“Zahra?”
And why should I even try to explain it to him? He could think whatever the hell he wanted to think, we weren’t even serious or exclusive or… whatever it is people are when they casually fuck… Why should I care?
Why do I care?
“Z!”
I flinched, raising my head to see everyone staring at me. “Yeah?”
Devil’s gaze was filled with concern. “Are you okay?”
I blinked, forcing down a swallow. “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine. Did you ask me something?”
The room went quiet. Even Dog had stopped watching his telenovela, staring at me with that same concerned look.
Milk broke the silence. “Upper asked if Enrique’s associate gave you a specific date for Kareem’s arrival to Mexico.”
“Oh.” I shook my head. “No, he didn’t. He just said next week.”
“Got ya,” Upper said. “I’ll keep an eye on the airports, flight records, hotel bookings, and travel itinerary bookings, so we don’t miss him.”
I nodded. “I’ll ask around too. I actually spent some time in Mexico years back—”
“You did?” Milk interrupted with a frown.
“Yeah, but not for a long time. I worked at this tattoo parlor for a few weeks, and it’ll shock you how much these people pick up on words from the street. If a man like Kareem is arriving, they should have heard something useful.”
Devil nodded. “Okay, that should help, too… Tomorrow we’ll—”
“I plan to go today.”
There was a pause.
“It’s late already; wouldn’t it be best to go when you’re well rested from today’s job?” Milk asked, but I shook my head.
“I’m good to go today,” I said.
Nodding, Devil rose from his position on the bed, discarding his nearly finished burger. “I’ll come with you, just—”
“Oh no, I’ve got it.” I managed a tight smile, leaning off the wall. “In fact, I should get going, I, um… need to clear my head a bit, so I’ll walk for a while and head down there later.”
“You didn’t even eat your burger…” Dog trailed off, then frowned. “Have you eaten at all today?” he asked.
I looked down at the table where my burger lay untouched. “I don’t really have the appetite.”
Silence followed as they all continued to stare at me.
“I’ll be back later,” I said, exiting the hotel room without another glance their way.
It was still an hour until the meeting time, which was perfect because while I’d lied about wanting to visit the tattoo place, I didn’t lie about needing to clear my head.
So I walked for a while, stopped at a small store to get a pack of cigarettes because it was cold out and we were meeting at the port of Manzanillo, and also because I didn’t think to take a thicker jacket or a coat.
Elio would have definitely thought of that.
I grumbled at the thought, and a few minutes later, rented myself a motorcycle before driving to the meeting point.
I arrived about ten minutes early, parking the motorcycle far from the port and finding my way in. I fished for the card in the pocket of my jacket, following the directions, and stealthily walking between the maze of containers. The air was sharp with salt and machine oil, ground slick from the rain that had fell earlier. I shuddered as the cold air from the ocean nearby sneaked through the excuse of a jacket I wore.
