“It’s perfectly safe.”
Without waiting for us Americans to be convinced, she waved at a small brown sedan that pulled up to the gate. As the driver waited for the guard to allow him to exit university property, Mercedes approached his passenger side window.
Flashing her most winning smile, Mercedes tapped gently on the glass. The young man inside leaned over and rolled down the window to get a look at the attractive girl.
Mercedes eyes lit up when she saw the driver. Did she know him? She leaned inside the car and kissed the driver soundly on each cheek. Definitely not a stranger.
I couldn't hear a word she said, but her smile grew bigger and her head bobbed with excitement.
A quick nod told us this guy would graciously take on three female passengers. "Come on! Get in. This is an old friend of mine from high school. He won't bite." Mercedes grabbed her bag from the pile in the dirt and climbed in the front seat.
Janice looked over at me, “Well, if he's a friend of Mercedes—”
"That's true." I tried to get a glimpse of the driver through the glare of the windshield. How providential that this guy happened to be visiting Universidad de América Central on the day we needed a ride to the city.
"I'm sure he's a nice guy." Janice picked up her bag and climbed into the back of the car.
We both looked forward to a weekend away from the small campus. Most foreign students spent weekends in the dorm, doing homework or sticking together like a bunch of scared rabbits. How were we supposed to soak up any Mexican culture like that? We had made a pact before we decided to study abroad that we would make the most of our time here in Mexico. Here was our opportunity.
Janice and I had had enough of sitting together in the cafeteria on a Saturday afternoon or aimlessly wandering the campus. We wanted to experience new things. Mercedes had offered us that chance.
My bag looked lonely there in the dust, so I picked it up and carried it toward the car.
Mercedes, smiling in the front seat, laughed at something the driver said to her. Because of the glare, I couldn't get a good look at our chauffeur. But seeing the gleam in Mercedes dark eyes and how she swept her long, thick hair off the back of her neck, exposing the soft nape to the warm air, this was no ordinary high school buddy driving the car.
As soon as I clanged the door shut, the driver sped out of the university gates and headed toward the nearby freeway. Without any air conditioning in the car, we rolled down every window to let in the breeze. This made it impossible for Janice and I to hear much of the conversation going on up front, but we could talk without anyone overhearing.
Janice made the first observation, “He’s gorgeous!” She didn't seem to care, either, if anyone noticed her staring at the driver's profile. If he turned his head, he would surely see the unadulterated lust in her eyes.
“Is he?” At that moment, I looked up at the rearview mirror, hoping to see at least one little feature reflected there—a nose, an eye—anything.
He looked right at me!
I blushed and looked away, but not before I got a good look at his face.
He was startlingly handsome. Most Mexicans I had met so far were traditional mestizo in looks: short, broad nose, very dark skinned, slight of build. His skin, instead of burnished bronze, was a warm honey color, and his eyes were a greenish hazel and were wide-set.
Since I arrived in Mexico two months ago, he was the first Mexican male to catch my attention. I had a feeling he knew it.
Mercedes, knowing our Spanish to be rudimentary at best, turned to give us the basic facts of our driver. “This is Joaquin. He was visiting a friend at our university, and now he's on his way home.”
“Hi, I’m Suzie, and this is Janice,”
He smiled a toothy smile that I could see reflected in the rearview mirror.
“Do you always pick up strange girls on your way home?” I asked.
“Strange girls?” Joaquin looked back
Learning to Kill: Stories