Shady Lady

“You know,” I said, striving not to show my sudden fear, “I only have the clothes I’m standing in. Do you feel up to going shopping?”

Eva shook her head. “I wish I did.”

I’d known as much when I asked. I could see that her ankles were swollen and she needed to get off her feet. But I didn’t want her worrying in her condition, and shopping provided the most believable reason for me to scram as soon as I arrived. Dammit, why didn’t I consider the danger before I brought my problems to their front door?

Shannon started to protest, and I knew she was about to say she still had the bag I’d taken to Catemaco. I quelled her with a look. Not now. We need to go.

“Would you mind if Shannon took me to the mall in the Charger? Chuch will be home soon, right?”

“Yeah, he just popped down to the mini-mart. He’s going to be sorry he missed you. Are you sure you have to run off again?”

“I’ll be back,” I promised in Arnold tones. “But I do need to get some things, and we might as well take care of it before we rally the troops.”

Kel had mentioned something along those lines, I remembered. You muster your allies, he’d said. And plan for war. Escobar had compared me to a general, and I didn’t like where that comparison ended. Me, sending people to fight and die on my behalf. Yet there was no question I had changed; perhaps one day soon I would be cold enough not to care. The prospect unsettled me.

“You’re going to Del Norte?” Eva asked Shannon.

The girl nodded. “I know the way; don’t worry.”

Eva grinned. “I wasn’t worrying. I was going to ask you to get those Disney decals we looked at last time we were there.”

“No problem.”

When she tried to lever off the sofa to get her purse, I said, “Don’t get up. It’s my treat. A small thank-you for taking care of Shannon while I was gone.”

“Claro,” Eva said. “She’s family now.”

Though she tried to hide it, I could see the pleasure rising in Shannon’s pale face. Like me, she had been cut off from forming bonds with people. “Oh, goody,” she muttered. “We’re going shopping.”

Butch in bag, I climbed back into the car. On the way, I explained to Shannon why I didn’t want to linger at Chuch and Eva’s place. “And I don’t have anyone here I can ask to verify this amulet—that it does hide me and nothing more. I’m not taking any chances with their safety.”

Her lips firmed. “But you’ll risk ours?”

I hid a wince. Yeah, the game plan for taking out Montoya permanently wasn’t going to make anyone happy tonight. Unfortunately, I was committed.

As we approached the mall, I said, “Keep going on San Dario.”

If memory served, there was a Goodwill store farther down. I did need to augment my meager belongings, but I didn’t see why I should pay mall prices. I hadn’t grown up roaming consumer megaplexes as a kid, so there was no nostalgia in it for me, only expensive merchandise. And while I had a small wad of money from Escobar that added up to nearly a thousand bucks, along with the fifteen hundred pesos in my purse, I didn’t know how long that would have to last. I’d been broke and starving before; I didn’t intend to let it happen again.

I saw the sign ahead. “Turn there.”

For the first time since we’d gotten the car, Shannon smiled. “Okay, I’ll stop being mad at you. This is very cool.”

Whoa, she was more like me than I’d realized. We parked and got out; the lot was nearly empty. I wore a bemused expression as I followed her toward the building. Most people thought thrift stores were all seedy and disorganized, but I’d been in some that were better maintained than Wal-Mart. This was a nice one with the racks of clothing sorted by sex and size. I liked these places because you never knew what you might find; the treasure hunt appealed to the pawnshop owner in me.

I quickly located a couple of pairs of jeans, some tank tops, and a few pretty Mexican peasant blouses. Shopping in Texas meant I could satisfy my quirky sense of style. I found a retro blue cardigan to replace my old green one. I’d miss that sweater. Like nearly everything else I owned—and a few items were irreplaceable—it had been destroyed in the blast.

They had a small fitting room where I could make sure everything worked. While I was in there, Shannon convinced me to add a wide leather belt with some interesting stitchery on it. “I’ve seen the look in magazines. It’s kind of like yours, only—no, not like that.”

I stood patient while she untucked my blouse and fastened the belt on top of the fabric. Okay, I liked it. With a nod, I handed it to her and she put it in our basket. Pretty soon I had a basic wardrobe. Nothing fancy, but for fancy occasions I already had the white dress. I just didn’t know if I could wear it without remembering the look of admiration in Kel’s eyes. He’d lived so damn long and seen so many women. If he saw something in me to appreciate, then it carried weight.

She also brought me a plain black vest. I was convinced it would make me look like a valet or a waitress, but she paired it with old ratty jeans and a white tank. With a strand of chunky beads, I found the look suited me.

“Wow, you’re good at this. You should go into business.”

Enthusiasm lit her expression. “You know, while you were gone, I was thinking . . . we should go into business together. Like partners? You could sell your treasures, and I could do vintage clothing.”

“You mean a thrift shop, instead of a pawnshop. We’d buy on consignment instead of paying cash.” That would mean looking at lots of old clothes, of course, but from Shannon’s expression, she’d be happy to handle that part.

If I lived, if Escobar paid out, I’d have enough to rebuild. I owned the property where my shop stood through a fideicomiso , which meant through the good offices of the Mexican bank acting as trustee on my behalf. I had all the benefits of being a direct title holder, and the contract lasted for fifty years, renewable for another fifty, and I could transfer ownership anytime I wanted.

Belatedly I realized I’d kept Shannon waiting too long; the light started to die in her eyes. I answered quickly, “That sounds great. Kind of a spooky vintage place.”

“I know how we can attract the college crowd too.” As we walked, she outlined her ideas, and they were good, though I wasn’t sure we should display our gifts.

“No,” she insisted. “They’ll think it’s fake. That’s the cool part. But they’ll want to hear the stories of whatever we’re selling too. They’ll come for the entertainment and you’ll be able to tell which ones should buy what.”

That was true enough. “I like it. Start thinking about a name, okay?”

I had to think positive: new beginnings and happy endings. Since I had only my small gray duffel, the rest of these clothes needed somewhere to live. A little while later, I found the perfect suitcase, probably from the sixties or seventies. When I picked it up, it wanted to show me where it had been . . . and I let it. There came a minor burn, but no trauma in this bag—only the happy excitement of a girl going away to college. She used it in the early seventies and then tucked it away, forgot about it as the loud flowered fabric fell out of style. But I loved the crazy floral print and the red plastic handle with matched binding. The thing carried a price tag of three dollars.

Shannon sighed when she saw what I had. “You are so not decorating our new place by yourself.”

I grinned at her, leading the way up front. A few knickknacks distracted me, but I didn’t let them keep me long. I had no business buying anything until I knew where I was setting up home base. I didn’t let myself consider the alternative: that I had no future and Montoya won.

Another reason I loved thrift stores? My total purchases when the cashier rang me out came to less than fifty bucks. I paid with one of Escobar’s hundreds, and the clerk narrowed her eyes at me. Damn, I hoped it was clean. The way I was dressed, she doubtless thought I was up to something, shopping at Goodwill and dropping big bills.

“I got mugged,” I offered. By a firebomb. It was almost true. “So a friend wired me some money. I need clothes but I didn’t want to spend a fortune.”

Her distrust softened into sympathy as she saw the few pesos in my wallet. “Oh, honey, stay away from the border. They’re mean as snakes around there.”