Narco Noir by Carmen Amato

Author:Carmen Amato [Amato, Carmen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Laurel & Croton
Published: 2020-05-15T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 28

Perched on the Punta la Prietilla promontory, not far from the divers at La Quebrada, the fan-shaped Sinfonia del Mar amphitheater was designed to appreciate Acapulco’s dramatic sunsets. As the sky blazed with ribbons of crimson and gold, the sun sank into the ocean and spectators were enveloped in the transition from day to night. A huge red mosaic of the sun covered the circular stage at the bottom of the tiers, distinguishing the Mexican outdoor theater from its Greek ancestors.

The last time she was there, Emilia mistook a woman for missing teen Lila Jimenez Lata. The woman panicked before Emilia could explain her mistake, causing a stampede up the narrow aisles.

Getting drunk in the amphitheater’s parking lot was a rite of passage, as was making out on the curved stone benches. Usually the parking lot was littered with wrappers, bottles, and newspapers despite the mayor’s trash bins.

But that afternoon, Sinfonia del Mar’s parking lot was swept clean and transformed into a bustling Hollywood film set.

Instead of the usual throng of cars and picnickers getting ready to enjoy the sunset in a few hours, the parking lot was dominated by four enormous silvery trailers. A generator the size of a refrigerator hummed loudly, feeding a winding canal of cables that disappeared into the descending rows of the amphitheater. People jostled by with pieces of equipment that Emilia couldn’t identify. Gamboa was greeted as Manolo Bernal. He led Emilia to the largest trailer.

The door popped open. A long-haired gringo in skinny white jeans and a black polo shirt stepped out.

“Emilia, this is Bob, our director,” Gamboa said.

Bob gave Emilia a nod. Watery blue eyes raked her from head to toe before he turned to Gamboa. “Where’d you get her?” he asked in English.

“She’s the taxi driver I told you about,” Gamboa replied in a crisp, unaccented version of the same language. “Needed a local. Hired her to drive me around for a couple of days.”

Bob continued to assess Emilia as if pricing her by the pound. “Can she act?”

“She doesn’t have to.” Gamboa gave Emilia a reassuring smile, obviously assuming she didn’t understand the conversation. “We’ll use her as Alejandra’s stand-in. Take some long shots. Use a filter for anything closer. It’ll work. Trust me.”

It was just like one of Sophia’s movie magazines. Hollywood people and cameras and scripts and big lights. Chavito was right.

The two men talked about blocking and B-roll and other things Emilia didn’t understand. Her brain tried to absorb the sights and sounds of a Hollywood movie production spreading out against the backdrop of the Pacific.

Amid the chatter and bustle, she wondered if she could tell Gamboa she forgot something. Go back to the taxi, slump down and call Silvio. How long would it take for a couple of patrol cars to get to Sinfonia del Mar? Ten minutes? Twenty?

No, it would be safer to play sick and ditch him. Blame it on the fish tacos and pretend to be desperate for some antacid. Drive downtown, stop at a gas station, and call Silvio once she was out of Gamboa’s reach.

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