Little Black Dress

“Can you tell us now?” It was Casey's more suitable version of Are We There Yet?

Nacho shakes his head stiffly, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.

“How about . . . Now?”

I watch as he breathes deeply through his nose to calm himself down.

“Now?”

“For Christ's sake! Will you shut that kid up?”

I turn around to Casey, who is clutching his stomach he's laughing so hard. “Casey,” I say. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” He chuckles.

“Being annoying.”

“I am not!”

“You are too!”

“Shush, me sleepy,” Larnie mutters, tucking her hands between her head and the back of her seat so that she could sit more comfortably.

“Sorry, Larnie,” Casey says, and brushes her hair off her forehead.

“You're so sweet,” I tease.

“You're so ugly,” he retorts.

I narrow my eyes and face forward again.

Nacho has recently turned the head lights on, and the road is illuminated in strips of yellow and white. The road ahead of us is shrouded in darkness, and I can't even see the horizon.

Nacho puts his hand on the gear shift as he changes gears, and then we're speeding along the road must faster then we're meant to be, which gives me an uneasy feeling. Even though there are no cars around, it's still dark and we can't see much.

“Please slow down,” I say, afraid not so much for myself but for my family in the back seat. “Please. Larnie doesn't have her booster seat. I don't want her getting hurt.”

Nacho sighs but loosens up on the accelerator. “They have less chance of getting hurt here than they did back there.”

“Yeah, because of you!”

“I am sorry, it was an honest mistake.”

“Yeah well, sorry's just not gonna cut it, okay?” My initial bout of adrenaline has just warn off, and I'm well past that too-tired-to-think-properly stage. “You barge into our house, spout these stupid lines about how it's not safe, convince me to come with you -which, by the way I am really, really starting to regret- and then drag us off along with you on this ride we don't even want to be on, refusing to say anything!”

I take a deep breath. “I have a family here that I'm supposed to protect, and damn, you are making it so difficult! So I think you need to get your bloody head screwed on straight and tell me what the hell is going on before I call the fucking cops!”

The car is stunned into silence. I can hear Larnie's soft breathing in the back seat and Casey clucking his tongue. Nacho doesn't make a sound.

Finally it's broken. By Casey, of all people. “Mira . . .” He chuckles. “I don't think I've ever heard you swear so much in your life.”



I open my eyes to a darkness that's broken by the colourful lights of a dashboard. “Mama,” I mumble, and roll my head to the side. It hits the window and I jerk upwards. “What?”

Nacho looks at curiously. “Huh?”

“Did you say something?”

He furrows his brow. “Um . . . No?”

“Oh.” I settle back down in my seat. “I thought you did.” I look out the window to see dry, barron land. Sand and hey, is that a cactus? “Where are we?” I rub at my eyes and look towards Nacho.

He has both hands -big, big hands might I mention- on the steering wheel, and he's tapping his long leg along to the beat of the song playing softly through the radio. He yawns. “Somewhere between Orange and the East Coast.”

“Wha- Shit! I- I have to call my parents!” I look at the dashboard. It reads 3:12am. “Oh my God, they'd be home by now. They'll be stressed. They've probably called the police and-”

“You can't call them.”

“What?” I look at him silently, dumbfounded.

“You can't call them.”

“Why not?” I pull my Black Nokia e62 from my pocket and unlock it. “You don't understand. I need to!” I look at the screen. God damn, I have no reception.

“Well you can't. Would you just listen to me!”

“Maybe I would if I understood what you're doing!” I sigh. “You were so nice at the pool.”

“Yes, well, I was in a good mood.”

“Then I hate your bad mood. I really hate it. And Nacho. What kind of a name is that anyway? Nacho. You know, I don't believe that's your real name. What kind of parents would name their child Nacho?”

“Spanish and Korean ones?”

“Are you part Spanish?”

“Yes. And Korean.”

“Even more proof that Nacho isn't your real name. Nachos are Mexican. Why would a Spanish person name their kid after a Mexican food?” I did feel pretty smart about pointing that out.

But Nacho just shakes his head. “You're not all that smart, are you?”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

He smiles faintly. “Never mind.”

I huff and cross my arms over my chest. “If you can't tell me what you're- we're running from, you can at least tell me your real name. I mean, I might know you. You do seem kind of familiar.”

Nacho sighs. “You want my real name?”

I sit up straighter. “Yep, the one that's on your birth certificate.”

He takes a deep breath, and on the exhale says, “Ignacio. My name is Ignacio Banderas.”

“Hmm. That's a nice name.”

He looks relieved.

“Ignacio. Ignacio. Ignacio Banderas.” And then it clicks. “Oh my God.”

Now I know why he looks so familiar.

“Mira! Don't freak out!”

“Oh, God. God, God, God. Casey, Larnie, I'm so sorry.” I start to panic.

“Please Mira, I'm not going to hurt you!”

I look at him incredulously. “Really? Are you sure about that?” My breathing becomes more rapid. I put a hand to my chest and force deep breaths.

I look at Nacho, strong, blood-stained hands on the wheel, jaw clenched.

“Oh, Lord, please. Please.” I start to cry.

“You don't know me Mira!” He yells. “Please listen, all that stuff, it was made up! Made up!” He slams his fist angrily against the steering wheel.

“Why should I believe you!” I turn around in my seat and look at Larnie. She's sound asleep, head on Casey's shoulder, his head on hers. He's sleeping to, but his eyelids are twitching in a way that lets me know it's not deep.

“Please don't hurt them. God. Why was I so stupid?” I try to keep my voice down, because I don't want to wake them. I don't want them as scared as I am.

“Mira!” He clamps his hand on my shoulder and shakes me. “Listen to me!”

I shut my eyes and clench my hands. “Let go of me.” My fingernails are digging into the soft skin of my palms. “Just- Just stop the car. I want to get out. Leave us here, please. I have my phone, we'll be alright.”

“I. Am. Not. Going. To. Hurt. You.” He puts his hand back on the wheel. “And I can't stop now.”

“Just let us out!” I scream.

“Wha-?” Casey mumbles before opening his eyes and stretching his back. “What's happening?” He rubs at his eyes tiredly.

“Casey, please just be quiet.” I turn to Nacho. “Stop the God damned car Ignacio, or so help me I will smack you!”

Nacho sighs and runs a hand back through his hair. “Fuck.” And then, miraculously, the car slows and pulls to the shoulder of the road.

I throw open my door and step out, hurrying to push forward the seat, paranoid that he will drive off with Casey and Larnie still in the back. It wouldn't surprise me.

I reach in for Larnie, unbuckling her seatbelt. She wraps her arms around my neck, still half-asleep. “Get out,” I tell Casey, and he jumps out and stands beside me.

“What's going on?” He asks.

I slam the door and take Casey's hand, pulling him off the road.

Nacho rolls down the window. “If you would just listen-”

“I'm through with listening to your lies. Now go away and leave us alone.”

“I can't. You're my responsibility now. You're not old enough-”

“Go away!”

He sighs. His green eyes are wide as he says, “I'll be here, waiting, okay? If you ever need me, just remember that I'm watching.”

“Well that's not creepy at all,” Casey says. He squeezes my hand tightly.

“Go,” I whisper. “I don't want anything to do with a criminal.”

Nacho gives me one last, lingering glance before starting up the Jeep and driving away. His gaze makes me feel dirty, and I have the undeniable urge to take a shower.

I drop Casey's hand and turn around. “Come one, we're going home.”

And I start walking.