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“ever been to mexico?”
swanee pronounced it “mess-ico.” it made zelmare smile around her lollipop.
“why, you invitin’ me?” zelmare said.
“no, ma’am,” swanee said. she smirked, looking exactly like the wily would-be outlaw she professed to be. “just makin’ conversation.”
they were having breakfast. it was a quaint little place, all blue and white, that didn’t give them any trouble for their skin, just sat them down with pleasant smiles and asked what they’d like to have. zelmare ordered hotcakes. swanee wanted bacon and eggs.
swanee was dressed as a gentleman. shirt, trousers. the hat she’d been wearing hung on a hook over their table. by contrast, zelmare was dressed as she always was, a real lady in red, feet kitted out in heels, despite their plans for the day. if they were going through with it, she intended to look fine doing it.
“no, i’ve never been. ain’t been much of anywhere, you know. what d’they have in mexico,” zelmare said, pulling her lollipop from her mouth. she dipped it in the ashtray on the table and twirled it in the ashes until it was coated gray and white, and then she left it there. “anything to see? or just desert in all directions?”
“well, i heard they got tortillas, an’ empanadas, an’ those bands that wander ‘round in those sparkly outfits,” swanee said, and then she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “and i even heard they got scores of beautiful ladies here, there, and everywhere.”
the waitress returned with their food. swanee straightened back out as the waitress laid out their plates. zelmare noticed her wandering eyes lingering over the girl’s modest bust. any other day, zelmare might roll her eyes, if she could bring herself to care. the girl was a bit of a hoochie-coocher. zelmare couldn’t blame her. she was still young—not that zelmare was old, but it was different enough. the waitress wished them good eating, and left.
zelmare giggled. “that so?” she said. “don’t know i have much use for beautiful ladies, considering the most beautiful lady is sittin’ right in front of me about to dig into her breakfast.”
swanee smiled her sweet, devil-may-care grin, the same one that’d made zelmare fall head-over-heels in the first place.
through her food, swanee jabbered on and on about mexico, the sights and sounds she imagined, the scents she wanted to smell. she said it was hot, even in the winter, hotter than anything, the sun or hell, and that they could sweat it out on a beach together once they came into some money. zelmare thought that sounded awful nice, far better than the chill, gray midwest. after they finished, they paid the bill and wished the waitress a good day. they stood outside the eatery for a few moments, sharing a last cigarette before they pulled nylons over their heads and drew their guns. maybe, zelmare thought as she kicked the door in and aimed at the first teller she saw, a cacophony of screams rising around herself and swanee, we can take a jaunt down to mexico after this haul. wouldn’t that be somethin’?