Two countries, one border...to the north, in a place not very far away...called Phoenix, Arizona, a man grabs the Monday morning newspaper off his porch and walks inside. He throws the paper on a wooden table in his kitchen; walking to a counter he pours himself a rich, steamy, fragrant cup of imported Columbian coffee. From the refrigerator, he takes a white, opaque plastic pint and pours the heavy, thick cream into the black coffee and stirs in a spoonful of Hawaiian sugar. Sipping from his cup, the American walks back to his table, pulls out a chair, sits down and reads his paper.

In section B, on page seven there's a small, seemingly unimportant story about a woman named Priscilla who died on a visit to Nogales, Mexico. The article says that she died in a traffic accident. The writer matter-of-factly explains that she was disfigured, that she was pronounced dead on the scene. He doesn't embellish, knowing that his editor wouldn't want to waste the valuable space on an insignificant housewife.

The words briefly explain her whole life; she was married and leaves behind a husband named Ryan and two children, Carolyn and Michael. There will be no viewing, because of the accident. Rosary at 7PM on Friday, traditional Latin Tridentine Mass at 9AM Saturday, Saint Mary Madeline's Roman Catholic Church. Thomas doesn't read about the death however, he didn't know Carolyn or her family anyway, he finishes his coffee and puts the cup in the sink...he throws away the paper and heads out the door to work.

Roughly two hundred miles to the south, on the other side of the border or 'la linea (the line)'; the fence dividing the Mexican state of Sonora from the American state of Arizona. Antonia, Maria and Cecilia finish their shift at a strip club called 'La Booom Booom' next to 'Fernando's on the Calle (street) Elias where they work as stripper-prostitutes.

Cecilia strains a little to fasten the clips on the back of her bra. Antonia pushes her head through and pulls on her blouse. Maria, already dressed, laughs at the other two: "You're both so damned slow"; she complains: "Even with the men…you give them way too much time!" "What do you mean"; Antonia demands. "Don't let her get to you"; Cecilia advises: "She's nobody to talk!" "That's right, I'm nobody Cecilia"; Maria exclaims: "Watch out Antonia, or this whore will have you sharing her dream of going up north to America!" "It will never happen of-course, because she is nobody, no-fucking-body!" Cecilia just grabs Antonia by the arm and they push their way past Maria out of the dressing room and into the bar.

Even at six in the morning, 'La Booom, Booom doesn't close. Antonia and Cecilia walk between the bar where a short, balding man with two-day whiskers drinks some tequila and the booths where the girls service the customer's behind black velvet curtains. A young girl from some ranch further south is almost dragged up to the stage by Miguel, the owner. Once up there she strips off her clothes and dances to the disco music that blares loudly from over-sized speakers in the four corners of the club. Still another young girl sits with a customer at a table wearing nothing but a bra and panties. She tries to get the customer to buy her a drink, pay for a lap dance, or better yet, to take her to a booth for sex.

Walking past the man at the bar, Antonia whispers to Cecilia: "coyote." She tells her friend that this man's name is Juan, "he is a friend of Miguel's and he smuggles people across 'la linea' to places like Los Angeles and Phoenix and even Chicago!" Cecilia is ready to ask if his fee is reasonable, but turning to look at Juan as he drinks another tequila, she doubts that he's reliable...he just looks sad and tired, he looks very tired.

Antonia and Cecilia walk down the stairs through a small hallway and out onto the street. Parked in front of the club, in an old car with the engine running and Mexican 'banda' music playing on his radio, a man with dirty, uncombed hair watches the women with his hungry eyes. "Maria's boyfriend"; Cecilia whispers with a disapproving gesture. They share a giggle, Antonia says goodbye, Cecilia nods her head and they go their separate ways.

Cecilia walks up the street to the Avenida Ruiz Cortinez running parallel to the screen-like fence or La Linea dividing what seems like one city, Nogales into two. A small gate for the Americans or people with papers to walk across is open, but guarded by Mexican and American Immigration officers. The fence is made of thick, hardened steel, screen material. "Like what they use in jails and prisons"; Cecilia laments that she may as well be in a jail or prison. She strolls down the avenue, looking across la linea as the business district in the United States slowly comes to life.

Less than a hundred feet away, a girl sweeps the sidewalk in front of the shop she works at. Cecilia could call out and the girl would hear, they could talk…she smiles at the thought while navigating past pieces of broken sidewalk and open holes. "What would we talk about"; Cecilia wonders in silence, answering her own question: "women's things, clothes, the weather, we'd have lots to talk about..."

