Borrow Trouble (14 page)

“Why don't we go to my room down the way a bit and get more comfortable?” he suggested, his hand rubbing and squeezing my behind. That was all he had to say and do.

I was a woman who had been betrayed by the last two people in the world that I'd expected to betray me. Well, I wasn't going to just sit back and do nothing about it. I was about to do the most logical thing a woman in my position could do to alleviate the pain that they'd put me through—and I was going to enjoy every minute of it!

I felt vindicated already. An obscene grin appeared on my face. I looked at Jose and nodded, sliding my tongue suggestively across my lips.

J
ose had been very vague and mysterious about his profession so far. He had hinted that he was a bartender, but a few minutes later, he said that he worked as a cook and a driver. We'd spent hours together, and I knew next to nothing about him. He had shown me pictures of his children, but he had not mentioned a wife or a current lover.

I followed Jose down the crowded street, swinging my sandals in one hand, clutching my drink in the other. I turned around and looked over my shoulder back at the club we'd just left. Some of the men that I had danced with had come out to the sidewalk and were still looking at me with lust in their eyes. Every time my mind wandered back to reality, I felt so light-headed that I stumbled every few steps. But Jose made sure I didn't fall or stray away from him and get lost in the crowd along the way. He kept a firm grip on my arm.

It took just a few minutes for us to reach the small dark motel. This was where Jose said he often rented a room when he was away from his house, on the other side of the island. Despite the motel's dull exterior, exotic birds fluttered throughout the courtyard. There were a few ancient jalopies haphazardly parked near the entrance, and a few dazed and disheveled individuals milling about.

“This is where you live?” I asked, rubbing my nose.

“Aha.” Jose laughed and nodded. He had a deep, loud laugh, which seemed to come from within his soul. “It's not a palace, but it holds many memories. I've had some of my best moments here,” he informed me, unlocking a narrow, mud-colored door, which squeaked like a mouse.

As soon as I stepped into the dimly lit, musty room with a lopsided bed, a scarred dresser, and hardly anything else, I regretted it. Jose closed the door with his foot and locked it. Then he locked all three of the small, dingy windows. There was a shabby Bible in English on the nightstand, splayed open to a page where someone had underlined the passage
Your trusted friends have deceived you.
Reading that made me want to leave even more. But it was too late. Jose had already started undressing me. It seemed like he wanted to fuck me and get it over with as soon as possible. I had expected him to be a little more subtle and romantic. His odd behavior turned me off, so I pushed him away.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice sounding more like a creature's growl.

“Uh, I didn't bring any protection,” I said, rearing back and attempting to unhook myself from his viselike embrace. With all the things going through my head, I had overlooked one of the most important things of all: condoms. Even though Inez had packed enough for five women, I had not packed a single one. I had no reason to. As a matter of fact, I had not had any use for condoms since my college days.

“No problem!” he yelled. He screwed up his face in a way that made his eyebrows look like they had grown together. He yanked open the top drawer in the dresser and plucked out a package of condoms, opening it with his teeth. His merging eyebrows now looked like a big, bushy red caterpillar.

In the dim light, I could now see that Jose was not as handsome as I had originally thought. His skin was as armored as the hide of an armadillo. His teeth were crooked and threatening to turn brown. I had every reason to believe that my leaving was no longer an option. Nor was resisting. From the look on his face, there was no turning back. I gritted my teeth, closed my eyes, and hoped for the best, vowing that I would never put myself in a situation such as this again.

“Can I have something to drink?” I asked, my head still reared back, trying to dodge his sloppy kisses. I was already tipsy, but this was a case that required a serious buzz.

Jose let out an impatient sigh and released me. Then he trotted into a bathroom with no door and came back out, clutching a plastic cup full of cloudy, lukewarm water.

As soon as I finished drinking the water, he was on me again. He bent me backwards so far, my face was level with the cracked ceiling.

This man was, without a doubt, the worst lover I'd ever come across before in my life. That big bulge I'd felt when I massaged his crotch in the club was 90 percent balls. What was left over was about the size of my thumb. I closed my eyes, gritted my teeth, and prayed that he would not be on top of me for too long.

“Thank you,” he whispered, rolling off less than a minute later. He belched and farted at the same time.

I felt like I'd been betrayed again. But this time there was nothing I could do to make up for it. Finding another man to sleep with didn't appeal to me. The way my luck was going, he would probably be even worse.

And to think that I had held on to my wig with one hand the whole time Jose was in me so it wouldn't slide off. “Can you call me a cab?” I asked in a tired voice, almost gagging on the stench of his gas. I rose, fanning the air with both hands. “And can you give me some cab fare?” I knew that I wasn't too far from my hotel, but I didn't want to walk. And after all I'd just been through, I didn't want to spend the last ten dollars that I had with me on transportation.

Jose didn't look at me as he rose from the bed and lifted his pants from the floor. I couldn't remember the last time I saw a man get completely dressed so fast. He even buttoned his red shirt wrong, leaving the tail hanging over the waist of his pants flapping like a seal when he walked. His red hair stood up on his head like a rooster's comb. With a grunt and another fart, he flipped open his wallet and removed some bills, dropping them onto the bed next to me.

I sat up and was surprised to see two crisp hundred-dollar bills. Ben Franklin never looked better. I looked at Jose with a forced smile. “Is this all for me?” I asked, feeling that I deserved it and even more.

He looked and acted nervous as he raked his fingers through his hair. He glanced at the door; then he looked at me with his hands on his hips. It was the way he looked at me that was so disturbing. It was the most extreme look of disgust that I'd ever seen on another human being's face in my life.

