. She’d still be sitting out in those woods, getting progressively weaker, more delirious, losing strength, slowly going out of her mind. . . .

She didn’t even want to think about it.

Still, this was nothing more than a detour in her life. A momentary setback. Yes, she needed Dave now, but once they got to San Antonio and all this was nothing but a bad memory, she’d be on her own again.

And that was just the way she wanted it.

chapter eight

“Lisa? Time to wake up. We’re almost there.”

Dave watched as Lisa opened her eyes, blinking against the sharp sunlight of late afternoon that streaked through the windshield of the Mustang.

“What time is it?”

“Five-fifteen.”

“I slept five hours?” she said. “I told you to wake me up. It wasn’t fair for you to have to drive the whole way.”

“I told you I don’t mind driving. But I can’t say that I won’t welcome a decent bed and about twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep.”

Yeah, he was ready to be there, all right. He’d turned the radio on low, more to help him stay awake than because he had a fondness for Latino music, but still his eyes were growing heavy. He nodded ahead. “Monterrey coming up.”

Lisa stretched a little and sat up, looking ahead at the city sprawled against the backdrop of the Sierra Madres.

“Should we worry about anyone following us?”

“I haven’t seen any indication of it, but I’m keeping my eyes open until we can get lost inside the city.”

Ten minutes later they hit the city limits. At first glance, Monterrey didn’t seem much different from Dallas or Houston, with multilane highways, plenty of modern buildings intermingled with older ones, and familiar fast-food franchises.

Dave pulled into a grocery store parking lot and parked near a bank of pay phones. He grabbed a jacket out of his bag and put it on, then took the gun he’d appropriated from Ivan, stuck it in his jeans, and pulled the jacket over it. They got out of the car.

Dave stood next to Lisa as she contacted three aviation companies at the commuter airport. Unfortunately, because they’d hit the city so late, she discovered that the soonest they could get a rental plane would be tomorrow morning. She reserved it, then hung up.

“A plane will be available at ten-thirty tomorrow morning,” she told Dave. “That’s the best I can do.”

“So we’re stuck here overnight.”

“Looks that way.”

“Ever been to Monterrey?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Know of a place we can stay?”

“There’s a little mom-and-pop place on the east side. It’s cheap.” Lisa turned back to the phone. “I need to make another call.”

“Where?”

“Adam’s office in San Antonio. He’s in practice with two other doctors. Hopefully somebody will still be there.”

Lisa spoke offhandedly, but Dave knew the emotion hidden behind her words. She wanted to know for sure what had happened to Adam. If the people in his office still thought he’d gone down in the plane crash, that meant he hadn’t surfaced, which meant there was little chance that he was still alive.

This had to be hard for her, not knowing Adam’s fate and knowing that she’d escaped death herself by the slimmest of margins. She’d had a hell of a time the past couple of days, and it wasn’t over yet. Dave held his breath, hoping for good news.

A moment later, he saw Lisa snap to attention as if somebody had come on the line. Without identifying herself, she merely asked if a memorial service was being planned for Adam. Dave could tell from the look on her face that the news wasn’t good.

She hung up the phone but held on to the receiver, her head bowed.

“Lisa?”

She took a deep breath, then raised her head again, her jaw tight. She turned and walked back to the car. He followed, and once they were inside, Dave turned to her.

“What did they tell you?”

She stared at the dashboard, but still he could see her eyes glistening. “His memorial service is scheduled for Thursday morning at ten o’clock.”

She spoke matter-of-factly, but Dave heard the tremor in her voice.

“This doesn’t mean he’s dead,” he told her. “We just don’t know yet, okay?”

“You and I both know that’s not true. If he were alive he’d have told somebody by now.”

“We can’t be sure about that. He may have found out what was going on. He may be trying to get out of Mexico without being spotted, just as you are. Had you considered that?”

She turned to him, a glimmer of hope on her face. “Do you really think so?”

“It’s possible.”

She stared at him a moment longer, then turned away again. He didn’t want to give her false hope, but until they found out for sure what had happened to Adam there was still a chance he was alive, no matter how small. And even false hope was better than no hope when she was facing a situation like this.

Dave started the car. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah. Starving.”

“McDonald’s okay?” he said, pointing up the street. “Not exactly gourmet food, but it’s fast.”

“Fast is good.”

They grabbed Big Macs and fries and Cokes, and both of them were hungry enough to eat on the spot as they drove to the hotel.

“Take it easy,” he told Lisa. “You haven’t eaten much in the past few days.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, popping a couple of fries into her mouth. “I’ve got an iron stomach.”

Why did that not surprise him?

At Lisa’s direction, Dave drove to the part of town where the hotel was, and slowly everything took a turn toward the historic. And the festive. The entire area was an explosion of color, with street vendors selling bread and fruit and flowers and various kinds of artwork, along with big, gory-looking skull masks.

“What’s with all this stuff?” Dave asked.

“What day is today?”

“November first.”

“Ah. El Dia de los Muertos.”

“Huh?”

“The Day of the Dead. It’s actually two days, November first and second. It’s when Mexicans honor the dead, only it’s not a downer. They decorate everything, and some of them even go out to the grave sites and eat and drink and dance.”

“Okay. I’ve heard of that. It’s like a great big party.”

“Right.” She took a sip of Coke. “Not all Mexicans celebrate, though, particularly in the big cities like Monterrey. Some of them even go the Halloween route with pumpkins and witches and all that. But some people still like to uphold tradition.”

“And some people just like to party.”

“Yeah. It’s kind of like Christmas. Some people celebrate with three masses. Others just eat themselves sick and watch a couple of ball games.”

Finally Dave pulled up to the hotel, a two-story structure with heavily stuccoed walls stained by decades of rainwater, tattered awnings, and a rusted wrought-iron gate leading to a courtyard, which the native flora had pretty much overtaken.

Lisa pointed to an alley that ran beside the hotel. “This car is conspicuous. There’s a parking lot in the back. Wouldn’t hurt to pull back there.”

Dave swung the car around to park in the rear. He got out of the car, tossed their trash into a nearby trash can, then grabbed both of their bags from the trunk. A minute later they stepped inside the clay-tiled entry of the hotel, which soared two stories to a balcony above and was lit by a huge wrought-iron chandelier. The foliage explosion in the courtyard had made its way indoors, filling every corner with greenery and sending ivy crawling up the roughly textured walls. In a large gathering room beyond the entry, several people scurried around, carrying food and drinks as if they were preparing for some kind of celebration.

“Day of the Dead?” Dave asked.

Lisa nodded. “Looks like it.”

In a parlorlike room to their right sat a large table dressed with a mustard-yellow cloth. Spread out on it were baskets of bread and fruit and sweets, along with vases of marigolds and a parade of framed photographs. A large crucifix hung on the wall behind it.