ELEVEN
Welcome to the Show
I sat in the back of the bus slightly away from the rest of the group, silently watching the vegetation pass as the vehicle roared, shook, and rattled its way down the road. When I'd arrived back at the rig yesterday afternoon, I found a message from ORSS waiting. I was to report to the Human Resources Manager at 9 a.m. tomorrow morning. There was nothing else in the note, but I knew what it was about. Apparently so did everyone rotating home with me as they avoided me even more than usual. Nobody wanted to be too closely associated with the guy who was about to be canned. It didn't matter as I wasn't going back to Reality anyway.
After Letícia and I woke, we didn't fuck again. She claimed her pussy was still too sore, and if I were honest with myself, my cock was a little tender as well. We were a mess, covered in come, squirt, oil, sweat, and dirt, but neither of us wanted to step foot in the room's tub, so we wet the rooms towels, and the linens from the bed we hadn't fucked on, and used them to clean ourselves up as much as possible.
As we were dressing, I tried to buy my watch back, knowing she'd refuse, and she did. I didn't mind. I liked the watch, but for me it was just a watch, and I could buy another. For Letícia, however, it seemed be a trophy, and I smiled to myself that she wore it out of the room, even though the band was so big she had to keep her fingers slightly splayed so it wouldn't slip off her wrist.
As the bus roared along, I found it interesting that on my arrival in Mexico, I was sweating like a fucking pig while riding the bus, but after six weeks in the jungle, it felt comparatively pleasant with the breeze coming through the open windows, even though it was probably just as hot and humid as it was before. Maybe, after this assignment was over, living outside of Houston would feel like paradise. I smiled to myself as the bus shuddered over a pothole, wondering how long it would be before I saw the good ol' U S of A again.
Upon my return to the rig, I'd taken three showers back-to-back to get all the gunk and oil off me, and then crashed for another few hours. My patrol last night had been uneventful, and I'd showered and packed everything except the clothes I was going to wear as soon as my shift was over. Now I was on the mud covered PerforMex crew bus, twenty-four kilometers from Veracruz according to the sign that flashed past.
Because I no longer had a watch, I estimated it was twenty minutes later when the bus rumbled to a stop beside the ORSS charter with a squeal of brakes. To the side, out of the way of the plane, sat a gleaming silver S-Class. I smiled. That was probably my ride. Because I was at the back of the bus, I was the last off.
"Ken!" I called as I stepped onto the tarmac. Ken was halfway to the airplane, clearly as anxious as everyone else to board the plane and get home. He stopped and turned to face me. I walked up to him. "This is where I get off," I said without preamble.
"What? What do you mean?"
"I'm not going back."
He held my gaze, his puzzlement clear on his face. "What do you mean you're not going back?"
"Just what I said."
He paused for a moment as he stared into my eyes. "Look, I don't condone what you did, and I asked to have you transferred off my crew because I don't like you sticking your nose, not to mention your dick, into places they don't belong, but you seem to know your shit. You'll probably get a reprimand, but we've all made mistakes. Maybe if you promise to clean up your act, they won't fire you."
"That's not the reason. I have a better offer here."
"From who? PerforMex?"
"Doesn't matter."
He glanced at the Mercedes where Valencia was standing at the back door. He jerked his head in that direction. "The Merc?"
I nodded. "That's right."
"So you're quitting?"
"Yes. This is my two-week notice. You can pass it along for me."
He held my gaze for another moment. "Fine," he snapped.
"Sorry if I put your dick in a wringer."
"Yes, well, a little late for that now, isn't it?" he growled as he turned away and walked to the plane, spinning his finger above his head in the universal start the engines signal.
The rest of the crew was watching me from the aircraft door with clear confusion as Ken walked away while I remained in place. He could explain it to them. I turned and made my way to the car. Valencia stepped away from the car to meet me as the driver exited from behind the wheel. I knew from her no bullshit expression what was expected so I dropped my bag at her feet and lifted my arms. She patted me down with the same thorough efficiency she had the last time.
"You sure this isn't just an excuse to feel my junk," I teased in English as she grabbed my crotch. "If you want to touch it, all you have to do is ask."
She didn't answer as she pulled my phone out of my pants and deposited it in her jacket pocket. I hadn't had my cell with me the last time I met her. Since there was no cell reception anywhere in Mata de Juárez, I didn't see any reason to carry it, and it had remained in my room at the rig, switched off, until today.
"I'm keeping this. A cell will be given to you," she said, also speaking English. She glanced at my bag after she finished her pat down. "Anything in there I should know about?"
"9 millimeter Sig."
"Anything else? Any drugs? Tell me now, because if I find anything later, you won't like what happens."
I grinned at her. "Are you interested in a bunch of condoms? Never been used." She didn't even crack a smile, waiting for a straight answer from me. "No. No other weapons, no drugs."
She jerked her head at the car and the driver approached, picked up my bag, and placed it in the trunk. "Front seat," she said, pointing to the passenger door.
I settled into the sumptuous comfort of the big Merc, Valencia sliding into the back seat behind me. I didn't turn to look, but I wouldn't have been surprised to see a pistol pointing at my back.
The drive to Voice's estate was quick, cool, and uneventful. As we approached the compound's gates, the man on guard duty stepped through the man gate, approached the car to glance inside, and then nodded before returning to the other side of the barrier. He used a key to open a box, reached inside to press something, probably a combination based on how his hand moved, and the gates slowly swung open.
The big Merc oozed through the gates and up the driveway before pulling to a stop in the garage bay nearest the house. We exited the car, and I followed Valencia and the bag toting driver around the edge of the house, passed a fenced pool, and deeper into the grounds as we followed a wide footpath made from the same brick as the patio, pool surround, and drive. We rounded a dense planting of some unidentifiable, but beautifully flowering, tropical plant to reveal another, smaller house, with a pool of its own. Compared to the main residence, this house was far less ornate, but nobody would call it shabby with its brilliant white stucco walls and red tile roof.
Beside the pool lounged two women and a man, none of whom were wearing a shred of clothing. It was difficult to tell from the distance, and the fact she was wearing large sunglasses, but I was fairly certain one of the women was Teresa, so I assumed the other two were part of Voice's stable as well. As all three were wearing shades, I couldn't tell if they were watching us, but they appeared to completely ignore our arrival.
Valencia escorted me into the house and up the steps to the second floor. There she turned left and led me to the farthest door. The driver followed us inside, tossed my bag onto the king size bed, and then stepped back to stand silently at the door. Saying nothing, Valencia opened my bag and began setting out my clothing.