She passes a poor, old Indian woman with a leathery, well-worn face and long gray, braided hair sitting up against a wall with a two or three year old child. The little one is very dirty; her clothes are worn and ripped here and there. She sees them and pauses; reaching into her pocket she pulls out fifty pesos. Bending down she puts the bill in the grateful woman's outstretched hand without a second thought.

A man walks past Cecilia as she crosses the street that leads to the main border crossing. She notices the 'Diario Nogales (Nogales News)' a Spanish language newspaper printed in the U.S. that he holds. She scans the headline, 'Van 23 muertos en la frontera de los estados unidos!' It was a sad, yet all too familiar story about 23 undocumented immigrants being smuggled across la linea. They were searching for a better life for themselves and their families...only to find death in the desert when their coyote abandoned them with no water or food or anything.

Cecilia's eyes grow heavy with sad thoughts, her head slumps forward and she looks at the ground as she navigates home and ponders her fate. She may as well be a prisoner in a corrupt system where the politicians and police and rich steal everything this mineral rich country had to offer. She remembers her father, before he died...how he was angry with the government.

She remembers how he would talk to people about the corruption, how he said that Mexico should be as rich as the United States, the weather, the oil, silver ore, the crops and livestock. He knew, he had been to the United States and worked there. He had fond memories and learned valuable lessons. "The United States wasn't perfect"; he admitted, but would offer: "you have a chance there, everyone has a chance and sometimes...good people get involved and even fight the government!"

One day, the federal police came; they beat him in front of his terrified wife and daughter. Someone slapped her mother and knocked her to the floor. The police called her father a traitor and her mother a whore. Her father was dragged-out of the house bloody and unconscious, he was thrown into an unmarked car that sped away as her mother lay whimpering on the floor.

Days later, someone came to their home and said that Cecilia's father was dead! Such a poor family, they couldn't do anything, they couldn't get an 'abagado (lawyer),' her mother was terrified…afraid to say anything. Within six months, her mother died. "Of a broken heart"; Cecilia tells herself with tears in her eyes.

It hurts to think about the past; still...she can't help but remember as she walks up the steps to her apartment on a hill overlooking 'la linea.' She stops at her door and thinks about what happened five years ago...when she was only fourteen.

Within a week of her mother's death, a man from the PRI (the political party of the President of Mexico) came on an official visit. The PRI owned the apartment building. He walked around the small apartment, leering at her emerging figure. He picked-up one of her schoolbooks, "Sociology"; she thinks. The man from this powerful national party laughs and says: "A pretty girl like you doesn't need school." He tossed the book into a trash basket near the sink and grabbed at her arm. With a child's innocence, Cecilia pulled away and the man grew angry, he grew very angry.

Straightening his shirt and marching towards the door, he paused and angrily demanded: "You must leave this apartment by Friday, I have new tenants that want to live here!" Cecilia knew better than to ask for mercy or help or charity. There were a lot of good people in Mexico; unfortunately they were usually the poor and powerless. She was sure that none of them were in politics or in the government and she knew this man was definitely not a good person.

With tears streaming down her cheeks and her hands shaking she makes a decision. In her apartment, she looks out her window to a gigantic orange and red sign in downtown Nogales, Arizona and whispers: "I have to leave this prison!" "I have to take my chances and go to the United States or I will keep living this miserable life and die."

Inside her apartment, Cecilia turns the television on and turns the water on to fill her bathtub. Stripping naked, she slowly sinks into the comforting hot water and closes her eyes. That first day, the first few days after she left her childhood home…it was so hard on her. She remembers being so afraid and so sad, but mostly…she remembers being so hungry. There was no food for a poor girl with no money. She was sleeping in a park in the day, when it was a little safer; she would walk the crowded streets at night. The Americans looking for a good deal or good time at the clubs filled the streets with life until late in the night. Walking past the food carts, she would smell the food; she would get hungrier and dizzy. She thought she might soon join her mommy and papi. She wished she might soon join them in heaven. Then, the Americans would leave, go home to the United States…when they left, the streets grew cold and empty. The crowds and carts and food would all leave, but she would still be alone and afraid, hungry and dizzy.

