The Velvet Rose by Susan Holmes McKagan

Author:Susan Holmes McKagan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rare Bird Books
Published: 2019-04-16T00:36:30+00:00

Romeo & Scarlett

The next thing I knew, it was two thirty in the morning and I’d spent at least half an hour drunkenly circumnavigating the legendary Pappas & Beer, an enormous beachfront bar in Rosarito, with a spring break vibe. I still hadn’t been able to discern any trace of my companions, including Johnny. And, OH FUCK!! A vague, tequila-soaked memory surfaced: me teaching runway turns to the local señoritas who had rockognized the dudes and me earlier in the night. Before climbing on a long bar table to fully display my moves, I’d taken off my Levi’s jean jacket and handed it to Johnny, who’d slipped it on. He’d apparently left the bar, still wearing it, and that also meant he had my ID and money, as they’d been in the left upper pocket!

This left me stranded in a foreign country on a Friday night, somehow wearing a Pappas & Beer souvenir T-shirt over my dress with no coat and no means of communicating with anyone back home. And zero funds to afford transportation, or even a call on a pay phone. And so, I did what any seasoned world traveler would do. I stood crying outside the bar for a few minutes, throngs of weekend warriors intent on their festivities reveling around me.

I pulled myself together and stopped a relatively non-terrifying-looking grandmotherly type, who was selling long stem roses to turistas from a flat wicker basket. “Como llegas a Estados Unidos?” I said, employing my best high school Spanish.

She stared at me a long moment, then turned slowly and pointed up the road, the nearest section of which was teaming with drunk vacationers and enterprising locals, who were trying to sell them snacks, tchotchkes, and more adult distractions. I had no idea if she’d understood me in the slightest or if this was indeed the reverse of the direction we’d traveled hours earlier in the Ford Mafia mobile. I wondered how the others were doing in their luxury ride. But there was no point in wasting any thoughts on them.

I took a deep breath and began striding in the direction she’d indicated. After the first block, I silently expressed gratitude for my many catwalk excursions and the ability they had given me to walk for hours in ridiculous heels while ignoring the pain entirely.

I traveled for what felt like an eternity, through the smell of frying corn tortillas and carnitas, the tequila in my system causing me to weave back and forth across the uneven sidewalk. In the dark corners of the beach, street barkers tried to entice passersby with rooster fights, female companionship, darker things mentioned only in hushed whispers. I did my best to walk the straight and narrow and avoid listing toward the shadows. My heart hammered as I left behind the busy strip of bars and the light that spilled out of them onto the street. There were now only a few tourists sprinkled here and there, and not another gringa in sight. A

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