Disclaimer - I do not own anything affiliated with Universal studios because that is where The Fast and the Furious comes from and I ammerely using the character from their films for creative purposes. Also, the song used in this chapter was originally sung by PJ Harvey and is called 'Hardly Wait' (although I am actually more familiar with the Juliette and the Licks cover) This story was also inspired by the song 'Love Comes and Goes' By Stillwater. So please, don't so me for using your material.I mean no harm. It is all in the name of entertainment. And I can't afford it.
AN: Hello Candy Cane children. Thanks for joining us on this new adventure,I hope you enjoy yourself. Please keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times, we can't have any nasty little creatures biting you. Plus I'm not insured for things like that. Right, we have ourselves a new story, as you probably gathered. Just a little something I made earlier whichI do so hope that you all like. It would make my day. If you would be so kind as to review, I would heartily apreciate any feedback you have to give me for this here story. Right, enough of my ramblings, enjoy the ride - Jet.
Love Comes and Goes
By Jet-Indigo
Dirty Paradise
Greta leaned against the back wall of Dirty Paradise, a cloud of smoke enveloping her before fading into nothingness before her eyes. With one arm over her stomach and the other holding her cigarette, she stared blankly out from the shadows at a small gecko pacing around the sandy ground. Her lips curled slightly in a smile as a light early evening breeze fell across her neck and ruffled her hair.
The distant rumble of an engine caught her ears and she noticed the gecko scurry away to the closest hiding place. Looking up through dyed red tendrils of hair, she saw a white van heading down the dirt road towards the bar. Loud rock music was blasting through the vans stereo system and the open windows. She rolled her eyes as it pulled into the car park and stopped ten metres away from where she was standing.
The music stopped with the engine and the door flew open as the occupant got out. A tall guy stepped onto the sandy plain and looked up at the neon sign that read 'Dirty Paradise'. Dark brown messy hair accentuated his healthy tan and his silver lip ring glinted under the Mexican sun. He pulled at his black singlet in a vain attempt to ventilate air against his skin before pulling out his clipboard and approaching Greta with a smug smile on his face.
"Hola, como estas?" He greeted, in a perfect Spanish accent. Greta stared at the floor, pretending not to have noticed the delivery driver and taking a long drag on her cigarette. He cleared his throat and she looked up at him, blowing out her smoke as she did so and engulfing him with the stale stench of cigarette.
"You talk?"
"Not much," she replied, her Irish accent barely coming through in the almost inaudible utterance. He cocked an eyebrow at her, slightly bemused by the quiet girl he was staring at. He took in her uncomfortable manner as she took the last drag of her cigarette and threw it to the ground stubbing it out with her foot.
"Well, I've got a delivery for you so I just need you to sign this for me," he explained, holding out his clipboard. She took it from him and looked down at the invoice of alcoholic drinks and snacks that would be used to stock up the bar. She scanned it quickly in a vain attempt to see if it appeared right. Her boss was all about the free salty snacks – it made the customers order more drink. What a smart man he was.
She clutched the pen attached to the board by a piece of scraggy string and scribbled a signature at the bottom. Handing it back to him she smiled meekly and ruffled up her hair a little, ready to go back inside to finish her shift. She was almost at the door when the delivery guy hurried up beside her, a crate of Mexican beer in his arms.
"Where d'ya want this?" He asked, as she held the door open for him.
"Uh, over there will do," she replied, pointing vaguely near the fairly low supplies of alcohol. She watched him set the crate down and turn back to her.
"Fancy helping?" He asked, in a tone that implied he had expected her to do so in the first place. She muttered a reply and hauled a box to the door so that it would stay open as they moved things into the back room. Following him to the van, she remained silent as he handed her a crate and she walked away with it.
"You really don't talk, do you?" He said, in an attempt to strike up a conversation with her.
"I don't even know you," she replied, without looking back at him. Greta continued into the back room, feeling her cheeks flush red with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. Coming from a boisterous Irish family, she had naturally blended into the background and was never one for being in the limelight. She had been sent to a highly religious Catholic school that had made her withdraw from being loud and attention seeking. She was probably the only one of those girls that hadn't used the paid for education to go to University. She was probably the only of those girls who didn't rebel – aside from moving to Mexico away from her family to get a job in a bar that she knew her parents would hate. Well, maybe she had.
Her three older brothers had always been favoured by her father – they were young, strapping lads, into sport and willing to help with manual labour. But Greta had been seen as just another female, a reproduction machine that was expected to marry out of high school, to someone the family had approved of course, and become a housewife just like all of her darling cousins.
Her family weren't old fashioned; it was just the way things went. It was like a tradition of some sort. A couple of her cousins had gone to college and got good jobs – now shining examples of how the Lewis family could excel. And they were often subject to much speculation and gratitude down the local pub where there fathers would sit and drink Guinness and brag to all of their friends.
