by RoZita & Delorita

for Tammy

It was a little past dawn. Tammy was still asleep. Wanda, better known as Chatty, looked at her friend with a smile as she sat up in her sleeping bag, looking around at the Texas countryside, momentarily recalling what General Sherman had said about the state (“If I owned hell and Texas, I‘d rent out Texas and live in the other place“). She shrugged saying, “Crap” then reached over into her backpack and took out a handful of gold powder, blew it across the younger woman, murmuring something in an ancient Celtic language.

“Happy birthday to you, my dear,” she said. “Let’s see how this works.”

An hour later they were both on the road again, on the huge Harley fondly known as The Beast. They’d made a wrong turn the day before, and gotten lost. But it was too dark to do anything except camp out and resume their trip in the morning.

“Did you send a message to RoZita on your cell phone?” Tammy asked. “She’ll be expecting us tomorrow.”

“Yeppers,” Chatty said. “I sent her an email with it. Don’t worry, I took care of everything. We’ll be all right.”

Tammy, looking around at the barren countryside, wasn’t so sure. “This really looks like the back end of nowhere. Are you sure you know where we are? Shouldn’t I get the road map out? It’s right here in my fanny pack.”

“Nope. Honey, trust me, I can take care of--holy shit, will you look at that?”

“Oh my god,” Tammy exclaimed.

****

"Fucking car!" the handsome Mariachi said as he pushed back strands of his long hair from his sweaty face, then he tried to start the Chevy again. The deep wrinkle between his dark eyebrows did not disappear. He got out, opened the hood, and bent down to examine the engine. It looked like the distributor was shot.

“Piece of worthless junk!” he muttered, slamming down the lid and pounding a fist on it, half expecting the whole car to fall apart.

Nothing to do now but hitch.

After lighting a cigarette he put his jacket on, took the guitar case and began to walk, leaving the rust-bucket car behind. There wasn’t a house in sight. But he was used to walking and after breathing the smoke of the cigarette in and releasing it through his nose, he felt calmer.

But damn, the guitar case was heavy! He inserted a pistol into his belt. You never knew what kind of bad hombres were lurking about the Texas countryside....

****

"Now that's the best lookin’ thing I've seen on this damn road yet,” Chatty said, “not that that's saying a hell of a lot. I haven’t seen doodly-squat on this road today or yesterday."

"Think we should stop for him?" Tammy pleaded. "I don't think he's dangerous, do you? He‘s carrying a guitar case."

She didn’t know what came over her. In the first place, she would never have dreamed of stopping for a stranger on the road in the middle of nowhere. In the second place, they were on a motorcycle. But now she wanted badly to stop for this man. He seemed familiar somehow....

"Oh my god, what a great sexy butt,” she murmured before she could stop herself.

They brought the Beast to a standstill, then reverse, and soon the man was smiling at them. No doubt about it, he was not only the best looking thing they'd seen on the road, he was the most gorgeous piece of work they'd seen anywhere. Looked like God had blessed the latter end of him almost as much as the former end.

"Hop on," Chatty said. He looked very uncertain. Tammy couldn't believe her eyes. What a BABE! As she looked at him so closely she immediately felt a warmth and tremor in her body which she hadn't felt in ages. Oh my god, she thought. That beautiful face all covered with sweat...those dark brown chocolate eyes.... The guy looked somehow dangerous but not his eyes, which were friendly ....

And now he started to smile, a half smile ...she had never seen such a cute smile before....And there...oh my lord, he speaks....oh that super-sexy voice brings butterflies in my stomach....She leaned against Chatty as the Mariachi said, "Sí, Lady, I could use a ride but three on a motorcycle?"

"Sure, just jump up behind milady there. The Beast can accommodate three. Let's see what we can do with that guitar case...Damn, this sucker's heavy, you one of them crazy heavy metal guitar players or something? You sure as hell don't look like it."

Ten minutes later they were on the road again. Tammy felt funny sitting with his black-clad thighs embracing her tush, his arms around her waist, his hot breath on the back of her neck....She couldn’t resist looking into the rear view mirror of the bike where she could see part of his face reflected....he was soooo beautiful....

