Nine The Señora's BMW

smelled like synthetic vanilla. It had nothing but an umbrella in the back seat and a box of Kleenex. Adolfo’s Jetta stank of damp smoke. Gabriel was disappointed at not finding anything in the glove compartment that would confirm that Adolfo was a criminal. In the Licenciado’s Mercedes, Gabriel thought he detected the aroma of someone else’s woman mixed with the masculine scent of eau de cologne.

But Lucía’s Focus was a bazaar of wonders. Gabriel would find lipsticks underneath the seats, perfume samples, tissues stained with makeup, bracelets, aspirins, melted chocolates, taquería mints, shopping receipts, vaping cartridges. He would take inventory of his discoveries with the discipline of an anthropologist that researches the remains of an extinct tribe and leave everything worth rescuing as an offering on the driver’s seat. Now he was in the kitchen enjoying a toasted bolillo con cajeta.

“Have you washed the cars?” asked Agustín as he walked into the kitchen and saw his son taking a break. “You know they only need one of us here. You are here only because the Licenciado is a good person. Don’t let them ask you for anything twice. This is how I’ve stayed here for fifteen years.”

Of course, licking their asses with that hungry dog mug you pull every time they give you orders.

On the other side of the door, Zenaida brought a freshly showered Lucía her breakfast. Gabriel caught sight of her as she nibbled on her bolillo with butter and jam. She saw him and said:

“I need you to take me to school and pick me up around three if you don’t mind. Can you?”

“Yes, I can. No problem at all,” he answered.

Agustín intervened.

“Excuse me, Señorita, but your father wants Gabriel to take Señor Fito in your car to drop off his car at the body shop.”

“And why didn’t he ask me if it’s my car?”

“That’s what your father said,” replied Agustín.

“And you can’t drive Fito in my mom’s car?”

“I have to pick her up at the British Hospital.”

“Well, let Gabriel take me first and then he can take Fito. Really, as if Adolfo can’t call an Uber from the shop.”

“Okay, Señorita.”

In the garage, since Agustín was watching, they put on the whole spiel of Gabriel opening the door for her. They left the house. Lucía was furious.

“Turn left at the light,” ordered Lucía suddenly.

Gabriel watched her from the rearview mirror.

“School is not that way.”

“I know,” said Lucía.

“Where are we going?” asked Gabriel, maneuvering to switch lanes.

“I’ll show you.”

Buses lunged at the car, people drove in reverse, the wrong way, on the sidewalks, they ran red lights, they double and triple parked. On every red light, squads of squeegee men aimed at the cars with soapy bottles. Lucía wagged them away. On one corner there were fire-eaters; on the next, children dressed up as clowns did clumsy somersaults, one of them wearing an anachronic rubber mask of President Salinas. Street hawkers (selling knives, bunnies, chewing gum, carnations, fake cellphones) boasted of their merchandise among the cars like toreadors at the bullfighting ring.

“This traffic is terrible,” said Lucía.

“The worst,” Gabriel replied.

Since nothing moved and they were far from home, Lucía moved to the front seat. Gabriel tried to feign indifference.

“Don’t you have to go to school?”

“I changed my plans.”

“Oh.”

This seemingly spontaneous detour had been contemplated by Lucía over days and nights in which she dizzied herself planning how to be alone with Gabriel: where to go, how to begin, what to say. She thought of the Parque Hundido as she explored the geographic possibilities of Mexico City on Google Maps. It was on the other side of town.

“How old are you, Gabriel?”

“Twenty. And you?”

“Twenty-one.”

“Make a right on the next street.”

Finding a parking spot took them almost as long as the trip from las Lomas. Finally, a car left a spot on the side of the park. Lucía got out without waiting for Gabriel to open her door.

“Come,” she said. “When I was little, I used to come here often because my granny lived here in Del Valle. Have you been here before?”

“No.”

The park swarmed with balloon vendors, mothers pushing baby carriages, popsicle vendors ringing the bells of their carts; children swooshing by on tricycles and youths on scooters; loners reading the newspaper, getting a shoeshine, or waiting for the right moment to jerk off on a remote park bench. A couple rolled in the grass. Lucía found a bench in the shade, away from the noise of the big avenue. She examined it before she sat down. Gabriel sat down beside her.