Out in the apartment, on the television set...a man reporting the news tells of an accident the night before. A woman named Pricilla from Phoenix, Arizona died. He doesn't talk about the family she left behind and goes on to another story about the Zapatistas in some small town in the south, the government says they struck again. The Army attacks and destroys the town with their modern weapons. Local, unarmed Indians are killed…just another news day. One of the stories seem very interesting to the news anchor who quickly changes the subject to soccer.

In the tub, Cecilia still remembers three days later...when she was so tired, so hungry, so dizzy. She almost walked into the path of a speeding truck! A man, an older, good-looking, well-groomed man grabbed her and saved her life. He seemed so nice. Looking at her, he offered: "Can I buy you something to eat?" Cecilia was thrilled and he took her to an American hamburger place. It was so shiny, new and clean...and then when they got to the front of the line and he asked what she wanted, she suddenly realized that she was so dirty and poor and all she could do was cry.

The man ordered for her anyway and they went to a booth where she inhaled the food before she knew what it was. She was so thirsty, she didn't even know she was so thirsty…but she drank three large sodas and the man laughed. He called her his little chupacabra (a mythological Mexican monster that sucks the life out of its victims). Cecilia wasn't sure that she liked the nickname, but she smiled anyway; after-all, her parents taught her to be polite and this man just saved her life...twice!

They spent the afternoon talking and he really seemed so interested in her. She told him everything that had happened, she told the stranger about what happened to her father, her mother, Cecilia told him how she was out on the streets. The man listened and asked: "Don't you have anyone you can go to, don't you have any family?" Sadly, she lowered her head and whispered: "No senior, I have no-one, I am all alone." Hearing herself admit this made it worse and again the tears leaked from her eyes before she could stop them, before she could control herself.

The kind man gently reached across to her and pulled up her chin. Pulling out a handkerchief, he dried her tears like her father used to do when she was much younger. She forced herself to stop, not so much for herself, maybe she needed a good cry...but for him, for this nice man.

"I have an apartment near here"; he offered: "Maybe you would like to clean up there?" Cecilia hesitated for a moment, but he was so nice and this kindness was one she didn't feel she could refuse. She looked down at her filthy clothes and thought about her mother and how angry she would be if she saw her little girl in such a state. Very humbly, she answered: "Si senior, if it is not too much trouble." "No trouble at all"; he answered with a reassuring smile as he took her hand and led her towards his apartment.

They walked the crowded afternoon streets and made their way up some stairs into a small, but clean apartment. The man showed her the way to his bathroom and told her to take her time and enjoy herself. He told her to leave her dirty clothes in the bedroom and he would have them washed before she was finished. Then he went out to his kitchen and she undressed, laying out here filthy clothes on his bed. It felt strange to undress in a strange apartment, with a strange man in the next room, but these were strange times and she walked into the bathroom to wash herself.

Cecilia turned the water in the shower on and turned around...only to see her reflection in the mirror. She froze, it wasn't her; in only three days she had changed so much that she saw a stranger. She saw one of the poor people from the street that she used to pity. She saw a strange Indian girl, someone she didn't know at all. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and felt embarrassed and ashamed.

There was some toothpaste on the sink, she turned on the cold water and rinsed her finger then squeezing some paste on her finger she tried to clean her teeth. She stepped into the shower and the hot water poured over her body, temporarily washing away the dirt and shock. There was some shampoo and some soap and she washed herself once, twice, and and three times completely. She stayed under the hot water for about a half an hour after that. A fresh, clean, thick towel awaited her when she finished. Slowly, in a detailed and meticulous manner she dried herself completely. She found a brush and hand-held hair drier and combed her beautiful, long black hair dry.

Opening the door slowly, wrapped in the towel...she saw that her clothes were gone. "How nice"; she thought: "This kind man is really being so very nice." Yet wrapped in a towel, she didn't feel comfortable enough to call out to him or go into the kitchen with him. "No"; she thought: "I'll wait here until he brings the clothes back."

The soft bed seemed so inviting after her days in the park on the hard ground. It was almost like her bed in her parent's apartment, almost like her own soft, warm, comforting bed. It wasn't even a conscious decision when she lay down and fell asleep…it was exhaustion! The exhaustion of an innocent child whose life has just been shattered; another victim of the injustice and poverty in a place called Mexico.

