Author's Note: I do not speak, read or understand Spanish. The following is as close as good as it gets. It's a mish-mash of my rudimentary skills, college text books, dictionaries and the old stand-by, babel-fish. I apologize to the entire Spanish speaking community for the language massacre bellow. Language barrier aside, I am rather pleased with the way this section turned out.
Also the lyrics, set off by italics, are from the Season 5 episode Snakes.
Chumo tapped his fingers against the steering wheel in time to the musica while he waited in line at the aeropuerto. The richest fares were always the touristas. If he made the Americanos feel taken care of they tipped well. At the end of the day, the tips were what kept his esposa Beatriz happy. When Beatriz was happy, everyone was happy. He scanned the latest group of rumpled travelers coming out of the airport, looking for the best mark. He sang along to the radio in a warbaling baritone to pass the time.
No me puedes negar
Lo que te hago sentir
No me puedes negar
Lo que sientes por mi
There were two men, Mexicanos, and Chumo immediately disregareded them. He didn't want the guarda or federales to find drug mules in his taxi. No, that would be muy mal.
Yo me paso las noches tomando
Quierendo olvidar su recuerdo
Buena aquella noche maldita
He spotted two Americans, but immediately dismissed the young couple as well. Not because they were carrying drugs, but because they would only be going as far as the youth hostel. Their ragged mochilas spoke for them. He didn't have the time to drive cheap backpackers around.
Que por ser poderoso
Que mi vida jamas pasaria
Chumo narrowed his eyes and chose his mark almost as soon as he saw her. She was a rubia, wore a business suit and carried a briefcase and small carry-on bag: a perfect fare.
He popped the clutch and put his taxi into first gear, beating everyone else off the mark.
She was an older woman and she smiled at him when he loaded her bags in his trunk. "Buenas tardes, Senora. " He waited for a moment, to see if she knew how to respond. Most Americans didn't bother to learn a second language even if they went abroad.
"Hola, Senor. Como estas?" She smiled and nodded, obviously at ease with the language.
Chumo opened the back passenger side door for her, "Muy bien, Senora."
He shut the door and went around to the drivers door. He adjusted the mirror and looked back at his fare. "Adonde va, senora?"
The woman ran her fingers through her short, fair locks, "Un hotel, agadable, por favor."
He quickly pulled into the brisk airport traffic and started to work his way towards the road that would lead into Colina proper. He checked her over in the rearview mirror. Between her appearance and the amount of luggage she had told him she was no simple tourista.
"Tu quieres un hotel alededor de la nueva escuela de las muchachas?"
She looked up sharply, her eyes were a dark verde. She seemed surprised that he had picked up on such an obvious fact.
Chumo passed a slower moving autobus, and spoke without a hitch in his driving, "Lo sabia. Puedo decir estas cosas. Somos muy orgullosos de la nueva escuela. M hija va a atender. La educacion es muy importante aqui en Colina."
He saw her smile and cross her legs in the backseat, "So muy emocionado ser considerado para la posicion."
Her bag, Chumo noticed, was Prada. One good tip would go a long way to paying for Rosita's tuition.
"Usted sabe, podria tomarle para er al superintendente ahora. El es omo un hermano a mi, y se placeria muy encontrarle."
It was a bit of a stretch, Chumo did know the superintendent, but only because both of their families attended mass together at Santa Maria's. The senora, though, reeked of class, spoke the language and would impress the investors. A beautiful American was exactly what the school needed for a headmistress. If he helped provide a suitable candidate they might wave his daughter's fee.
The beautiful woman smiled, "Si, eso seria maravilloso. Gracias,"
She paused and looked for his licence, "Thomaso."
Chumo chuckled, "Por favor, mi nombre es Chumo."
The woman smiled at her and though he loved Beatriz, her smile enflamed his libido.
"Si, Chumo, y mi nombre es Victoria."
The song continued as he drove towards Senor Miguel's casa.
Yo soy malo y no puedo negar
Que desde me acuerdo
No he sido
La vieja resulto…mentirosa…
In the back seat Senora Victoria relaxed against the vinyl seat and watched la cuidad pass by. There was a small smile on the woman's face. He knew a few English phrases and, of course, the curses and generally considered himself learned, but he couldn't figure out what she was laughing about. The corrido began to wind down as he turned towards the school.
Pero en cambio le robe su vida.
Otra vibora por ser.
Senora Victoria didn't speak to him the rest of the ride, nor did she call anyone on her telefono. She only muttered to herself in English.
"I bet you never learned Spanish, Sara."
Her work was far from done. Yes, there had been mistakes, costly ones, but she had gotten away clean. She was in Mexico where backgrounds weren't checked and etraditions were few and far between. She spoke the language, and knew the culture. This place, where past and present met and mingled like asphalt roads and dirt-paced alleys was ripe for the taking. Less then a day in-country and she already had a job-prospect. She would bounce back, rebuild and flourish and there was nothing anyone could do to stop her.
To Be Continued In Mistaken Identity
Author's Note II: That was an incredibly long story that took more time to write and post then I imagined. I hope everyone enjoyed it, though. I went through three computers, two operating systems, two beta-readers and two cars between the prologue and the posting of this epilogue. It's been an odd year and some days.
The next instalment in this three part series will be Mistaken Identity. It's going to be a completely different sort of story then this one. It's going to be…a blast.
Lots of thanks to everyone for reading and especially reviewing!