“So what’s your name and where ya bound, stranger?” Chatty said in an almost flirty manner. She towered over him but still thought he could scarcely be improved upon.

“They call me El Mariachi,” he said. Oooo, that voice, that accent! thought Tammy. “I do not want to tell you my real name, because I may endanger your lives if you know too much about me. Please let me be a figure of mystery to you. I killed a man in a bar on the Mexican border who was holding a knife on a girl. I only meant to knock him out with the neck of my guitar, but he died of a brain hemorrhage later on. Now his friends are seeking revenge. Strange, that a man like that has friends.”

“Wow,” Chatty said. “Looks like we’re gonna have a freakin’ adventure. Sounds good to me.”

Tammy thought so too, although she scarcely heard his words for listening to that deep and melodious voice. A heavenly warmth spread through her body as she imagined the Mariachi pulling her close to him biting tenderly on her earlobe and murmuring through the noise of the motor, "Lady, you look so damn pretty .. " She thought of his soft lips against her neck beneath her freely flying long dark hair and thought briefly 'does that really happen to me?' but then pushed the thoughts aside and decided to enjoy every tiny moment in the nearness of that mysterious but incredibly sexy guy. She laid her head back to feel every warm breath of him on her skin.

Then she saw something else, not quite so sightly, in the mirror also. A Ford pickup, in even worse shape than the car from the looks of it, which slowed down to get a look at the abandoned vehicle. Then it sped up again, spewing black smoke from the exhaust pipe. As it caught up with The Beast, it honked raucously. There appeared to be three guys in the cab, and three more in the truck bed. Two were Mexican and the rest were Anglo. One of the ones in the back waved and the others made catcalls and whistles. Chatty popped them the one-finger salute. Tammy saw El Mariachi scowl.

“Cabrones,” he growled reaching for his hidden pistol. She knew what that meant, but didn’t say anything. The truck sped off ahead of them.

“That them?” Chatty said.

“I do not know,” he said. “I have never seen them. I only heard they were after me. But we must be cautious. Do you know how to use a gun?”

“Do I know how to use a gun?” Chatty hooted. “I was in the army, toots. I don’t carry one, myself. But you can bet I know how to use one of them suckers.”

“I don’t,” Tammy confessed. Oddly enough, she didn’t feel fear. This felt a little like a dream to her.

After they had ridden quite a ways, they couldn’t see the truck anywhere. Or any other vehicles, or buildings of any kind. But at last, there loomed something in the distance, which appeared to be a convenience store.

“The Beast needs a little drinky,” Chatty said, “and I reckon we all could stand to tank up, right, El?”

"Right," the sexy guy said in a voice which seemed not to have been used in a while, and as he jumped from the machine.

Tammy had the feeling he'd stare at her behind when she got down too.

And she was right! “What a nice little ass,” he thought.

The store appeared to be just like any convenience store/filling station/diner you’d find in the middle of Texas. Yet there wasn’t anyone there. Chatty pulled the Beast up to the pump closest to the store entry.

“I gotta go to the john first,” she said as she popped the key into her pocket. “Yall going inside?”

“Yes,” Tammy said. “I’m hungry. How about...you?” She looked shyly up at the man by her side, who had taken his guitar case from the running board of The Beast.

He nodded, being clearly a man of few words, and they went in. A petite and attractive woman in her early fifties was the only person within, standing behind the counter working a crossword puzzle while a “Designing Women” rerun played on a small black and white TV set close by. She grinned as the couple entered. There was a mischievous twinkle in her light blue eyes that looked positively elfin, and her blonde hair was cut short with bangs. She wore a clean white Western-style shirt and blue jeans and her name tag read Jo-Belinda.

“Howdy,” she said and her eyes widened appreciatively at the sight of the man with the guitar case. “Yall doin’ all right this mornin’? What can I do for ya?”