She woke up as he pulled her towel off, she tried to fight but the man was so strong and he seemed angry as he forced himself between her legs! She tried to say no but he slapped her and told her to be a good little whore. She tried to explain that she was no whore, that she was a good girl, a good Catholic girl, she wanted to explain that she was a virgin...but he slapped her again and again and forced a finger up inside her, then, there was pain, a lot of pain as he drove himself in her...he did it quickly and repeatedly tore at her inner flesh, she felt the pain of something tearing! Trying to plead, trying to scream and yell...he just seemed to get more enjoyment from it and forced his way deeper and harder and faster, with another slap any time it looked like she would open her mouth. Then, something happened to him, he seemed to convulse, his body went through spasms, in a fraction of a moment he pushed himself further and harder and she felt something hot shoot inside her torn womb...it was so fast and there was already so much pain, but she thought she might know. He collapsed on her, whispering how she was a good whore, a good fuck. She closed her eyes sadly and thought: "Well, at least he's finished."

The man lay with her for a few more minutes, and then got up without saying anything. He put on his pants and shirt and went to the door, opened it, let in another man in a brief moment, they shared a glance, a look, a nod, a wink, maybe a word…she couldn't be sure. Before leaving though, she still hears the deep evil laugh the first man shared with his partner; it still sent shivers up her spine!

The next man raped her as well. They took turns over and over, again and again, until the partners forced her to perform every sex act imaginable with them. In-between the visits, Cecilia found she was a prisoner, unable to leave. She would cry and think how disappointed her mother and father would be in her. The men kept calling her a whore and she started thing of herself as a whore.

In two weeks, they took her downstairs, only allowing her to wear a bra and panties. They make the young girl strip on a stage in front of crowds of strangers, and then they made her have sex with the men in the audience for money that they alone get to keep. After work, they would take turns telling her how worthless she was, that she wasn't making enough money for them to keep feeding her, they would tell her that she had to be better to the customers...then, they would take turns satisfying themselves with her young body.

Laying in her tub, soaking in the hot water, she still tried to block out her old memories. "That was almost four years ago"; she tells herself...as if it were ancient history. Cecilia gets up and dries herself off, then dresses in a robe and goes into her kitchen where she grabs a tortilla out of a tortilla holder, she slaps it on her stove, without a pan and turns up the burner. She gets some cheese out and turns the tortilla over, throws some cheese on it, puts the tortilla on a plate and puts the cheese away. She dips a cup in a large pot of water she keeps on the stove; she boils it everyday, so it's clean. Sitting in front of her TV she eats her cheese taco and drinks her water and tries to forget about her past and drown out the present with some mindless TV.

The next 'day' begins at about six o'clock that night when Cecilia wakes up. She has some breakfast, drinks more water, washes, shaves her legs and fixes her hair and maker-up. Looking at her clothes, she puts on some lacy underwear and a silky blouse and skirt. She slides into her heels and walks out her door...looking out at 'la linea' and the country beyond, she thinks, hopes and prays that she might be another day closer to being on the other side. "If I could, I would leave right this moment"; she thinks to herself, patting her purse with her life savings in it.

Cecilia walks past a small family owned mortuary on Hidalgo, inside, the patron of the Ramirez family prepares the corpse of an American woman who was recently killed in a terrible accident. Her family wants her sent up north tomorrow night, so there isn't much time to waste. An incision here another there and the blood starts to drain. "It'll probably take me all night"; he thinks: "But, the gringos, they do pay good."

Cecilia finally makes her way to La Boom Boom, the club she has worked at for two years now. She smells the stench of stale beer and even staler urine when she walks in the club door; she pauses for a minute to get her 'night vision,' because the club is so dark. The music is blaring from the speakers a young girl dances and exposes herself to the cheers of three drunks barely able to sit upright in their chairs. "La Boom Boom at its finest"; she thinks with a dark, twisted smile of her own.

Antonia and Maria are already starting to undress in the back room when she arrives. Antonia seems sad and depressed, so Cecilia asks her what can be making her feel so bad. "Her stupid cousins"; Maria blurts out: "Like idiots, like you Cecilia…they wanted so bad to go north, they wanted so bad to get to America!" "Stop it, shut-up"; Antonia asserts from deep within her torn heart. "Jose and Adan, her cousins from the ranch, they went with a smuggler, they trusted him to take them through the desert"; Maria says with glee: "They died together when the coyote abandoned them about twenty miles north of la linea." "Shut-up"; Antonia exclaims. "They had no water, it must have been a terrible death for them"; Maria continues with a laugh: "…And yet they were so close to some town called Sells, they could have made it if they weren't so stupid!" "That's enough"; Antonia says in a rage, she jumps at Maria and wrestles her to the floor, pulling her hair!

