Read Online Puerto Vallarta Squeeze by Robert James Waller - Free Book Online
Authors: Robert James Waller
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said there’s another place?” The shooter looked dying tired, the lines under his eyes fanning out into concentric semicircles.
“Yeah, a few blocks from here. The best part about it is the stuffed crocodile in the lobby and an old copy of the buccaneer’s creed of freedom etched on the wall. San Bias has a colorful history, not to mention the worst bug problem of any place you’ll ever be. The damn bugs can drive you crazy.”
“Let’s find some breakfast, then come back here and check in.” He was still watching military people walking by.
At eight-fifteen they were back at Las Brisas. Still no desk clerk. Luz told the night boy, who was about eighty, that her gringo friends were getting tired and cranky. A few minutes later a woman in a nightdress and bathrobe appeared and checked them in. They’d gotten her up, and she wasn’t happy about it. Danny took a room for Luz and him, another for the shooter.
They were a bad-looking outfit, wrinkled and beat, sweat coming heavy again in the humidity of the Mexican coast and streaking down through the dust in which they’d bathed at the road construction site. The woman behind the desk studied Luz’s “Puerto Vallarta Squeeze” T-shirt, then glanced at the ceiling for a moment, thinking social changes were definitely needed but maybe not quite so much all at once.
Danny slept until a little after four in the afternoon. He woke up blinking, feeling grungy and groggy. Luz came out of the bathroom, naked, hair wet, and grinning at him. She had slightly oversize breasts for her general overall proportions and carried them high. They pulled up even higher when she reached behind her neck with both hands and twisted her hair. Along with good oP Missy Morganthal back in his undergraduate days, who’d have shucked her jeans in the student union if he’d asked, Luz could get Danny up and rolling faster than any woman he’d ever known. But in that moment of waking and blinking and giving out dusty coughs, he needed coffee and a shower more than he needed Luz. Before he could even mention it, Luz stepped into underthings and said she’d run down coffee while Danny showered.
When he came out of the bathroom, the coffee was there and Luz was gone. He got dressed and stood outside the room, steaming cup in his right hand and a lazy sun headed toward evening. Luz was thirty yards away, sitting by the swimming pool, talking to someone in the water. Danny walked over.
The shooter was paddling around, doing a capable breast stroke. He pulled himself up and sat on the edge of the pool, looking good in his red-and-blue boxer trunks, looking in the body like he wasn’t as old as his face indicated last night. Maybe six three, and lean, but strong in the shoulders and still having a pretty good chest and no belly at all. His knapsack was sitting near the edge of the pool where he could keep an eye on it.
“Buenas tardes,” said the shooter, pushing back his wet hair until it lay straight and flat against his head.
That’s when Danny noticed the scars on his legs, running all the way up his thighs and disappearing under the swim-suit. Mean, ugly scars, as if they’d come from a dirty knife and had never healed properly. More scars on his back and chest.
Danny recovered and said good afternoon back to him, then found a chair in the shade and brushed away no-see-ums that returned only a moment later, starting to sweat again in high coastal humidity.
The water had some appeal, but Danny hadn’t brought a swimsuit. Neither had Luz, but she’d rolled up her jeans and was sitting on the edge of the pool, swishing her feet back and forth in the water. For some reason, she was smiling.
The shooter stood up, getting ready to go back to his room, knapsack dangling in his hand. “How about staying here for the night. Get rested, make good time tomorrow.”
Danny said that was fine with him. Mexican highways at night were just too much work.
“You’ve been here before?”
“Yeah, a few blocks from here. The best part about it is the stuffed crocodile in the lobby and an old copy of the buccaneer’s creed of freedom etched on the wall. San Bias has a colorful history, not to mention the worst bug problem of any place you’ll ever be. The damn bugs can drive you crazy.”
“Let’s find some breakfast, then come back here and check in.” He was still watching military people walking by.
At eight-fifteen they were back at Las Brisas. Still no desk clerk. Luz told the night boy, who was about eighty, that her gringo friends were getting tired and cranky. A few minutes later a woman in a nightdress and bathrobe appeared and checked them in. They’d gotten her up, and she wasn’t happy about it. Danny took a room for Luz and him, another for the shooter.
They were a bad-looking outfit, wrinkled and beat, sweat coming heavy again in the humidity of the Mexican coast and streaking down through the dust in which they’d bathed at the road construction site. The woman behind the desk studied Luz’s “Puerto Vallarta Squeeze” T-shirt, then glanced at the ceiling for a moment, thinking social changes were definitely needed but maybe not quite so much all at once.
Danny slept until a little after four in the afternoon. He woke up blinking, feeling grungy and groggy. Luz came out of the bathroom, naked, hair wet, and grinning at him. She had slightly oversize breasts for her general overall proportions and carried them high. They pulled up even higher when she reached behind her neck with both hands and twisted her hair. Along with good oP Missy Morganthal back in his undergraduate days, who’d have shucked her jeans in the student union if he’d asked, Luz could get Danny up and rolling faster than any woman he’d ever known. But in that moment of waking and blinking and giving out dusty coughs, he needed coffee and a shower more than he needed Luz. Before he could even mention it, Luz stepped into underthings and said she’d run down coffee while Danny showered.
When he came out of the bathroom, the coffee was there and Luz was gone. He got dressed and stood outside the room, steaming cup in his right hand and a lazy sun headed toward evening. Luz was thirty yards away, sitting by the swimming pool, talking to someone in the water. Danny walked over.
The shooter was paddling around, doing a capable breast stroke. He pulled himself up and sat on the edge of the pool, looking good in his red-and-blue boxer trunks, looking in the body like he wasn’t as old as his face indicated last night. Maybe six three, and lean, but strong in the shoulders and still having a pretty good chest and no belly at all. His knapsack was sitting near the edge of the pool where he could keep an eye on it.
“Buenas tardes,” said the shooter, pushing back his wet hair until it lay straight and flat against his head.
That’s when Danny noticed the scars on his legs, running all the way up his thighs and disappearing under the swim-suit. Mean, ugly scars, as if they’d come from a dirty knife and had never healed properly. More scars on his back and chest.
Danny recovered and said good afternoon back to him, then found a chair in the shade and brushed away no-see-ums that returned only a moment later, starting to sweat again in high coastal humidity.
The water had some appeal, but Danny hadn’t brought a swimsuit. Neither had Luz, but she’d rolled up her jeans and was sitting on the edge of the pool, swishing her feet back and forth in the water. For some reason, she was smiling.
The shooter stood up, getting ready to go back to his room, knapsack dangling in his hand. “How about staying here for the night. Get rested, make good time tomorrow.”
Danny said that was fine with him. Mexican highways at night were just too much work.
“You’ve been here before?”
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