Greta however, had finished high school, worked throughout the summer until she found out her exam results and left home. She had scored A's in biology, geography and ancient history, everything else she had just scraped C's – but she hadn't cared. The only reason she had stuck around was to prove to her father that she could pass, even it were by the skin of her teeth. The look on his face was enough; it had satisfied her to no end because nobody, least of all her father, had expected her to pass.
"Greta, where's Rosa? She's late." Came the harsh voice of Tony, her boss, his thick Mexican accent grating through his bad English. Greta looked up as she placed the crate down and dusted herself off.
"How the hell should I know? I've been here all day," she replied.
"Well, tell her to get her ass down her pronto. The show starts in half an hour and if there's no dancer there's no show is there?" Greta could practically see the vein in his head bulging as he angrily told her to sort out the mess he should be sorting himself. Tony was the kind of man you would expect to come to work with stains on his suit and still demand utter respect. He owned a strip joint – of course he was going to be a dirty old man. He was fat and bulged in every place that could bulge and some places that really shouldn't; the tight suit and tie that practically choked him did nothing for his look.
Greta rolled her eyes behind his back as he waddled away, muttering curses under his breath. She pulled her mobile out of her pocket and searched through the numbers until she found Rosa's.
"Rosa, you had better get yer arse down here pretty quick. Sanchez is about to have an aneurysm," she said into the phone, her back to the door as the delivery guy walked in with another crate. He watched on amused as she spoke to the person on the other line. She hung up and turned, only just noticing he had been watching her.
"What?" She shrugged, pushing the phone back into her pocket before breezing past him to get in the rest of the crates. They carried on in silence, mainly due to Greta avoiding spending too much time in the same room as the guy. It was a natural thing with her, as soon as anyone new came along she became quiet and withdrawn. She did try to talk to them but her words would either come out wrong or she would feel like an utter fool.
Greta worked on the bar of the establishment, and when she was out there serving people the shyness seemed to go away. Maybe it was just because it was her job and the way she talked was no patch on her personality. But it was like she forgot to be embarrassed when she got someone's order wrong – though she'd been working there for so long she hadn't done that in quite some time.
Watching the arrogant son of a gun bring the last crate in from the van she patiently waited for him to vacate the premises. Leaning against the door frame she watched him dust himself off slightly and turn to her, but she averted her gaze before he could catch it. 'Guess I'll see you next week then,' he said, brushing past her purposefully and heading towards the van.
She stared after him, shaking her head slightly before muttering a curse under her breath. Shutting the door, she weaved her way through boxes until she made it out of the store room. As soon as she stepped out of the store room, Tony was back on her case. 'Well? Where is she?'
"I don't know Mr. Sanchez, her phone was turned off. She'll be here, she's never missed a show yet," Greta replied, squeezing through the punters and heading straight behind the bar.
"She's not here yet, then?" Esteban asked. Esteban was another bar worker, born and raised in the wonderful country of Mexico. He was slightly dark and slightly mysterious but that was why Greta liked him so much. He knew the right time to speak and the right time to just stay quiet. They had both started at similar times and usually escaped for a sneaky cigarette behind the bar.
"Nah, I left a message on her phone but I couldn't get a hold of her. She'll be here, I know it."
"I hope you're right G," he replied, handing over two drinks to a customer and taking their cash.
"Who's next?" She called, leaning with her hands on the bar. Several patrons began vying for her attention but she picked one out randomly, taking their order.
She had almost forgotten about Rosa until a song began playing loudly over the speakers and the lights were dimmed. Every week, Rosa would perform her show to the ever-loving crowd. The audience began to cheer and wolf whistle at the guitar riff, knowing just what was about to happen next. The curtains tweaked slightly, before sweeping across the stage, revealing a silhouette of a woman. She was leaning on the microphone stand, one hip jutted out predominantly. Amazingly high stilettos gave her extra height and accentuated her olive tone legs. Her chocolate hair fell down her back, and across her bare shoulders, curling slightly here and there. She was a Goddess, even in the dark.
"I can hardly wait," she sang, in a sultry voice. A lone spotlight surrounded her, following her along the stage as she strutted in those heels and sang into her microphone. The song stepped up more, drums kicking in to give it a rockier beat. "It's been so long, I've lost my taste." She ran her finger across her tongue lightly and then down across her bottom lip. "Say angel come, say lick my face." She pulled one strap of her tight black top down her shoulder, biting her lip slightly. "Let fall your dress, I'll play the part. I'll open his mouth wide; I'll eat your heart."