“We’d like to get something to eat,” Tammy said. She almost looked at her companion again, but only glanced sidelong at him. The inside of the store looked very undistinguished, but spotless. There was fried chicken under the glass counter, a coffee maker with fresh-made coffee and Styrofoam cups stacked up beside it, a microwave oven with a case of doughnuts and honey buns next to it. And over on the other side, three booths lining the wall. Not much of a view outside, but at least the windows were clean.

And who needed a view with HIM sitting right across the booth from her?

Jo-Belinda took their order with an impish grin, scribbling on her little pad, then brought them coffee, explaining that it was “on the house.” As Tammy sipped the coffee, which was very good, she saw him looking directly into her green eyes, as though she were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Surely not, she thought self-consciously. This man could get any woman he wanted, she was certain. She wondered how she really looked, after riding in the wind out there, no makeup on, her clothes rumpled and sweaty. Surely she looked a mess.

“You are a very beautiful woman,” he said in that hypnotic voice, extending a finger to touch her cheek. She found herself paralyzed, looking into his fire-and-chocolate eyes, flanked by the most perfect cheekbones she’d ever seen, nose straight as a Texas highway, lips trying to one-up each other in luscious poutiness, the strength of the chin wanting to contradict the wantonness of the mouth, but only managing to complement it. A few strands of dark hair had escaped from the ponytail he wore and dangled with sweaty abandon around his face.

“There is a forest in your eyes,” he continued as the tip of his forefinger traced the line of her eyebrows, “and your mouth contains an oasis.”

She burst into a delighted laugh. No one had ever talked to her so. She thought of some of those old-timey TV shows where the man was sweet-talking the woman and she’d say coyly, “Oh sir, you shouldn’t SAY such things!” She’d always thought how dumb and cornball that sounded, but she’d been seized by a momentary urge to say exactly that. And she could feel herself blush as his finger traced the outline of her lips and then planted itself under her chin.

And just then Jo-Belinda came with their order, which steamed on the tray and smelled delicious....waffles...bacon and eggs....

“Yall ready to eat now?” she said with her elfin twinkle.

Chatty came out of the ladies’ room, which was located behind the store, glancing into the window just as the little blonde woman appeared with the tray. Chatty twiddled her fingers at the waitress and went to the pump to gas up The Beast. She had freshened up, thinking of the cutie-patootie they’d picked up on the road, brushing her hair and washing some of the grime of the road off her hands and face, applying a little touch of make-up, just a tiny bit. Then she hunted in her backpack for her credit card to stick into the slot of the gas pump, but had a time finding it. It was buried down deep in a bunch of other magical paraphernalia, so that at first she didn’t notice the truck pulling up to the other pump, even though it made plenty of noise. Finally she did find it, however, and that’s when she noticed it was the very same bucket of bolts they’d seen on the road a while back.

****

The food was delicious. Tammy wasn’t expecting it to be much, but it was the best meal she’d had in she didn’t know how long. She wouldn’t even have expected to have any appetite, with this gorgeous apparition sitting across from her. He even looked great eating. She thought of what he’d said about her eyes and mouth. Now he wasn’t saying anything at all, just looking at her.

The meal was finished before she knew it. She’d forgotten about Chatty, even. Soon Jo-Belinda came to take away their dishes, saying, “Yall ready for some dessert?”

Tammy expected her to say, “I make a mean apple pie a la mode” or some such line she’d heard in umpty-ump movies/TV shows set in Texas or wherever. But she didn’t. Tammy nodded and Jo-Belinda said, “Yall come this way,” nodding toward a door in back marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. They both followed her without question, without a thought for Chatty outside....

....and found themselves in a room that bore about as much resemblance to the rest of the store as the Garden of Eden bears to your local Kmart.