Cecilia tries to stop Antonia, she tries to pull her friend off this bitch, but as the three struggle on the floor, their boss walks in the room. "Enough"; Miguel hollers: "If you want to have a fight, at least do it on the stage where it can be entertaining for our customers!" He sneers and turns out of the room, the girls climb off each other and in strained silence fix their hair and make-up, almost all they'll be wearing tonight.

"I'm so sorry Antonia"; Cecilia whispers as they walk out into the bar. "It's okay"; Antonia answers: "It just hurts." "I know"; Cecilia responds from deep within her heart: "I know."

The girls split up, Maria walks to a table on the left and asks a man if she can join him for a drink, he agrees. Antonia goes off on the right and finds a man who takes her hand and walks her back to Miguel. The man gives Miguel an American twenty-dollar bill and with a nod, takes her into a booth for sex. Cecilia turns and sees Juan at the bar, still looking tired and sad, she decides to go ask him about his business.

"Another tequila"; he tells the bartender as Cecilia, dressed only in a bra and panties and high heels approaches. "Señor"; she asks: "Can I join you?" He turns and looks, he leers at her from head to toe and drinks in what possibilities she brings and then he laughs: "No señorita, I would not be good company, I am not buying anything, and I am too drunk to have sex."

Cecilia was taken aback, it was the first time a man in La Boom Boom had ever decided not to let her sit with him. She looked around the room, hoping that no one had noticed and persisted: "No senior, you don't understand, I want to ask you to help me cross the border, I want you to smuggle me."

Juan swallows his tequila, one of many, then turns and says: "You do not want what I sell, trust me and go away!" "But I do"; she insists: "I need to cross the border and I need to do it now or I will be stuck here forever, I just know it!" He orders another tequila and quickly swallows it before he turns to her and asks: "Do you know what it costs?" "No"; she answers honestly: "But I have heard it is around five hundred dollars."

Juan quickly downs yet another tequila, and savors the taste of the thought he is having. He looks at her through his bloodshot eyes and asks her to come closer. The coyote whispers: "I have a way, but you won't like it…" "I have a way that assures you will cross the border right under the noses of "la migra" and they won't even know it"; he teases: "Right under their noses!"

Looking at Juan, Cecilia notices every detail of his face, his five o'clock shadow, and his drunken, glazed-over, blood-shot eyes. She looks at his pours, swearing that each and every one is open and sweating, even the pours on top, which makes his bald spot look so shiny. His words are a little slurred from all his drinking and Cecilia doubts she can trust this man with her life. Still, curious, she has to ask: "So what is this 'sure' way that you have, what can get me past 'la migra' so easily?"

The small, sweaty, balding, heavy drinker looks around suspiciously and leans forward. Juan whispers: "I have a connection at a funeral parlor, I know this man." "For a price, he will put someone in a coffin that is supposed to hold some gringo to go north." "Their body gets buried here, the casket gets opened by another person up north, after it has crossed Customs, Immigration, everything!" "The agents at the border, they are so stupid, so superstitious, so lazy, they never check!" The coyote laughs and brags in an excited whispers: "It's too easy, it's just too easy!"

Cecilia pulls away, shocked and repulsed. He pounds back another tequila in a quick single movement. She starts to get back away from him and he notices. "Go, you stupid girl, find another coyote"; he tells her angrily: "you'll be robbed, you'll be raped, then you'll get caught or maybe left to die in the desert!" People started to notice and look, but then there was some yelling in one of the booths...a woman's voice, Maria's voice. She was telling someone to hurry-up. She was yelling, insulting someone and telling him to hurry-up. It wasn't the first time, but for once, Cecilia was happy Maria was like that.

By now Cecilia blended into the crowd, deep in the dark room a man bought her a drink while he felt up her leg. The man was telling her how much he wanted her, his hand started to explore her soft yet firm breast before he asked to take her to a booth. Miguel took the money, Cecilia took the man in the booth where she took off her panties and unzipped his pants. Slowly she slips down onto her knees and takes the man in her mouth...slowly she licks and engulfs his long, thick shaft...closing her lips she slides him deeper and deeper in her throat. Her hungry tongue caresses his hot, hardening, living, fleshy manhood in a loving and gentle way.

