Part 2

A burly man drenched in aftershave settled into the seat next to Margit.

“Going my way?” he asked, his smile coy, his eyes on her pretty face. When his eyes moved from her dark hair to assess her chest and bare arms, they froze at the tattoo on her forearm.

“Would you please get my sweater from the overhead?” she asked. “I am cold.”

He rose to retrieve it. A gentleman for a moment. She slipped her arms through the knitted blue cardigan and buttoned it down. She noticed Betty watching the scene in her compact mirror.

“I’m headed to a convention in Phoenix,” said the man. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed her wedding ring. Or didn’t care. “I could take you to dinner one evening. Is the Valley of the Sun your final destination?”

“Phoenix is not where I get off,” she said.

Done with the man, Margit opened a copy of Raymond Chandler’s The Long Goodbye in her lap and glanced out the window as the DC-6 hummed south over the ever-widening plains. Leonard had given the book to her. He liked mysteries, which was probably why he’d fallen in love with Margit.

The next Western Airlines leg would transport the women from Phoenix to Tijuana.

* * *

In the Tijuana airport, Margit waited near the Western Airlines desk. Betty smoldered by the window. A stick of TNT.

“This is ridiculous,” Margit said out loud, crushing her cigarette in the ashtray stand. She walked toward Betty, stopping in front of her with arms crossed. “Hello.”

“Go to hell,” said Betty.

“It is hot enough here. I wonder where our Mr. Anderson has gotten to.” The attorney from Minneapolis would be representing both husbands during the quickie divorce proceedings scheduled for the next morning. In some seedy office, no doubt. Margit would then marry Leonard when she returned to Minneapolis. Betty and Jerry could do what they liked.

Anderson was also supposed to direct the two women to their accommodations, entertain them at dinner, and do his best to keep them from killing each other.

“If he’s not here in the next twenty minutes,” said Betty, “I’m taking the bus to San Diego.”

“Then what?”

“Then I’ll find a clean hotel, spend the night, and fly home without a divorce,” Betty sneered. “What do you think about that? Turns your plans upside down.”

“You demanded the divorce. It is the only reason I am divorcing Jerry.”

“Tit-for-tat, huh?”

“Not exactly.” Margit had to think about the phrase for a few seconds. Was it tit-for-tat?

“You can have Leonard, if he simply must wallow with something so youthful and innocent. Only you’re not so innocent, are you? You’ve got a dramatic, exciting past in your pocket, an allure that sets men all abuzz below the belt.” Betty sneered again. “You aren’t the first student he’s taken to rutting with during our marriage. Or student’s wife. I’ve smelled the perfumed bitches on his skin. Thought he was done with that when he turned fifty. You don’t wear a scent. You’re a sneaky little tramp. Well, try that shit they were handing out on the airplane. Maybe you’ll smell like a lady.” Betty leaned in to whisper. “And congratulations on the baby. I’m so happy for both of you.”

“I did not know that you knew,” said Margit, taken aback.

“Filth.” Betty turned to place her forehead against the smudged window.
Margit decided to visit the restroom to escape the tension. On her way, she spotted a rotund man with slick black hair and a narrow mustache. He carried a cardboard sign with her name scribbled on it. Betty’s name, too. She waved at the man. He wore a white suit and waved back with a wide smile and bright teeth.

“Ladies!” he bellowed. “Hello. How are you, ladies? Your husbands are clients of Señor Anderson, no? My name is Octavio Juárez. I am the attorney here in Tijuana. Señor Anderson has been delayed in the United States for a couple of days. I am representing you ladies. I am at your service. I will take you to your hotel where you will wait for Señor Anderson. The Hotel Nelson is very good. You will see. The bar is dark and cool.”

“Lead the way,” said Betty, who was known by Margit to be a bit of a lush.