“It pisses me off that my dad makes plans for my car without asking me.”

Gabriel nodded.

“I didn’t feel like going to school today.”

“I didn’t feel like working either.”

Lucía smiled, looking at her nails.

“Well, we played hooky, didn’t we?”

They looked at their shoes in silence. Words piled up on Lucía’s gums and trampled over her tongue and wanted to escape through her teeth. She restrained them with her lips until she let them go, and they came out, not stumbling, but delicately in one line, shaping a sentence that surprised her.

“I don’t know, I wanted to be alone with you,” she said.

She neared her pinky finger to his, sparking a flash of desire under her goosebumps. Their hands intertwined like two bodies in bed. His mouth tasted like danger, like something forbidden, like heaven. She sampled his cheek with her tongue. It was salty, a bit sweet and a bit metallic, like the rusty metal tube of the school bus that she sometimes used to lick when she was a little girl. His sweetish breath, tinged with a bitter trace of tar, and his armpit smell were familiar and delicious. Their labored breaths drowned out every sound. Perhaps because of the sharp whistle of the balloon vendor, both stopped and came up to the surface to catch their breath, blinded by daylight, panting, wet, scared, breathless like newborns.

Lucía fixed her clothes. Gabriel tried to hide the stubborn bulge under his gray pants.

“We need a bucket of cold water,” she whispered.

“What we need is a hotel,” said Gabriel.

Each became engrossed in the minutiae of what that could mean. Which hotel? Who was going to pay for it? Lucía thought she had just lost her mind and was getting into the biggest trouble of her life.

“Oof, I forgot that you had to pick Fito up!”

They ran to the car, both aware that Lucía did not forget anything, and neither did Gabriel.

Lucía took out her cellphone and dialed.

“Adolfo? Did I wake you? Oh, it’s just that I had to buy a book for my class and I’m super late because I had to look for it all over Polanco. Gabriel just dropped me off at school, so he’s on his way to get you. The traffic is nuts. I think there might have been an accident. He’ll be there in about half an hour.”

Lucía pressed her foot against the floor of the car, pointing to an imaginary gas pedal.

“Where do you want him to take you? The Blá? Who are you having lunch with? Oh, okay, say ‘Hi’ for me.”

Lucía said goodbye to her brother and hung up.

“Take me to the Palacio de Hierro in Polanco, and after you leave Adolfo at the restaurant, you can pick me up there.”

“He will notice,” Gabriel said.

“He has no idea.”

This is too surreal, who could ever suspect? Lucía thought.

“You are going to get me in trouble, woman,” said Gabriel.

“Too late,” she answered.

He dropped her off at the mall and drove home as fast as he could. Although it took him almost an hour, thanks to the unflappable Mexico City traffic, he still had to wait for Adolfo for over twenty minutes. Finally, the señorito skidded out of the garage in his Jetta, showing no consideration. Gabriel had to run a red light to not lose sight of him and chased him all the way until Adolfo parked, without warning, on the sidewalk in front of a body shop in Legaria, gesturing to Gabriel to double park. A fat, greasy mechanic emerged from the depths of the shop and greeted Adolfo warmly. He screamed at Gabriel for blocking the entrance. Adolfo concluded the negotiation with the mechanic with the exchange of a little bag of powder, then he got in the back seat.

“You drive like a grandpa, bro.”

Fucking asshole, I almost swallowed your sister whole.

“So, I should take you to the restaurant?”

“Take me to the Sonaja first. I have an appointment.”

“But I have to pick up Señorita Lucía at the university,” Gabriel replied.

“I’m sure she can get a ride home.”

“But she will be waiting for me,” said Gabriel, trying not to whimper. “She said to pick her up right after I dropped you off.”

“Well, I have some business to take care of. You wait for me, take me to the Blá, and then you pick her up.”

Gabriel gripped the steering wheel, trying to control himself.

“I need to let her know.”

“You drive. I’ll call her,” said Adolfo.

He took out his phone and tried to leave her a message.

“Her voicemail is full.”

“Tell me how to get there,” said Gabriel.