This was when she felt the only power she had ever known, to have a man at his most vulnerable...throbbing, pumping veins between her teeth. She once heard of a girl who bit a man's organ off and the man died. Of-coarse, she would never do something like that, but for the men to trust her like that, well it seemed very intimate indeed. It made her feel just a little special in their lives even though she knew other women wouldn't admit to it, she knew still others maybe didn't care for oral sex, even though it was so special and unique.

With the customer's organ, fully engorged and eagerly throbbing...Cecilia slowly took him into her hand and started sliding up until she could slide him up between her legs inside of herself. Taking her time, she slowly inserted just the swollen head of his organ into her wet, pink womanhood. Slowly she stroked the head with her own flesh and moved him in a little deeper and a little deeper and a little deeper until the man was completely inside her and moaning in pleasure, begging her to ride him until he could fill her with his love. She smiled, knowing that he might love his wife and children, she smiled that he might love his mistress, but right now, at this moment he really did love her in this intimate act. He might not love her in five minutes, but right now, she imagined, he would sell his soul for her! Little by little, she would ride the man a little harder and a little faster, harder and faster, shoving himself even deeper the customer gasped in ecstasy as he erupted, his hot lava instantly released deep inside her body!

She quickly puts on her panty and walks out of the booth, just as Antonia walks in another booth with another eager customer. Miguel stands by the bar and counts their money. Juan has another tequila. Cecilia sits next to another man, he orders her a drink and puts his hand on her inner thigh. Maria goes back into another booth with another drunk, she likes the drunks; she can make them hurry or humiliate them until they leave...either way, and it's what she calls 'easy money.'

About two hours later, after Cecilia's worked about four or five customers, she starts to think about Juan's offer. Asking around, everyone thinks they knew someone he has sent north and it's true, they are never caught by 'la migra' and returned like with the other coyotes. It seems true, that drunk little man with the strange ideas, well, he must be good at what he does.

Juan slams back another tequila and Cecilia wonders how he holds it, shaking her head she tells herself: "If he isn't dead yet, he will be soon." She taps him softly on his shoulder: "Señor, I want to talk some more…" He smiles in a satisfied manner and tells her: "I knew you'd be back." She almost walks away, but tells herself not to, she closes her eyes and tell herself that she needs to behave herself, sadly she laments: "This might be my only way out."

Maria screams at another customer: "I can't help it if you are not even a real man!" A sullen shadow walks out from behind the black curtain, along the black walls and out the door into the black, lonely night. The emboldened wench strolls up to the bar on the other side of Juan and demands a drink of her own, an amused bartender fills her glass with watered down soda.

Juan and Cecilia continue their hushed conversation, Maria listens with an amused look on her face as the music blares, she strains harder to catch every word the two conspirators share. A drum beats rhythmically, a young girl dances on the stage and Cecilia asks: "Señor, how do we arrange this?" Juan looks at his empty glass as the bartender approaches, and then points to the tequila. "Si"; the bartender acknowledges with a smile and a nod. Maria leans a little closer and strains to hear his instructions.

"Do you have the money"; he demands. "Si, I have the money"; she answers: "five-hundred American dollars." The man smiles and nods: "Good, very good..." "You will not go home tonight, you will not go home ever again"; he tells her sternly: "I will send you north tonight then!" "Tonight"; Cecilia asks, a little shocked: "But, I have, I must..." Interrupting her thought, Juan demands: "If you want to go, you will go tonight, do you understand?" Cecilia nods her head meekly. "Good girl"; he answers, sounding almost like the customers after they have had an orgasm inside her, almost the same satisfaction...

"You will leave here at four o'clock"; He orders her: "Go down the Calle Elias to the Avenida Ruiz Cortinez." "Have you ever heard of the funeral parlor on Hidalgo?" "I have"; she answers: "I live near there." "No"; he corrects her: "You lived near there!" Involuntarily, Maria nods her head as if she were part of the discussion. A customer new to the club touches her arm; she pulls away so she can listen to the conversation.

"You will go there and knock on the door"; he explains: "A man named Ramirez will answer, you will give him the money and he will know what to do." "But who…"; Cecilia hears herself start to ask, but it's too ghoulish, she can't finish her own words. "You will be 'traveling' as a gringa named Priscilla Stevens, not that it matters much"; he shrugs: "She will take you as far as Phoenix, Arizona...have you heard of Phoenix?" "The city or the bird"; she asks proudly as Juan looks up at her, a little surprised...then she explains with a smile: "I read." They both smile at each other for the first time.

click here to continue: 'Crossing the Border"

Created: October 01, 2000r.
Last Updated: May 23, 2005r.