A Meeting in Mexico... Part 1 short fiction

 This is a short fiction I completed while studying POV. The characters and their descriptions was given, and the student was required to make up the rest. I've made a few adjustments since the piece was reviewed.


                                                   The Mexican Affair.

Sabine watched Juanito lift the shot glass to his lips, skilfully avoiding the bushy moustache that threatened to interfere. She was disappointed to hear him say, "You've come a long way, Sabine, all the way from California to see me, but you can’t stay. You don’t belong here."

  She felt a brief stab of disappointment, before he added, “You don’t understand,  Sabine. This place... it is not safe for you.”

You don’t belong here, rang in her ears. She felt her face grow hot. Why did he make her feel naive, like a young girl filled with curiosities and expectations? She dropped her eyes, aware that he had extracted a long cigar and a box of matches from his top shirt pocket. She fought the desire to turn away from the suffocating odour as smoke rings floated upwards. What was it about him? His glittering black eyes regarded her steadily over the cigar, as his fingers absently flicked ash onto the floor, but despite his stance, his expression was inquisitive. She probably knew more than he realised; that her mother had been naive and shy when they made love; that he'd been wanted for murder and her mother had supplied an alibi, for instance."Do you think I don't know who and what you are?" she asked the man science said was her father.

That fact alone confirmed her long held belief that her step father, Leo Anthony, was nothing but an arranged patsy to save her grandfather an embarrassment.
"I am not some innocent white rose. Is that how you see me?" She needed to convince him of her toughness, her strength, if she was ever to persuade him to help her.

Taking a peanut from a bowl, she sucked salt from the shell. Juanito grinned appreciatively. She knew by his smile he liked how she rolled it across her tongue. Her years in Catholic school taught her men like Juanito Costanzos were evil. The kind who'd slit your throat soon as look at you, or so the nuns intimated.

 She judged he was exactly what she needed, but she guessed she was still a mystery to him. "I'm not stupid you know. I'm eighteen, and I was class valedictorian." Her battle for poise crumbled under the derisive laugh that erupted from deep in his throat.

She watched him finger his moustache, a smirk on his face. But was that admiration in his eye? She persisted, "I know you're the leader of Lobos Frios, but you don't know anything about me. I'm not a white rose," she repeated. She'd tried hard to look rojo like her mother, wearing a tight T-shirt that showed mounded breasts suggestively.

They were interrupted when a shaft of sunlight speared the murky club atmosphere, stealing their attention. Sabine could only see a black shadow until the man closed the door behind him. Struck by the contrast to her swarthy-complexioned father, Sabine saw a tall thin fellow, bald-headed, with wire-rimmed glasses and a slight paunch, accented through cheap grey overalls. He was as vanilla and ordinary as her father was exotic.

Juanito obviously knew him well, "Steele, come on over," he waved to the man. "Sabine, this is Ted Steele, the club manager."

She watched this man, Steele, as he weaved his way between the tables down to their end of the room, and drew up a chair. "Club manager?" She couldn't stop the surprise in her voice.

His undisguised appraisal unsettled her, "Sorry to interrupt, Juanito. Just going to open up," he let his arm graze Sabine's shoulder as he reached for a peanut. "Didn't know you were here. This that new waitress you hired?"

Sabine frowned, hoping she didn't look too virginal. This fellow would probably pay a week's salary to have her.

Juanito said, "No, this is my daughter." Steele's eyes widened, as did his smile. She shot a pleading look at Juanito in time to see him bristle, but was it paternal instincts or territorial ones that caused it?

When Ted Steele reached for a second peanut, Sabine recoiled at the smell of cheap aftershave and old cigars. Even in this dull light of Club Mexicana she saw murky brown, crooked teeth. She eased her chair back and swallowed against the bitterness coating her tonsils.

She hoped Juanito was being paternal when his voice rose a little and he announced, "All right then, time for you to open up, Steele."

Sabine was about to add more to her argument when deafening, crashing chaos claimed her eardrums. The loud explosion caused a burst of pressure against her chest. Just as if in a dream she saw the tabletop heaving up in front of her and felt Juanito clutch her by the arm and throw her to the floor. IShe screamed, and became conscious of a battery of gunshots that hammered at her ears.

They were both behind the tabletop. She hugged the floor, and glancing sideways, was horrified at the split-second chaos she caught at the bar. An exploding face, a human face, was now beyond help.
She could feel Juanito holding her arm, and his warm, cigar breath fanning her face.
When he said, "Don't worry, Ted will get help," she looked quickly at him with fear in her eyes. "What…" he started, then followed her gaze to the bar. There was nothing left but smashed timber and glass.

Then she vomited. "No, no Juanito," she whispered hoarsely. "Ted can't help."

The battering noise continued, racking her ears, sickening her stomach, and pressuring her chest. It seemed every square inch of room would be smashed.

Her father rolled her off the vomit. "Juanito," she rasped again. "Ted… He's gone… He's dead."

When she'd been flung to the floor, her first glance from behind the table revealed a ghastly sight. She saw Ted shot full in the face, splintered glasses and human debris disappearing upwards like an exploding soda bottle.

Juanito struggled to his knees to peer through a spy hole in the table. Sabine realised at that moment the table was purpose-built. Heavy wood logs, joined by thick bolts; it could kill a person if it hit them squarely.

Wetness on her arm caught her attention. She regarded the spilled alcohol spreading around them. The pool near her arm carried several peanut shells like miniature, rudderless boats drifting on the tide. A mixture of vomit, alcohol and something strong she couldn't identify, filled her nostrils. Enquiring from Juanito later, she would be answered with a shrug and an upward turned palm, "Cordita, old ammunition I bought once," he would tell her dismissively.

She stared at Juanito helplessly, as he sank down again and took her face in his hands. "Princess, Sabine, listen to me! I must get out. It is the only way for us. Take this gun and cover me as I leave. I will go through the back door."

Her terrified eyes soon revealed her ignorance of guns. "No no! I can't! You'll get killed! Please, no!"

"Listen!" he told her harshly, "if you don't take this gun and use it, we are dead!"

The gun was pressed into her hands and she stared at it with horror. Her finger curled on the trigger. "Before you shoot," he whispered, his lips almost touching her ear, "cock it, like this."

"But..."

"Do it! Sabine, you must! Look, lean to the side a little. You can see that black patch on the ceiling. You must shoot it! Keep shooting! Don't stop! When you see it all fall, you can stop."

"What? See what?" But it was too late. He was ready to go, and he nodded. His look told her, no time for argument.

She cocked the pistol and squeezed the trigger, feeling pain in her hand and wonder as the gun reacted. There was no indication she'd hit the black patch on the ceiling. She kept firing, gradually adjusting to the violence of it. To her amazement, she saw changes happening to the black patch, subtle but enough to give her courage. She ignored the blasting noise, and with a fierce joy fired more.

She almost let out a scream of triumph when suddenly a huge chunk of the ceiling collapsed inwards, tearing through the paper-thin false ceiling and raining down a noisy cloud of fire-cracking debris. Spontaneous screams added to the melee, and she heard a clatter of footsteps charge back out the front door.

She turned over and yelled, "Juanito!!"

 Her voice echoed in stillness.