While the song slowed down again, she turned her back to the crowd, slowly lifting up her top to reveal the womanly curves of her hips - the dip at the bottom of her back and the imprint of her spine as she stretched out of the clothing. She outstretched her arm, dropping the garment to the stage and the crowd were beginning to sweat, cheering her on and wolf-whistling.
"I can hardly wait. I can hardly wait…" She turned back to the crowd now, her thumb tucked into the lightly sparking hot pants that left little to the imagination. As the song kicked in again, she dropped to her knees, placing on hand down and singing into the other. "Lips cracked dry, tongue blue burst." She was crawling across the stage now the arch of her back moving silkily, feline-like. "Say angel come, said lick my thirst. It's been so long, since I've lost my taste!" She was at the front of the stage, running a finger down an even more excited watchers face. "Here Romeo, make my world my world as great." She practically growled at the man, who was now gloating in front of his pals. She jumped up, giving them a nice view of her rear in the hot pants as she did so. "In my glass coffin, I am waiting…" She repeated the line over and over, her movements slightly jarred in order to fit the music. She finished the last line on a long note, striking a pose to finish on.
Wild. That was what the crowd could be described as. Greta smiled to herself as the girl dropped the microphone to the ground in a typical arrogant rock star style act before slinking off the stage. But the show wasn't over yet. In fact, it had only just begun.
Five minutes later, three girls were wrapped around poles on the stage, writhing around and earning themselves a hefty sum of tips. Rosa may not have been as bare as the other girls, but she was the one that attracted most of the men. They came to watch her; the other girls were just a bonus.
…
"Dirty Paradise?" Letty spat out with disdain. "What kinda name is that for a bar?"
"Let's check it out Let; it's the only place still serving alcohol," Mia said, trying to persuade the stubborn lady. They hadn't been in Mexico long but all five of them desperately wanted something to drink. Having travelled from San Francisco by car, they were all tired but too wired to sleep. They were finally in the country they had been looking forward to since, well, since everything began. It was just a shame they were a man down.
Dom wrapped his arm around Letty's shoulders, kissing the top of her head as they made their way inside the only bar, still open at 3am. Leon, Vince and Mia followed shortly behind, surprised to find that the bar was still quite lively with people. Dom went to the bar while the other four found seats.
"Well, I guess it isn't that much of a dive…"Letty said, looking around, mainly at the dancers on the stage.
"I know. I'm enjoying it already," Leon smiled, sitting back in his seat for a prime view of the girls. Letty rolled her eyes at Mia but couldn't escape the smile that appeared on her face. Dom headed back to the table, four Coronas and some form of alcohol-pop drink for Mia held skilfully in his hands. Leon and Vince grabbed their beers before he could place them on the table, slinging back almost half their bottles.
"So, what now?" Mia asked, watching her brother as he sat down.
"We just enjoy ourselves Mi. We've done the hard part now." Dom looked around at his four companions, thankful that they had made it this far. He stared into those eyes of his sisters for a moment, a small but evident smile on his face. She matched his smile, shaking her head and letting out a small laugh.
"Right," she answered, sipping from the glass bottle.
"I've got a good feeling about this place," Leon mused, nodding mainly to himself. "I think things will be cool here."
"Me too," agreed Letty.
Slowly, the bar began to empty, the stage now lost behind a thick, red curtain and the music lightly audible. They barely noticed the eventual changes in the bar until they were the only ones still left drinking. It was nearing 4am, and around them Greta and Esteban cleared the tables and put up the bar stools.
"Hey guys, sorry to bust up your fun but we're closing the bar up soon so if you want a last drink, best make it quick," Esteban explained to the five of them.
Mia smiled at him, "No problem. We better go in a minute anyway."
Esteban smiled at them all, taking his cloth back to the bar where he leaned to talk to Greta. Watching from the corner of her eye, she saw as they all got up, grabbing their belongings and heading towards the door.
"G'night guys," Esteban called after them.
"Night, thanks," they all replied, in a jumbled form. As the last one left, Greta walked over to the door, locking and bolting it.
"Gawd, it's been a long night," she sighed, grabbing her jacket from the hook by the bar and her and Esteban headed out through the back door. They walked home side by side, chatting idly.
"It wasn't too bad, it's gonna be dead tomorrow though so that'll be worse," replied Esteban.
"True. Oh, did I tell you about the arrogant delivery driver?"
"No," he replied, looking at her with questioning eyes.
"He sped up to the bar, jumped out tryin'a speak a load of Spanish to me, then expected me to help him unload his damn truck."
"Lazy mierda…"
"Then, he had the cheek to tell me I didn't talk much. What did he expect me to say, 'I'm so glad to be helping you do your job'?"
"Sounds like an asshole to me," Esteban stated.
"You're telling me. He's coming back next week."
Until next time...