I didn't have time to react to Jose's sudden change. I rushed back into my clothes and sandals. What happened next happened so fast, I don't remember all the details. Two men in uniforms, and with guns drawn, burst into the room, yelling in Spanish. My mind had shut down for a moment, so I could not determine what they were saying. One stopped in front of me and said in plain English, “You are under arrest for the crime of prostitution.”

With a sly grin, the other one grabbed my arm and roughly spun me around to face him. He started fondling my breasts and making lewd comments in English and in Spanish. The next thing I knew, he was clamping a pair of handcuffs on me. That's when I fainted.

“M
rs. Webb, did you understand what the judge just said?”

“Huh?” I could barely speak or stand.

“By pleading guilty, your ninety-day sentence begins immediately. You will be credited for the days you've already spent in custody.”

For a few seconds, I didn't know where I was. Then it suddenly dawned on me where I was. No, it hit me like a Mack truck: I was back in a courtroom on the island of Paraíso, with a charge of prostitution hanging over my head like a guillotine. I felt like I had already lost my head.

I didn't feel like myself. And without my wig and make-up, I knew that I didn't even look like myself, either. I blinked, shook my head, and looked around. I felt like I had just woken up from a nightmare, but I was wrong. This was real.

I didn't know exactly how long I had been standing before a Paraisan judge, with Debra Retner, my legal representative, by my side. I had tuned them both out as I stood there, thinking back over all the events that had led me to this point.

Debra Retner, the sympathetic woman who acted as a liaison between the island officials and visiting Americans who got themselves in trouble, was the only American I'd seen or spoken to since Inez's departure. All of a sudden, I felt hopelessly alone and homesick. I glanced at a logo representing the American flag on the front of Debra's briefcase. My first instinct was to touch it, which I did, and then I burst into tears.

“The court will notify your family—” Debra told me, rubbing my back as she handed me a tissue.

“I want my family to hear about this from me,” I sobbed. “Just my mother and my sister. Not that punk ass husband of mine!” If my husband, Leon, had walked into the room, I would have ripped him to shreds with my bare hands. I still could not believe that he had refused to fly down to the islands from Ohio to pay my fine and take me home.

First, it was him sleeping with Inez, and now this. He had betrayed me twice. But I made up my mind right then and there that I would not let his actions destroy me completely. Despite my weaknesses, I was still a strong woman, and if this experience didn't kill me, it was going to make me even stronger.

“You can write to your mother and sister as soon as…as soon as you get settled in. However, an official from the court will also be contacting your family. It's standard procedure. There is information that your family will need that you don't know yet. Like visiting rules, what they can or cannot send to you. Other important information as well.”

“What if my family can raise the ten thousand dollars?” I blurted, blinking hard as I looked into Debra's sad eyes.

Debra Retner shook her head and gave me a hopeless look. “That option is no longer available once you've been sentenced.”

“But that's not fair! I was set up, and these people know that!” I hollered, looking at Debra through wild eyes that felt like they were ablaze.

“True. And I couldn't agree with you more.” Debra glanced at her watch and looked over my shoulder. A pained look appeared on her face. I followed her gaze to the female guard walking in my direction, dangling a pair of handcuffs. Debra moved a few steps away from me. “I am so sorry, Mrs. Webb. I know you don't deserve this, but my hands are tied,” Debra told me, her voice cracking.

The sour-faced judge dismissed everyone. And not more than a few seconds later, the gruff female guard cuffed me and led me away. Debra Retner continued to stand in the same spot, with the most hopelessly sad look on her face. Somehow I managed to smile at her and mouth, “Thank you.”

The bus that transported me, and about a dozen other women, to the detention center at the end of the island shook, rattled, and rocked all the way. It was like being on a roller coaster. None of the other women spoke to me. When they spoke among themselves, it was in machine-gun Spanish, so I didn't know what was being said. And I didn't care, because nothing could make me feel any worse or better.

My new temporary home was a small cell with a barred window too high for me to look out of. For reasons that were never explained to me, I had no cell mate. But every other cell that I could see housed at least two women. And in some cases, three. The first cell that I'd been herded into had been hard to take. But the one where I was going to spend the next three months of my life was even more primitive. It had no sink, or anything else, except a sleeping cot against the wall. There were no toilet facilities. I had to do my business in a round hole in the cement floor that was about the shape and size of a large dinner plate. I could see and smell that someone before me had had a bad aim. There was a metal lid to use as a cover, and a lime green substance that smelled like sulfur had been sprinkled around the edges and into the belly of the hole. For toilet paper, there was a short water hose hanging from the wall.

Shortly after I'd been secured, a cross-eyed trustee slid some paper and a nub of a pencil though the bars of my cell. I scribbled a few lines on a sheet of paper to Mama and Frankie, trying to make light of my situation. I told them that I was in “a little trouble,” and that I'd be “in custody for ninety days,” and not to worry about me.

I was surprised when I received a response from home six days later. Mama wrote:

The letter from my mother was hard enough to take, but the newspaper clipping from the
Butler Review
that she had stuffed into the same envelope was even worse. The headlines screamed:
BUTLER WOMAN ARRESTED FOR PROSTITUTION DURING CARIBBEAN VACATION
!

That Shirley Blake. That bitch. I wanted to scratch my colleague's eyes out. Then she'd really have a reason to trash me and call
me
a tramp. For years I'd been her only close friend. I'd lent her money and set her up with single men I knew. Now I knew what Mama meant when she told me that your best friend can also be your worst enemy. But I also had to wonder how that applied to Inez. Was it possible that she'd been both my best friend and my worst enemy at the same time? It was too depressing to think about for too long.

I folded the newspaper clipping and Mama's letter and slid both back into the envelope. The next few letters from Mama were just as depressing as the first one. I didn't look forward to hearing from her.