The corridor was empty so I walked the bike down to the street. I’d go to the coffee shop, live there if I had to, until I saw Corabelle again. I didn’t think for a minute that that pink-haired chick would give Corabelle my number, not after she ran off with the other guy.

When I popped out on the street, a pair of men just a few feet away looked up. Damn it, I’d been distracted. You couldn’t do that in Zona Norte.

“Who the fuck is that?” one of them said, some college kid from stateside, and he took off running.

Shit.

The other man, short and thick and blasting machismo in a leather jacket, strode up to me, smoothing his long sideburns with his fingers. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Just moving on.” I threw my leg over the Harley, but I misjudged his intention. Sideburns rushed me, arms around my chest, and dragged me off the bike.

“You lost me a fine customer.” He delivered a sharp kick to my gut, and sparks flew behind my eyes. He ran his hand along the chrome. “Nice ride.”

When he started to lift it from the ground, I swung my boot around to knock him off his feet. By the time he recovered, I was up again and ready to finish this out. No way was someone going to screw me over this late in the game.

Sideburns seemed to relish the thought of a fight, and I caught the glint of a set of brass knuckles. That was good, I thought. He felt he needed an edge, which meant he wasn’t a street fighter.

He lunged first, and my fist connected with his jaw in a crunch of bone. I had no time to think about the pain, because he was back, delivering several sharp blows to my ribs.

He could hit me there all day. I whipped around, grabbing him by the shoulders and shoving him into the street. He stumbled off the curb, shook himself, and charged again.

I’d had enough of this bullshit, so I let him get close enough to take a poorly aimed shot at my chest, then I aimed low and hard, a forward punch into his gut followed by two in a row to his face. He blew backward, falling into the wall.

He raised his hands in the air and stumbled toward the curb like he was leaving. He seemed calm, too calm, and that’s when I knew he was packing.

This was no good. A sorry-ass punk like him would take a potshot at me when I rode away. I had to shut him down.

“Hey!” I shouted.

When he turned back around, I ran at him with a growl, knocking him into a car. Four rapid punches to his face kept him still long enough that I could reach around and feel for the gun stuck in the back of his waistband, under the coat. I jerked it out, knowing I’d have to ditch it somewhere before I got to the border.

I aimed it at his head. “Back off. I have no issue with you.”

I kept the gun trained on him as I moved to the bike. I couldn’t lift the Harley without lowering my arm. If he had a second one, this was over. Adrenaline soared through my body and I wondered for a moment if Corabelle would notice if I disappeared, rolled into some ditch in Mexico.

Sideburns watched me as I lifted the bike. Normally I would have pocketed the shells and tossed the weapon, but my prints were on it, and the last thing I needed was for him to kill somebody later and drag me into it.

The Harley roared, and I kept the gun in my left hand as I took off down the street, watching him for as long as possible. I had to give the universe credit, she was going to direct me the way she wanted me to go, closing off other avenues until I followed her path. I couldn’t come back to Zona Norte anytime soon. Sideburns would be watching this street, assuming I’d be back, and next time wouldn’t go so easy for me.

I took the most direct route back to the main highway and as soon as I hit the stretch that was unpopulated, mostly trees and brush, I pulled over.

I yanked an oil rag from my saddlebag, and in the light from the headlamp, I emptied the gun, a Glock, letting the ammunition fall onto the rag. I was careful not to touch any of the bullets as I used the rag to toss them into the thick brush.

Then I wiped down the gun as best I could, letting the oily rag take off any prints. I pushed aside a thorny bush and kicked at the dirt to create a shallow hole. Once the Glock was buried and the brush back over it, I breathed out a relieved sigh. That had been too close. Way too close. I’d been in fights before, back when I’d shoot pool in Tijuana and sometimes some punk didn’t want to give up his losses. But this was more. This was another sign that my life was going some other direction.

I got back on the bike and headed toward the border crossing. It wasn’t until the guard checked my ID and waved me back through that I realized how lucky I’d been.

Now it was time to take that luck and make it work on Corabelle. Time to man up and face everything. 

The day had actually gone pretty well.

Austin and I had walked through campus, gotten cheap noodles from a cart vendor, and hung out near the Sun God statue, staring up into its colorful protective face. I suspected he might have skipped a class for me, but I didn’t ask him about it. Fridays were my clear days, catch-up days, but this early in the quarter I could goof off still.

When evening came, he asked if I wanted to walk over to his place. “Don’t worry that I’m trying to get you alone,” he said. “I have six roommates and nobody ever gets anybody alone.”

“Six!” I appreciated, as I had throughout the day, how easy Austin had made everything, as if anticipating my every point of concern.

“If you’re after me for my money, I might as well just give it all to you now.” He pulled a quarter from his pocket and pressed it into my palm.

I swallowed at the contact. Austin had been super hands off, even though I had grabbed him when we hurried out of the building as Jenny stalled Gavin. There was nothing about this guy I hadn’t liked. The world seemed to understand that at this very moment, I needed something like him. I’d doubted fate for so long that it was a relief to actually believe in it again, if just for a day.

He let go and I closed my fingers around the quarter. “So poverty means you live in barracks?”

“It’s a townhouse with three bedrooms. So it’s not too bad.”

We walked along a path through a forest of trees, past the towering library and away from the roof where I spent time with Gavin. I chided myself for thinking about him when the day had been so easy.

“So tell me something,” Austin said, and his change of tone made my heart hammer. Don’t ruin it, I begged. Let it be.

He stuck his hands in his pockets, as if trying to stall for time. My anxiety rose.

“We’ve had a good day, right?” He looked out over the diagonal panels of the sidewalk instead of at me. A few other students were heading out toward the parking lots. We were almost back to the engineering hall, where we’d started.

“Yeah, sure. It’s been good.”

“So why do you seem so sad?”

Back to that. I remembered when he gave me the note. He knocked on the counter, as if knowing he’d done something special by making me smile for a second. Everyone was right, he had been watching me all along.

“Is that too personal?” He stopped walking, still not looking at me.

I came up beside him. “Might be a story for another day.”

“Okay.” He turned finally, gazing at my face. “I guess making you laugh will just have to become my new goal in life.”

I forced a smile, for his sake, even if it wasn’t too convincing.

“See, I’m halfway there.” He reached out and took my hand. “Is this okay?”

I had to smile that he asked permission. “In some countries, I think it means we’re betrothed.”

“A joke!” He slapped a palm against his forehead. “I’m better than I thought!”

I punched him on the arm and he grasped my other hand, facing me like we were about to say wedding vows. His tone got all serious and I swallowed. What would he do now? Try to kiss me in the middle of the quad? I glanced around nervously. Gavin could be on campus somewhere.