It looked for all the world like the house in the movie Spy Kids--it had that same phantasmagoric Central American atmosphere, full of brilliant colors and exploding designs, low ceilings and striking wall hangings and knickknacks, and a high bed in the middle of it all, with curtains woven with the most fantastic pictures imaginable, draped with strings of lights shaped like guitars and sombreros and maracas and tribal masks and little dancing girls in full colorful skirts. On the wall hung paintings of more dancing figures, flowers and fruit, birds and reptiles, animals and trees, fountains and angels, which, even being still, seemed imbued with life of their own. Candles burned everywhere, filling the room with a delightful fragrance. And a skylight of stained glass in a brilliant starburst design that changed even as they looked at it, it was a gigantic kaleidoscope, indeed.

“I KNOW I’m dreaming,” Tammy gasped, looking up at her male companion, who held his guitar case by his side and didn’t even look surprised to be here. Jo-Belinda cleared her throat.

“Looky here, darlin. I knew you were comin’ so I baked a cake, and there‘s some hand-cranked ice cream to go with it in that there cooler. I make a mean caramel almond fudge cake, I mean to tell ya.” She gave them a wink and was gone before either of them could get their bearings.

The cake was shaped like a guitar. Multicolored candles lined the strings up and down like streetlights, a cluster of red and yellow candy roses on each side.

And as the door closed, El Mariachi set down the guitar case, then stooped down to open it. Tammy half expected it to be full of ammunition and weapons, for some strange reason she couldn’t imagine why. Who had ever heard of such a thing? But inside was a shiny, new-looking guitar. He took it out--and that was ALL there was in the case. He put the colorfully woven strap over his shoulder and struck the strings without even tuning them. But as he played, the music seemed to be coming from the walls. Flamenco music, lush and passionate, and it seemed that each string was coming from a different direction. It gave a whole new meaning to the concept of “surround sound.”

Tammy had not known she could dance flamenco, but she found herself doing it, as if she’d done it all her life. Her hands seemed to raise themselves of their own accord, and her feet seemed to know all the steps, the music led them down paths of wonder and sorcery.

After a while of this, he began to sing, in a tune that seemed somehow familiar, although she couldn’t recall where she could have heard it:

Lady Tammy, happy birthday
Feliz cumpleaños á te
You are lovely, you are gracious
You will steal my heart away
Your hands are wings of angels
That transport me to the sky
Your body is a moonbeam
And your voice a lullaby...
Ay ay ay ay, ay mi amor
Ay mi morena de mi corazon.....

Voices seemed to be joining him from the walls. And before she knew it she was whirling, whirling, into his arms, their lips meeting in a kiss that could have lit every candle in the room....

And then they heard a loud noise from outside, shouts, and a scream.

*****

Chatty’s hand paused with the Visa card halfway to the slot in the gas pump, as the door of the filthy pickup opened and every passenger in it spilled out like cockroaches fleeing from light.

The driver was a big guy in a cowboy hat and a dirty grey sleeveless t-shirt, jeans with big holes in the knees, and boots with wicked-looking spurs. His face was streaked with sweat and dust and he had a cigarette sticking out of his nearly lipless mouth. His dark greasy hair was pulled back in a straggly ponytail that looked like it had never been taken down, and it had white streaks in it. The front of his black t-shirt said SKUNK in big white letters. He stared at the motorcycle for a moment, at the tall woman standing beside it looking at them. Then he went to another pump and began tanking up the truck.

Another guy wore a filthy t-shirt that might have been white once, but would never see white again, a pack of cigarettes rolled up in one sleeve, and his jeans were even more ragged than Skunk’s. He was skinny and had a face that made a barracuda look like a goldfish.

The third was a fat Mexican in a plaid shirt that hung unbuttoned, showing a dirty undershirt that didn’t quite cover his hairy fat belly....

Then there were the three in the truck bed who all jumped out at once. There was another, shorter, much leaner Mexican in a black strappy undershirt and he had a tattoo of a naked woman on one arm and a rattlesnake on the other....

...and a knife stuck in the top of his boot.

And two other Anglos, one a muscle-man type with tattoos all over his arms of...uh...you don’t want to know, and a mohawk haircut. The other had a face like something you might reasonably expect to find in a tool shed in the Pacific Northwest, considerably scarred up, long colorless greasy hair that hung over his eyes, and he was the tallest one of all. His shirt read:

IT MUST
SUCK
TO BE YOU

in unmistakable black letters.

