Traffic (Complete two-hundred pages) (Moving to Kindle Vella in 30 Days! )

31

ALCOBAS

INDEED IT WAS THE LAS ALCOBAS HOTEL in Mexico's Federal District. Jack's eyes rose up. All the doors were closed, but a beautiful balcony looked over the city in the rain. "Looks nice, don't it?"

"You have a nice life don't you?" asked the kid.

Jack looked at him. . .

And the kid looked at Jack. "I want your life."

Jack said nothing.

The kid said, "Where are you from?"

Jack answered, "Los Angeles."

The kid smiled. "That's where I'm going."

Jack winced with disapproval. "Why?"

The kid lost his smile. "My mom told me to."

Jack thought about that. He was still holding the bus door so it wouldn't leave. "Where are you from?"

The kid rubbed his neck. He was obviously disturbed by the thought of his home. He rubbed his face and his forehead as though he were already sweating. Finally he said, "Guatemala." He looked at the window and crossed his arms again.

"Hey," said Jack. And immediately the kid got the message and uncrossed his arms. Jack pointed to the hotel. "I'll bring you a pillow from the hotel . . ."

The kid smiled.

The bus beeped twice and Jack finally stepped off. Already wet from the pouring rain he walked onto the sidewalk but turned as the bus doors closed and the bus started rolling.

" . . . For your ass," he finished.

And the kid smiled greater and got onto his feet to watch his new friend Jack leave into the hotel. He hoped to see Jack back in an hour when the bus returned.

Entering the hotel, Jack touched the jagged rock he'd brought from the hospital. It was hiding in his pocket.

The lobby of the Las Alcobas Hotel was grand. A woman behind the counter in a white blouse nodded to him. Jack thought at first that she was smiling at him flirtatiously but one look at himself in passing the mirror made him realize how soaked the rain had made him. He visited the restroom and dried his hair and face with a towel. Good as new he returned to the lobby, the front desk attendant smiled at him with interest and he took to the elevator.

Inside he went to press the button to the 8th floor but noticed something strange. There was no 8th floor. Unsure what to do, he clicked the 6th floor to the roof and when he stepped out of the elevator to the 6th floor landing, there was no one. He walked around, listening as he passed by doors but heard nothing. Nothing but the sound of the rain hitting the roof and surrounding balconies. He took a trip to the roof. And there he saw no one. He looked at the rain and realized perhaps he got the address wrong. No.

His memory was fine. Better than fine it was perfect. He was trained in memory. What the hell? He returned to the elevator quickly. This time returning to the lobby. Was it the 8th room? He checked. Knocked on door numbered 8. No response.

Stumped, he returned to the lobby. And there was his girl again, the front desk attendant. Smiling at him. With interest of course.

He approached her.

"Hola," she said. All smiles. "Funny weather we're having."

Jack looked at himself. His suit was still drenched. "Yes. Not exactly summer pool weather."

"No. It is not," she said, speaking Spanish. Still all smiles. "May I fancy you an umbrella?"

Jack sighed and rested a wet arm on the counter. "You know I would fancy an umbrella," he said in Spanish.

"No problem, let me get that for you, sir--"

"But first," Jack imposed. He looked around the lobby to see if anyone was listening. The only person he saw was a woman in a white summer dress reading the latest Elle fashion magazine. So he spoke freely, "Can you tell me where the Presidential Suite is?"

At his words the woman reading the Elle fashion magazine lifted her head.

The attendant looked at him with brighter eyes. Greater interest. She assumed Jack was rich. "Why, yes sir. Are you reserving?"

"I might be."

"You might be?" the attendant gave him a playful smile. "Are you flirting with me, now?"

Hadn't crossed his mind actually. "Err-" said Jack before the attendant waved her hair flirtatiously.

"I get off at 8," she whispered behind her hand. "I'm usually very tired by then but tonight--"

"Okay," nodded Jack, moving right along, "and I was also wondering where the hell your 8th floor is?"

At his words the woman who had previously been reading the Elle fashion magazine stood to her feet and started walking to them.

The attendant was caught off guard. "The 8th floor, sir?"

"Yes--"

"Pat!" said the rich woman in the white summer dress. "Te encontre!" I found you.

Jack shook when she ran up to him in her high heels and hugged him. She was not wearing her bra today--

"Ahh," said the attendant, stepping back and gritting a pitiful broken smile. "Is this your husband, Señora?"

"Maybe, maybe not," she said, kissing Jack's cheek, making him pull back. She was considerably older than him. "It's hard to tell these days." She laughed.

The attendant looked at Jack as though she fancied him a flirt and a gold digger. "I can see that," said her eyes. Turned off, she pulled up her keyboard. "Will it be the Presidential Suite then, sir?"

The woman said, "Pat, before we check in I need you to help me with the car."

Jack decided not to hesitate. He could tell this was all part of the charade he invited himself to play. He answered the stranger, "Por supuesto." Of course. He gave the woman his hand, smiled at the attendant, she smiled back, and Jack and the woman left the lobby and the woman popped her umbrella before they entered the rain.

The stranger pointed to the car a few yards along the sidewalk. No one was outdoors, and the streets were just getting lighter under the morning rain clouds. "The car's over there," said the woman, breaking character. Her smile disappeared and her voice dropped to a serious tone. "Hurry up and get in."

When they approached the car, Jack found a man in the driver's seat and the back seats were tinted.

"You take the back seat there," she said. She got in the passenger seat.

The back seat opened. Jack came around and found a man stepping out and waving him to get in before him. Jack did. And when he entered the middle backseat, he found a man on the far end next to him pointing a gun at Jack's waist. Jack stood still.