I was twenty-one, a sassy college student who took crap from no one. While holidaying in Mexico, I was accosted by The Devil of Mexico called Diablo and shot, because the s.o.b. mistook me for a spy.
I survived, only to encounter him again months later. How’s that for luck?
Furious and sick of all that I’d been through because of him, I slapped him, told him to go to hell and braced myself for the bullet. He could shoot me – I no longer cared.
But, to my surprise, he became fascinated with me and blackmailed me into becoming his woman. He’d slay the entire village that sheltered me, if I rejected his proposal.
He was Kong, hairy, tattooed from fingertips to face, with scary ass piercings, blood-shot snake eyes, a ruthless killer and above all, he was my murderer – how could anyone expect me to say yes?
To save the village I had to.
He took me by force, terrorized me into submission and made me his. To make matters worse, I had to put up with his ruthless, backstabbing family who hated me and wanted to kill me.
I despised the bastard and I told him that. Spark flew. Fists too.
But, the more I rejected Diablo, the more he wanted me.
At times he wanted to kill me because of my insolence, but other times he just wanted me to love him.
I was his Gringa and in an attempt to get my love, he began to change for me. Drastic changes that made me laugh at him at first, then made me curious.
As the days went by, I found myself drawn to him and I began seeing him differently. When I found out about his past, everything changed.
He grabs me by the scruff of my neck and drags me out of the room to the lunch table.
‘Leave me the fuck alone!’
He shoves me into the dining room. It’s Saturday so that entire gang is there, in the mood to party and to be entertained. Watching Diablo drag me to the table gets them excited.
Humiliated and seething, I sit down and drum my nails on the table. I don’t eat or look at him.
‘Eat!’ he orders.
I ignore him and drum louder, furiously.
A man named Norman, seated next to me, leans over and says, ‘Señorita gringa want Whisky?
‘Yes please, Norman.’
Norman pours the whisky and places the glass in front of me.
‘Thank you Norman,’ I say, bypassing the glass and reaching for the bottle.
Norman’s eyes grow huge when he sees me taking giant swigs from the bottle.
It’s awful. I hate whisky. Tastes like gasoline to me.
‘Damn!’ I say, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. ‘This sure is mighty fine whisky, Norman.’
‘Eh, Señorita gringa, my name …’
‘Lemme pour you one, Norman.’ I top his glass to the brim and hand it to him. ‘Knock yourself out,’ I chuckle.
Diablo’s not smiling.
Yeah, I’m supposed to be nice to him now that the FBI is involved. Well, fuck the FBI and Fuck him.
As lunch progresses, I’m feeling a little more relaxed now. Warm in my toes and even a little confident. Well, they’re eating lunch and I’m drinking mine – whisky, Tequila and some other shit on the table.
After a few more swigs from the bottles, I cross my arms over my head and whistle Hit me Baby One More Time by Brittany bitch. Totally out of tune, but hey, who gives a fuck right now.
Diablo’s hairy face reveals little, but somehow I don’t think he’s comfortable with my drinking. Hell, I’m not comfortable with my drinking, but screw him.
They’re passing around pictures. Pornographic pictures and the conversation becomes steamy.
Usually, I pass on the pictures, but today, I snatch them out of Norman’s hand. ‘Lemme see that!’
I peer at the picture then burst out laughing. ‘That’s the fugliest flower I have ever come across,’ I say.
‘Eh, Señorita gringa, iiis not a flower, iiis a, how you say it…?’ He snaps his fingers.
‘Vagina,’ some other fucker calls out.
I peer at him. ‘What?!’ I snatch it out of his hands again. ‘Gimmee that.’ I stare at the picture. ‘Mm. Can’t be a woman’s vagina. It’s too fugly. Has to be a man’s.’ I hand him back the picture and go back to my neglected bottle.
‘So many Gringas,’ Antonio says, perving over the pictures. At the mention of the word ‘Gringa’, all eyes zero in on me.
Am I embarrassed? Hell no!
‘Hey, don’t look at me,’ I say and down another Tequila, whisky – whatever – I’ve lost track of what I’m drinking. ‘I don’t roll that way. Why don’t you ask the fugly asshole at the end of the table?’
There is a collective gasp in the room and all eyes dart towards Diablo, including mine. Now he’s gonna be really pissed. Great.
But his amused response in Spanish brings on some guffawing.
‘What? What did he say, Norman?’
Norman is pissed enough to explain. ‘Diablo say, is like a fucking a Colchón sometimes. He say, is a big let down. And, Señorita Gringa, and my name is not …’
‘Colchón … mattress? He said that, did he?’ I let out a long, low whistle. ‘Well Norm, what the hell does he know, huh?’