The fat Mexican said something to the skinny guy as he looked at Chatty from behind....

(Tammy wanted to caress away the sweaty drops from the Mariachi's cheek)

and the skinny guy snickered and nodded....

(They seem to drown in each other’s eyes....)

They both had to go to the can, and as they went toward the back of the store they glanced in the window and looked in where El M and Tammy sat at the booth looking across the table at each other....

The Mexican, whose name was Tigrito, took his knife out of his boot....and the skinny guy, named Leroy, said, "That's the one that killt Sam..."

"Who is that with him?" Tigrito said. "I think I like a piece of her." He licked his blubbery lips and belched.

And then they saw the blonde waitress take away their plates, then beckon them to the back of the store, then they all disappeared through the door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY.

“Mierda,” the Mexican growled. He and Leroy went around to the back, bickering momentarily over who was going to go first. Tigrito, being bigger and stronger, easily won out. Leroy called him “greaseball shitface” in an undertone, flipped him off, glanced all around, then opened his jeans and took a whiz against the wall. Then he zipped up and went to watch his friends.

"Hey, red head lady," Skunk grinned, showing his lack of teeth, "I got a thing for a red-head lady on a bike, ya know that?"

Chatty turned with the nozzle in her hand just as she was ready to insert it into The Beast’s gas tank.

"Fuck off," she told him, “before I ram this thing up your culo, muchacho! You want me to put a tiger in your tank with Texaco?"

Skunk’s other three companions, who were called Ax (the one with the SUCK t-shirt), Cucaracha (the wiry Mexican), and Bunnyhunter (with the mohawk), looked on with smirky interest.

"Feisty," grinned Skunk. "I like my women feisty! Yeaaaahhhh!!!"

(Tammy felt the warm luscious lips...and almost a bit of his tongue)

"Well, I like my guys bigger than me, and at least one-third of my I.Q.," Chatty said, "so go screw yourself with an electric cattle prod, asshole. I mean it! You just don't wanna mess with me, toots!"

Jo-Belinda was watching, meanwhile....frowning....

"Big tits too," Skunk said. "I like big tits. And I bet you like a big one too. Wait till you see what I got, pretty mama!"

Chatty could smell his breath. A combination of rotgut whiskey, cigarettes, and terminal halitosis.

“I’m not your mama, and I’m about as interested in what you got as I am in scuba-diving in a sewer and getting seven root canals this Sunday. So piss off, motherfucker, before I ram your sparkplugs up your exhaust pipe!”

“Oh babyyyy,” Skunk leered, “you turn me ON when you talk feisty like that! Gimme a big kiss, pretty badass redheaded lady!”

("Beautiful chica, open your eyes!" The Mariachi bent down and kissed Tammy’s eyelids...aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh....held her in his lap....)

The others came a bit closer, seeing that Skunk might need help with this one. Leroy, not being the bravest of souls, stayed where he was, on the pretext of watching for El Mariachi to come out again...although, not being the sharpest knife in the drawer either, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do if he did spot the dude.

Skunk made straight for Chatty, his hands reaching out for her breasts. She lifted the nozzle, aimed, and fired a stream of gasoline right into his face...cigarette and all.

That’s when they heard the scream.

*****

“Chatty is in trouble,” Tammy exclaimed, pushing him away, however much she hated to do it. “We have to help her.”

The Mariachi followed her from the room, still clutching his guitar.

“Shouldn’t you leave that thing here?” she said.

“No. Trust me,” he said with a little enigmatic smile.

Jo-Belinda was still in the diner behind the counter, staring in horror as a man outside danced around all on fire. Tammy gasped. El Mariachi put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her down onto the floor.

“Stay down,” he hissed at her and Jo-Belinda. “They may have guns.”

Ax, Cucaracha, Bunnyhunter, Leroy, and Tigrito fled toward the truck, but unfortunately for them, Skunk had the key in his pocket. And none really cared to approach him in his present state.