At the Zona Rosa they drove around in circles trying to find a parking spot close enough to Adolfo’s appointment since he refused to walk. Finally, Adolfo told Gabriel to go into a hotel parking lot.

“Wait for me here, bro,” he told Gabriel. “I won’t be long.”

Gabriel got out of the car and walked up the dark ramps towards the exit. He inhaled the air of the pedestrian street, filled with restaurants with outdoor tables. The smells of fried onions and bacon reminded him that besides the stress, the anger, and the exhaustion, his stomach was grumbling. He called Lucía and indeed, her inbox was full.

Idiot. She treats me just like her brother does. Turn here, do this, do that. I’m just their stupid gofer.

When he came back to the car, Adolfo was waiting for him, freaking out.

“Where the fuck were you?”

“I went outside to call Lucía.”

“Don’t make me wait ever again. Let’s go.”

Adolfo sat in the back and took out a little box. He snorted a bump. That settled him down. Gabriel watched through the rearview mirror.

“Want some?”

“No, thanks.”

“It’s excellent. Have you tried it?”

“No,” Gabriel lied. In New York, sometimes he used to do lines after hours with his girlfriend Kate and the other waiters. He didn’t love it. It gave him heart palpitations and people got annoying. He preferred pot.

“If you ever need some, let me know.”

By the time he arrived to pick her up, Lucía was no longer at the Palacio de Hierro. He called the house. One of the maids answered.

“Can I speak to Lucía?”

“Yes, one moment, who should I say is calling?”

He panicked and hung up.

He came into the kitchen looking desperately for something to eat and ran into Zenaida’s disapproving face. His dad’s face was even worse.

“What happened?” his dad asked. “Miss Lucía had to call a car because you never made it. Where were you?”

“The thing is Adolfo was late and he made me take him to the Zona Rosa first and then I had to wait for him and by the time I could pick her up, she wasn’t there,” said Gabriel.

“Don’t blame other people. Why didn’t you let her know or leave a message here?” asked his dad.

“Her voicemail was full.”

“Ni que fueras bajado del cerro – What are you, some kind of hillbilly?” said his dad. “Help Ignacia with the groceries. Tomorrow you will apologize to Señorita Lucía. And what’s with ‘Adolfo’? Don’t be fresh. It’s ‘Señor Adolfo’ to you.”

He wanted to go up and apologize to the señorita right then, but he could not ignore his father. He helped the maid unload bag after bag and went to his room to hate himself. He did not want to risk visiting Lucía. At dinnertime, he came back to the kitchen.

“Did the señorita come down?” he asked Zenaida.

“She has a headache. She will have dinner in her room.”

He went to his room as well, having gulped down some grilled tortillas. He tossed and turned in bed, ashamed of his stupidity, trying to guess what would happen the following day.

Lucía had heard the engine of her Ford Focus coming into the garage. She had waited in vain for the sound of Gabriel’s footsteps going up the stairs, her doorknob turning, but the last sound she heard was the door of the car closing with medium intensity, as if Gabriel had wanted to slam it but had second thoughts.

Reality gripped her in the pit of her stomach. You let the son of the driver paw you all over! She called Zenaida over the intercom and asked to be brought two grilled ham and cheese quesadillas on corn tortillas and a Coke. Despite being stabbed by constant jabs of regret, she could not stop replaying every caress, every kiss, Gabriel’s amazement as he slurped her face.

The early morning sounds of the house woke her up: the maids’ brisk steps, water flowing down the pipes. She was overwhelmed by anxiety the minute she opened her eyes. She looked out the window. Agustín was watering the garden. She went down to breakfast in her bare feet. Gabriel was not in the kitchen. She was served half a grapefruit with jam. While she waited for the rest of her breakfast, she went out to the garage. The hallway floor was ice cold. Gabriel was washing her mother’s car with the radio on.

You can ring my bell, ring my bell, ding dong ding, ding dong ding, ah!

“What happened to you yesterday?” complained Lucía.

Gabriel dropped the soapy sponge. His arms were translucent from the cold. He peeked into the garden to make sure Agustín wasn’t around.

“Your brother asked me to take him to the Zona Rosa and to wait for him and he would not listen. We tried calling you. I went to get you and you weren’t there.”

“Forget it,” said Lucía. “This is madness.”