by Zvi A. Sesling
The Mexican chick, Carmelita, I’ve been
visiting in Tijuana for months wants to know why I am divorced, so I tell her.
The first wife fucked half the Seventh Fleet in San Diego. They literally came
and went. In and out, so to speak. The second wife chose the Marines at Camp
Pendleton while I was at work so she could buy the clothes she took off for those
My guess is this Mexican gal,
Carmelita, probably used to earn her pesos on the streets of Tijuana. I really
don’t care because like the past times I’ve been in Tijuana, she is going to
let me get laid tonight, bless her brown thighs. But then, unlike the past
times, she shows a picture of her late husband, a fat, smiling Mexi wearing a
sombrero and a smile that reveals two missing teeth up front and a belly that’s
downed too many Cervesas. She says his name was Poncho, but it sounds like
Pauncho to match the picture.
Then she says the drug cartel filled
him with a hundred pieces of lead because two and a half million dollars in
some drug deal is missing, and now they are looking for her because Poncho gave
her half a million to get away to San Diego and set up a place for them with different
names. He never made it, so she had to scoot out of Tijuana to San Diego late
at night in the trunk of my car.
So here we are at Papa Pedro’s Bar
& Grille in La Jolla pretending we just met when I see a couple of goons at
the end of the bar.
“Lady,” I say pretty loud, “just
remembered I gotta be at work early.”
And before she can say Oh senor, I’m gone, out the door of the
bar on a side street off Girard in La Jolla and in my Chevy. I make for home.
I had a rented room on Poole Street,
and as I drive up the hill to my pad, I notice a car following me, so I pass my
street and drive up to the main drag and over to Torrey Pines Drive and down
the winding road back to Girard, the car tailing me all the way. I then take rights
and lefts, but the sedan behind me hangs in there.
I stop at the police station and the sedan takes
off. I notice it’s black and has California plates. As soon as it’s out of
sight, I make a U-turn and head home. No car follows.
morning, as Carmelita and I had planned, I hoof it
down to the airport, and get a flight to New York.
Carmelita, who’s been my lover for the
past year since Poncho’s demise hangs in San Diego, a few days while avoiding
the goons. Then she catches a flight to Dallas, spends a couple days there and
then off to Chicago. From there she’ll fly to Atlanta before finally coming to
New York where, with new names and low visibility, we’ll live happily ever after
with the money she converted to a bank check and slipped to me while showing me
her late husband’s picture.
Zvi A. Sesling, Brookline, MA Poet Laureate (2017-2020), has
published numerous poems and flash/micro fiction and won international prizes.
A five-time Pushcart Prize nominee, he has published four volumes and three
chapbooks of poetry. His flash fiction book is Secret Behind the Gate.
He lives in Brookline, MA. with his wife Susan J. Dechter.
is a multi-award-winning writer in both fiction, nonfiction, and poetry. Her stories appear in Hardboiled magazine,
Yellow Mama, A Shot of Ink, Shotgun Honey, Black Petals,
Einstein’s Pocket Watch, All Due Respect, and in the anthologies Deadly
Dames and More Whodunits. Among her numerous writing awards over the years,
she has award-winning stories in Felons, Flames, and Ambulance Rides,
Battling Boxing Stories, and her published short story collection, Crawlspace.
Broken won first place and is her 4th published novel. Her first novel Deranged
won the PSWA First Place award for best published novel. Her next novel, The
Mosaic Murder, was followed with a sequel, The Corpse in the Cactus,
which won First Place and was published in the U.S. and UK. She won several
other writing awards for her short stories, including Grand Prize.
She received both art and a nonfiction Creative Writing
Awards from NLAPW, California South branch, an organization of women writers,
artists, and composers, and she served as President from 1982–1984. She is a
current member of Sisters in Crime, PSWA, and Arizona Mystery Writers, where
she was the first writer to win two consecutive awards in their annual short
Twice Lonni was selected as Writer-in-Residence
at Hedgebrook, a writer’s retreat on Whidbey Island. After living in four states
and visiting many countries, she’s settled in Tucson, AZ. She fills her spare
time showing her art at WomanKraft Gallery, reminiscing on all her travel
adventures, illustrating stories for online magazines, and dreaming up new
tales to tell.