I smile at Norman. ‘Can I call you “Norm?” I don’t wait for him to answer. ‘He don’t know jack. Foreplay – hell, he probably thinks it’s some kind of sugar-free chewing gum or something to do with his car’s steering wheel. Huh, Norm?’
‘But Señorita gringa, my name is not Norm, it is not Norman, it is Lucas.’
I stare at him for so long, he starts to flinch. ‘Lucas?’
‘Why didn’t you say something, Norm? Okay, I’ll call you Lucas from now on, Norm.’
Santana almost falls off her chair laughing.
I look at Norm. ‘Now Norm,’ I point to Santana, ‘she’s probably laughing at what I said. Or she’s laughing at what the fuckwit at the end of the table said about me – the mattress – whatever shit …but, you ever seen a donkey laugh, Norm?
‘No, Señorita gringa. But my name …’
‘Never? Well, it’s your lucky day, Norm, cos you’ve seen it now.’ I jerk my head towards Santana.
Well, that magically erases the smile of donkey’s face.
‘You biiitch!’ Santana screeches. ‘I fargin’ kiiill you!’
I smile and raise my bottle at her. ‘Take a “fargin” number and get in “fargin” line.’
Troy comes up to me. ‘Gringa,’ he whispers, ‘come, let me take you to bed so you can sleep it … ’
My eyebrows shoot up. ‘Take me to bed? Are you better in bed than your brother? Christ, I hope so, Troy!’
Troy turns scarlet and shrinks back, all the while glancing nervously at Diablo.
Diablo looks at everyone around him falling out of their chairs with laughter and his breathing becomes like that of an emphysema patient – raspy and labored.
‘He really is lousy in bed Troy. And you know what? I don’t like him. He’s hairy and yuuuuck! He won’t let me visit my … ’
Diablo slams his fist onto the table, rattling the table and animating plates, cutlery, glasses.
‘Fuck! Look what you did Satan – you nearly made me spill my …’ I jerk back and peer at the label on the bottle in my hand. ‘What the fuck is this shit? Anyhoo, you’ve made me lose count of how many drinks I had. Have to start all over again. In case I have to drive.’
Diablo suddenly whips out his knife and flings it ninja-style at me. I duck and it hits the wooden beam behind me.
‘Ooooh!’ I cry shaking both my hands mockingly. ‘I’m in trooouble now! Biiiiga trooouble.’
‘Go gringa, go!’ some of the men cheer.
‘Whoookay!’ I say.
Diago stands up.
I stand up too and look him in the eye, my eyebrows disappearing behind my spiky fringe.
Breathing heavily, he creeps slowly to me, but I’m ready for him. I kick back my chair and sidle around, using the table as a barrier between us.
‘Watch him move, like a … eh, what you say for walrus in Spanish?’
The men laugh harder. Even Christa laughs.
‘You will farkin’ die!’ Diablo roars.
‘And who’s gonna farkin kill me, huh?’ I ask, dancing on the spot. ‘You?’ I throw my head back and laugh.
More laughter around me.
Diablo runs to his knife, grabs it off the beam and runs towards me.
But I’m already out of the villa and racing towards the cliff.
‘I’m going to kiiiill you!’ he yells as he chases me.
‘Fuck you, motherfucker!’ I scream over my shoulder and sprint ahead. I don’t care if he kills me, I just don’t want to be assaulted by him. He’s super strong and I stand no chance against him if he does. I’ve never seen him run before and I’m hoping he’s out of shape and slow. Well, the big lunch should make him sluggish.
But to my dismay, I can actually hear his breathing. I’m surprised at my slowness. Must be something to do with the booze. I have to admit, I didn’t realize how drunk I was until I started running. Too late now.
I run up the hill and through the dense foliage, passing startled villagers tending the cannabis crops. They stop and stare when they see Diablo chasing a gringa with a knife in his hand. Behind Diablo are his men, some on horseback and some on foot, not wanting to miss the moment Diablo finally kills the insolent Gringa.
‘Go, gringa go!’ I hear.
I run faster than I ever did in my life.
‘You will die!’ Diablo threatens behind me, still brandishing the knife. His breathing is getting louder and I know I have to do something.
The rock pool! I know for sure that Diablo is no match for me in the water. Very few people are. I head for the pool.
Changing route confuses Diablo and for a few moments, the gap between us increases, allowing me some respite.
I’m desperate to reach the rock pool so that I can shake the enraged animal behind me.
But to my dismay and my surprise, he catches me.
‘Let go of me, you fucking freak!’
Link to Gringa:
Where to find Eve Rabi online
LOVE STORIES BY EVE RABI
You Will Pay – For Leaving Me (This book is free to Eve Rabi Fans)
Obsessed with me –Book 1
Obsessed with me –Book 2
Betrayed – He’d get his Girl at Any Cost
My Brother, My Rival (Book 1)
My Brother, My Rival (Book 2)