“I shoulda listened to my mama and become a beautician,” Jo-Belinda murmured from where she crouched behind the counter.

Tammy covered her face with both hands.

Chatty reached inside the backpack and brought out a pinch more of the gold dust and hurled it at the burning, whirling figure. A puff of putrid smoke burst forth from it, and it disappeared completely, and all that was left was an actual skunk.

“Quite an improvement,” Chatty remarked. The animal looked all around in bewilderment, and the other guys stared at it gawking in consternation.

All except Bunnyhunter. He had snatched a rifle from the back of the truck and was creeping up on Chatty from behind with it. El Mariachi raised his pistol, but Chatty was in the line of fire and he could not risk hitting her. So, instead he tapped on the window, at which Bunnyhunter whirled around and fired. El Mariachi ducked. The glass shattered and a big piece flew in and hit him on the head. Tammy repressed a scream.

Jo-Belinda didn’t.

Chatty turned and flung some more of the magic dust at him, and another puff of smoke shot out of him, and behold, a figure that looked to be half man and half rabbit stood in his place! He still looked much like himself, but his ears were long and floppy, his nose pink and wiggly, with long whiskers sprouting out from them, two buck teeth poking out of his mouth, and a short fuzzy tail sticking out from behind.

“That’s not much of an improvement,” Chatty had to admit. “I must be out of practice.”

The others were scrambling about every which way. Cucaracha tried to dash forward but tripped over the skunk, which promptly “skunked” him. The stench overwhelmed the place and the others held their noses as they scrambled.

“I repeat,” Chatty said, waving away the stink, “I’m out of practice. And dammit, it looks like I’m out of magic dust too. This whole spell sucked up a LOT of it.”

Then, hearing a guitar chord, she suddenly turned about to see El Mariachi coming out of the store, strumming the instrument with an expression of intent determination, despite the fact that his hair looked as though someone had emptied the entire bottle of Heinz ketchup on his head. It was a frightening sight. Even so, he was playing a Mexican dance tune of wild abandon.

Tammy and Jo-Belinda came after him hesitantly, and he looked straight at the five remaining bad hombres, including Bunnyhunter, and played as though to keep himself alive. And soon all five began to dance. They stepped with expressions of confusion and terror, but they seemed unable to control their own feet. Bunnyhunter turned out to be the best dancer. He tapped and whirled, stomped and leaped into the air kicking his heels together, his ears flapping wildly behind him.

The other four took hands, against their own wills, and formed a ring around him, dancing in a circle around him. The skunk danced as well, by itself, slapping the ground with its tail like a beaver from time to time. Tammy was able to creep up on Cucaracha and take the knife from his boot. He scarcely seemed to notice.

Ax was heard to complain, “Ifeellikeagawddamnidjit” but he couldn’t stop. Just for the hell of it, Chatty picked a bluebonnet growing nearby right through the concrete and handed it to him, saying, “Everything’s better with bluebonnet on it.” He placed the flower behind one big hairy ear with great reluctance, baring his teeth at her like a rabid wolf. She smiled at him like a sweet little girl.

“It must indeed suck to be you, sweetheart,” she said.

But the Mariachi was losing strength. His music was starting to lose its potency also. He knew that if he stopped playing and the guys stopped dancing, all hell would break loose. The embarrassment of being forced to dance would bring out the worst in them. The women might well get hurt, maybe even killed.

But how much longer could he keep going?

The women noticed as well. Chatty stepped forward and took his gun from the front of his pants. He tried to stop her but she said, “Keep playing but don’t overdo it, chief. Save your strength. I told you, I was in the army, remember?”

“No more blood baths,” he said without missing a beat, through clenched teeth.

Then Jo-Belinda stepped forward, saying, “Get ‘em inside. I know what to do with them peckerwoods.”

Tammy stood in the doorway striking seductive poses, all the while looking at her Mariachi’s wound in terror. What if he bled to death, out here in the middle of nowhere?

