Disclaimer: I do not own anything remotely connected to From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series. I'm only borrowing it for a while. I do, however, own my original characters.
Driving through the Mexican desert, at the best of times, is tedious and uneventful. Even when the sun is ablaze, the scenery is sparse and monochromatic, the towns few and far between with little to catch the eye. Imagine it now at night with only the focused rays of the car's headlights to illuminate the lone strip of highway ahead. All else is pitched in darkness. Santanico leans her head back against the headrest and looks out the window. The clear sky displays the stars in a beautiful array seldom seen in populated areas. The moon is absent, preparing for a new cycle. A traffic sign zooms by. Monterrey, 200 kilometers. Approximately 100 kilometers to a dingy, one-story motel outside of Los Herrera. At the speed Richie is pushing the Charger, they will be there in no time. She drums her nails on her arm rest, releases an exasperated sigh, and turns her head to face Richie.
"I still think this is a bad idea." Richie glances at her quickly before returning his eyes to the road.
"We don't have a choice and whether we like it or not, Uncle Eddie is right. We can't pull this off without Seth."
"He will not be pleased to see us."
"No, he will not. My bet is on 'Fuck off' or 'Go to hell'."
"What do you think of the rumour of a woman traveling with him?" Richie cracks a smirk.
"Doesn't surprise me. Seth never has difficulties where women are concerned. They flock to him like moths to a flame." The smirk disappears and his tone takes on a more serious edge. "And Seth doesn't do well on his own." Santanico gives Richie's free hand a gentle squeeze, to which his eyes flit momemtarily to the side, and returns her attention to the fleeting landscape.
And Seth doesn't do well on his own.
Santanico mulls Richie's words over in her mind and thinks to herself, neither does Richie. As much as she may have disagreed initially with Uncle Eddie, she now has to admit the most obvious of truths. Two Geckos are better than one.
1 week earlier
Richie pulls into the parking lot of Fast Eddie's Colour TV Repair with a cool exterior of slicked back hair and dark shades, but inwardly fighting off a swarm of butterflies. It's been years since he has visited his uncle and much has gone down since then: Seth's botched Houston job, his incarceration, Richie's self-imposed exile outside Emporia. For all his intelligence, he has no idea what will happen once he walks through the door. He pulls off the sunglasses and puts on his signature horn-rimmed before exiting the car. He strides across the parking lot and raps on the door. Bouncing anxiously from foot to foot as the sun beats down on him, he swipes away wisps of smoke rising from his suit coat. The door opens abruptly and Richie plasters a grin on his face. His uncle stands stoically in front him.
"Uncle Eddie!" Eddie continues to remain still for a second or two, regarding his nephew under raised eyebrows, then backs away, forcing Richie to grab the door before it closes on him. The older man moves to stand behind the counter, and begins to punch keys on the cash register until it dings open. Confused over his uncle's silence, Richie approaches the counter and lets out a weak chuckle.
"It's me!" Eddie replies by throwing a receipt onto the counter. Richie picks it up.
"What's this?"
"A receipt..for two headstones and two plots I squared away this morning. Just a matter of time before the Rangers sent me your bodies. I called in a lot of favours to get you a nice spot, on a hill. You can see the Mother Bayou and everything. It's beautiful." Richie's grin fades and a look of sympathy animates his features. It never occured to him when he was plotting his and Seth's demise what effect it would have on his uncle. The guilt washes over him, crashing tenfold as Eddie describes the aftermath of Richie's staged car crash.
"You owe me six grand." Richie nods his head and pulls his wallet from inside his suit coat. Eddie's eyes soften as he watches his nephew count the bills inside.
"Get over here, you stupid, gullible son of a bitch!" He walks out from behind the counter and embraces Richie in a fierce hug, his nephew's face breaking into an enormous smile as he pats his uncle on his back. Richie can't help but think that it is, indeed, good to see his uncle again. Eddie pulls back with a quizzical look on his face.
"Goddamn, what's that smell?" he asks. Richie is quick to reply.
"Too much Mexican." Eddie steps past Richie and makes his way towards his living quarters at the back of the store, Richie following close behind. A cursory glance of the place reveals that nothing has changed.
