Well, that didn’t work out very well, did it? The last you heard from me was that I was going to write about what I’ve learned and what I’ve been doing, and then silence for thirteen months.
I’m not going to recap the past year at this point, but one thing that happened was: I started a correspondence course on writing with the Long Ridge Writers Group. By the time I finish the course, I will have “at least two manuscripts suitable for submission to an editor.”
I just got back Assignment 2, a 1000-word short story, and my instructor liked it, so I’ve decided to put it up here.
* * * * *
SIDE TRIP
Carol’s blonde hair fell to her shoulders as she slowed the convertible at the border crossing. “Dammit, Joey,” she muttered. It was his gambling problem, but here she was, paying the price. And if the Border Patrol decided to inspect her car, the price might be a lengthy prison sentence.
* * *
Three months earlier, Carol had come home from work early. She’d spent two weeks of late nights and weekends at the office, preparing for the project review, and now it was time for the reward. She fired up her computer to book her first trip to Arizona for baseball spring training since her father had died four years ago while she was in college. They’d gone every year, and she wanted to go again to remember him. Her family meant a lot to her, and now that her parents were gone, Joey was the only one she had left. She’d have to call him tonight — they hadn’t spoken since she’d started the late nights at the office.
She was checking hotel rooms when the man grabbed her from behind, covering her mouth to keep her quiet. She struggled against his strong grip, but sat still when he showed her his gun.
“I don’t want to use this, and I don’t want to hurt you. I’m going to let you go, if you won’t scream,” he said. She nodded, and he released her. “We need to talk about Joey.”
“What about him? Who are you? What do you want?” she asked, her voice fast and panicky, but not loud.
“Your brother owes me a lot of money. He’s skipped town, so I’ve come to collect from you. My name is Tony Camarano.” The name was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. He was an older man, perhaps in his fifties, with graying temples and a small scar on his upper lip. “Your brother likes basketball, but he’s got a weak spot for the Bulls. He keeps thinking they’ll beat the spread.”
“You’re a bookie?”
“Not exactly. The bookie works for me. I’m the collection agency. Joey’s in for $20K.”
She was shocked. She knew Joey liked to wager now and then, but she hadn’t known how serious it was. Then she remembered where she’d heard Camarano’s name: a newspaper story about organized crime.
“I don’t have that kind of money!” she cried.
Camarano looked at her computer screen. “Maybe you don’t have to have it. Maybe we can work something out. You’re going to Phoenix in a few weeks?”
“Spring training. Why?”
You do me a favor on your trip and we’ll call it good. I got a daughter your age; I don’t want to see you get hurt.” Ever been to Mexico?”
* * *
She hadn’t been able to reach Joey for several days after Camarano’s visit, but one day he called her. She’d been mad at him until she heard how scared he’d been. She told him about her deal with Camarano. He apologized pitifully and begged her not to do it, but he still had no way to pay Camarano back. She decided to stick to the deal.
The flight was uneventful, as were the first few days of the trip. The games didn’t mean anything: the teams were trying to figure out which players to take north. But each warm day in the desert was better than a cold day in Chicago, and she reminisced about watching games with her dad. She was enjoying herself. Well, enjoying herself as much as she could while worrying about her future.
Camarano hadn’t told her why she was going to Mexico. He’d only set out her itinerary, booking her hotel in Puerto Peñasco for two days near the end of her trip. Her imagination ran wild about the reasons. Did he want to kill her while she was out of town, to throw off suspicion? Was she going to be carrying drugs across the border? She leaned toward the latter.
She hadn’t seen him again until he sat down next to her in the fifth inning of a game against the D-Backs in Tucson, the day she was leaving for Mexico. He asked her, amiably, if she was enjoying her trip, thanked her for giving him a reason to come to Phoenix in March, and acted as if there were little tension between them. When if left after an inning, she felt drained.
The trip to Mexico was forgettable. Puerto Peñasco was a pleasant little resort town on the Gulf of California. She soaked up the sun, did a little shopping, got some reading in at night. The only odd thing was that her car seemed to have moved by itself. She’d parked it two spaces from the end of the row in the lot at the motel. When she returned, it was three spaces from the end.
* * *
Now, coming to the front of the line at the border, she tried to keep calm as the officer approached her car. He was professional, but apologetic. “I’m sorry, Miss, but you’ve been selected for a random examination. Step out of the car.
She got out and steeled herself for the arrest, but it never came. They searched the car thoroughly, found nothing, and sent her on her way. She crossed the border, mystified, and headed to Mesa for one last game before flying home the next day.
Camarano was waiting at the ballpark. “Joey’s off the hook. Thanks, Carol,” he said.
“They stopped me at the border and inspected the car, but they found nothing. Why’d you send me to Mexico if I wasn’t bringing anything back?”
“Bringing anything back? What — do you think you are a drug smuggler?”
She looked at him but said nothing.
“You know what the legal limit is for taking currency in or out of the country? $10,000. You carried $300,000 into Mexico for me.”
“Three hundred thousand? What for?”
He smiled at her as he rose to leave. “That’s none of your business, kid.”
* * * * *
Drop me a line and let me know what you think.