Chatty directed the dancers into the store with the help of the pistol, and Tammy’s poses encouraged them further. Jo-Belinda stepped behind the counter and said, “Come to mama, boys, I got a little somethin’ for yall.” They followed Tammy, who walked with a hip-swinging dance step to the counter, and Jo-Belinda reached underneath the cash register and pushed a button or two, saying, “Tammy, step aside, hun,” whereupon a trap door in the floor opened, swallowing all five of them at once. The skunk, who had followed them in, turned and fled, well on its way to the Roadkill Café, as Chatty said later on. Jo-Belinda pushed a lever and the trapdoor closed over their protesting heads.

“Geez,” she said, rolling her eyes up, “men are SO easy!” Tammy ran to her Mariachi, who had given up on his music and was sitting down on the ground, holding his bleeding head.

“Oh my god,” she gasped. “BLOOD--Oh my poor baby--Chatty--help me get him in here...what are we going to do now? He needs stitches....” She looked helplessly at Jo-Belinda. “Please call 911...”

“Leave it to me,” the waitress said. “By the time the dadgum ambulance gets here, it’ll be too late for our hero. Come ‘ere, tall, dark and handsome, and hike that pretty butt up on this yere counter. Here, have you some painkillers. I ain’t the president of my quiltin’ club for nothin’, gals.”

And from out of nowhere she produced a curved needle, the kind used for both quilting and surgery.

“Think I bear any resemblance to Salma Hayek?” she said with a wink.

“Who?” Tammy said in total bewilderment.

****

El Mariachi awoke on the curtained bed. “Where am I?” he murmured, looking up at the kaleidoscopic skylight, then at the string of lights and the candles. “In heaven?”

“You are with me,” Tammy said with a loving smile. “You’re going to be all right now. How do you feel?”

He groaned a little, putting one hand to his bandaged head. “What...what happened?”

In lieu of an answer she bent over and pressed her lips against his. Her hair fell over his face and neck and one hand caressed his chest where his bloodied shirt opened over it. He groaned again, softly, but not with pain this time. Tammy climbed up on the bed beside him, brushing back strands of his damp hair, from which she had washed the blood.

“Are you all right?” he asked her, looking up at her with concern. His eyes were like two cups of coffee.

“I’ve never been better,” she said. “What about you?”

“I think...I will be all right...although I am not sure at the moment,” he said closing his eyes a bit. “What...what happened to those guys?”

“They’re not going anywhere very soon, but I don’t think we have anything to fear from them,” Tammy grinned. “Seems this store has been held up one too many times, and our hostess finally took matters into her own hands. If you listen very carefully, you can hear them.“

El Mariachi listened, a little frown forming between his thick eyebrows as he listened to the sound of muffled groans, shouts, whines, and curses that seemed to be coming from the floor.

“They don’t seem to be enjoying themselves,” he had to admit.

She laughed, then kissed away the wrinkle between his eyes. “Guess not. I can hear that big Mexican above all. Good thing I don’t know Spanish.”

Outside came a rumble that sounded like a motorcycle gunning the engine. Somehow it didn’t sound loud enough to be The Beast....

“Is Chatty leaving without me?” Tammy gasped, running to the window. But she couldn’t see anything. She went to the front of the store to see another Harley pulling up to the front, and there was a man on it in tight jeans, a red sleeveless shirt, and long hair in a ponytail. Tammy’s mouth fell wide open and she nearly fell right on the floor. Chatty, who’d been talking with Jo-Belinda, went outside to investigate.

“Well, I never,” Jo-Belinda said. “Your feller has a twin. Ain’t it a small world, though?”

Tammy heard a step behind her and there stood El Mariachi, holding the ice pack they’d made for him to his head. He looked out the window, then seemed to grow so dizzy the women had to make him sit down.

“He...he looks like me,” he said. “But I have no twin.”

Tammy shook her head, then leaned it against her man, still looking out the window as Chatty stood leaning against the stranger’s Harley.

“RoZita is NOT gonna believe this,” she said.

***The End***

Story Index