"Fiery car crash? Only that HAL-9000 brain of yours could have worked it out. I got to tell you." Eddie stops and turns to Richie. "All that shit's just a movie trope. It does not work in the real world. Even if you do burn the bodies." Richie's eyes take on a mischievous glint, and a wicked smile curves his lips.
"It does if you match the dental work."
"Aaah. Open the pod bay doors, baby." Eddie walks over to a table butted against the kitchen counter and busys himself while Richie plants himself on the top of a leather chair nearby.
"Please tell me you're here to share some of that cool 30 million with your dear old Uncle Eddie."
"We lost it. Our fence wasn't on the up-and-up."
"I can hook you and your brother up. Where is Seth anyway?"
"I don't know." Eddie turns his attention to Richie who stares composedly back at him. Richie prays to whatever gods will listen that Eddie doesn't pursue the matter further. It's a conversation he is not entirely prepared to have, not yet, maybe not ever. Several silent, tense-filled seconds pass like several years until Eddie breaks the silence.
"That's smart too. Stay separated. That way they can't put you together in case one of you get caught." Richie casts his eyes down, swallowing the truth and the guilt of his separation from his brother.
"I'll make a cup of Joe. You want some?"
"No, thanks."
"What's the matter? You afraid it'll keep you up all night?" The left side of Richie's mouth curves up in a devilish smirk.
"I'm up all night anyways."
"This ain't no mountain grown shit." Eddie hefts the bag of coffee beans in his hand for emphasis. "These are magic beans from Indo-fucking-nesia. Got a funny way of picking them over there. They got these monkeys that run around eating all the red berries off the trees. The beans move through their digestive tract, supposed to add flavour. Then they sell the shit to fools like me that got nothing better to do than perfect their brew." Richie stands and walks over to his uncle while he extols the unique harvesting practices for Kopi Luwak.
"I gotta tell you, might come out of the poop chute, but you get hints of vanilla, all-spice, forest floor. It's good shit." Richie cringes.
"I'm gonna pass." Eddie inhales the aroma from his coffee before taking a sip, savoring its rich flavour like a fine vintage. Richie decides this is the time to take control of the conversation.
"There's a job I've been planning, high risk, high payout. I'm putting the crew together and you immendiately came to mind. You interested?" Eddie sets down his coffee mug, placing all his focus on Richie.
"You're planning a score?"
"Yeah."
"What's the mark?" Richie hesitates. He and Santanico agreed that Richie should reveal as little as possible of their true goal, but he knows that if he remains too vague regarding the plan, Uncle Eddie will balk at his offer.
"Not a what. A who. A Mexican kingpin named Amancio Malvado." Eddie releases a drawn out whistle.
"You weren't kidding about the high risk. Why him?"
"Why not?"
"What's your play?" Richie pauses again and his uncle senses that his nephew is taking too much time and care in choosing what can be said and what cannot. His patience begins to thin, but he continues to give Richie the benefit of the doubt.
"Simple in and out. I can't go into greater detail yet. I'm still gathering intel, but trust me when I say it is well worth the risk."
"Who do you have on your crew so far?" More hesitation from Richie.
"If you say you're in? You, me, and a woman with personal insight and knowledge of Malvado." Eddie shakes his head.
"Three people? For a high stakes job? No way. We need Seth. Where's your brother? He still in Mexico?" That's all Richie needs to hear for the pain and frustration from years in Seth's shadow to come spilling out. He paces wildly back and forth.
"I knew it! I fucking knew it! Why do I even bother? You don't think I can do anything without him and you never did!" Eddie quickly rises from the chair and grabs ahold of Richie's forearm, turning him to face him. He looks him dead in the eye.
"Wait a second! It's not that at all. You and your brother, you're the best I've ever seen. The best! He's the ace. You're the wild card. Together you make a beautiful hand." Richie yanks his arm away, adjusts and smooths his suit coat, and straightens to his full height.
"Things changed in Mexico. I got the edge now. I'm a new man."
"And I'm an old one!" shouts Eddie, pointing a finger at his nephew, "Let me tell you something, Richard. Life is shorter than you think. You go around burning bridges, you're going to end up all alone on an island like me." Eddie sighs, his face fallen in dejection, and walks over to his chair. He picks up his empty mug, goes to the kitchen, and begins to gather and wash what few dishes are within his arm's reach. Richie's eyes follow him, his bearing a little less inflated. He doesn't want to leave things this way. He walks into the kitchen and leans against the counter near where Eddie is working, his shoulders slumped, his tone contrite.
"Even if I knew where Seth was, he's more likely to shoot me than to speak to me. I did the leaving in Mexico." Eddie stops washing the dishes, his attention remaining on the trails of soap bubbles snaking their way to the drain. Richie takes his uncle's stillness as a cue to continue.
"There was a woman, isa woman. She needs my help. I left Seth to go with her. At the time, I thought it was the right thing to do, to break out on my own."
"And now?" Richie runs a hand through his hair, loosening a few gelled strands to fall to frame his face.
"I promised I would help her. I intend to keep that promise."
"And what about your brother? Hmm?" Eddie turns to face Richie. The muscles in his jaw are tense with a mixture of anger and frustration. "What about him? This woman, this new partner of yours, is she worth abandoning Seth in Mexico?" Richie stands bolt upright from his place at the counter, his hands facing outward in front of him.
"Now wait a minute! I did not abandon Seth. That isn't how-" Eddie takes a step to stand nose to nose with his nephew, his eyes boring deep into Richie's.
"You can paint this in whatever shade of bullshit you want, but when it comes down to it, you left your brother behind in Mexico! And for some woman you knew for less than 24 hours. You abandoned your family!" Eddie backs off, his posture less confrontational, the anger disspelled.
"This woman. Is she the one on your crew?"
"Yes."
"And you trust her?" The first word that comes to mind is no. Santanico is a survivor. She will do whatever is in her best interest. That being said, he has noticed a difference in her since her release from the Twister. He just hasn't decided whether it is a change for the worse or better.
"I trust her with what needs to be done. She wants this plan to succeed as much as I do." Eddie rubs the back of his neck, kneading hard into the muscle, and releases a deep sigh.
"Alright. I'll help you, but only if Seth is on the crew." Richie opens his mouth to protest or to agree; Eddie doesn't give him a chance to voice his opinion.
"I don't want to hear any shit, Richard. If this job is as high risk as you say, we need the Gecko brothers. Plain and simple. I'm sure you've got the contacts to track him down." Richie remains silent, his eyes downcast, his hands nervously tugging at his shirt cuffs. Uncle Eddie is right. He has the contacts and if he doesn't, Santanico does. They could probably have Seth's location in less than a week, if they were lucky. He looks up at his uncle.
"Ok. I'll find him."
The motel is just as Santanico imagined it: peeling paint bleached by the sun, a lighted neon sign with two letters out, the word vacancy blinking underneath, an emptied pool, and sparse vegetation. They park next to a beat up old muscle car that has seen better days, only one of three cars in the lot. Richie is sure it belongs to Seth, given his affinity for the make and model. He turns off the car, and leans back in his seat, releasing a pent up sigh. Santanico returns to drumming her fingers on the arm rest. They stare straight ahead at the door numbered seven.
"No matter how we approach this," Richie says, "the result is going to be the same. Hostile."
"Then we do what normal people do." Santanico looks squarely at Richie. "Knock on the door and say hello."
"Seeing you might piss him off all the more. Maybe -"
"Richard, don't you dare ask me to wait in the car. I am as much a part of this as you."
"Alright. Let's go." They exit the Charger and walk up to the door. Richie wastes no time in knocking, preferring to get this painful reunion over and done with. Thin walls and heightened senses allow them to pick up a heated exchange in hushed tones, a man and woman. Judging from his choice of words and his penchant for speechifying, the man is obviously Seth, but the woman...Richie wonders if, perhaps, his hearing is playing a trick on him. They hear rushed footfalls and cursing. The metal cracking of the blinds being pulled apart catches their attention, but the peeking figure is gone before Richie and Santanico can identify them. The locks on the door are undone, but before they can utter the word hello, they're looking down the muzzle of a .38 Special, Seth's expression stone cold and most unwelcoming. Richie doesn't flinch and stares him down.
"Hello, brother."
"Fuck off, Richard."
