Page 101 of Bastard

She doesn’t wait for my response. “Babies.”

I choke on my sip of water.

“This man is going to love you like a man should. Girl, be ready because he is going to give you more than I love yous. Maybe inside that lake house. Maybe on the porch or in the hammock. Best wrap your mind around it. That is how I see it.”

I glance down at my cup, wishing there was something else besides water inside. Yet, I feel myself flushing. If last night was any indication, she’s right.

Mustafa scoops up a handful of dirt and then allows it to escape through scissored fingers. “A passionate soul like yours needs fire to thrive or life will be as dry as this dirt.”

“I’d be grounded. Secure.” Yet my words ring false. I like excitement, crave it even.

“Now about tonight’s feast ...”

I laugh. “Should I make Mexican food?”

Her eyes sparkle. “Chocolate-smothered chicken? Why, yes.” She straightens and turns to leave. “Do not be too long out here, girl. I’ll have the basin filled for you to wash up before all the cooking.”

I work until the sun begins to dip in the sky, then follow the road back into the village. Mustafa is singing as I pass the community center. “Be prepared to be amazed,” I call out.

“Girl, you best be prepared to share all your secrets,” she answers without missing a beat.

While I wash, I hear the sound of a truck engine. Every day, more and more locals come into Nmimpi to work. The world is a better place when everyone helps each other. Everyone will benefit, not just those living inside the village. I finish up, then hurry inside to dress in clean shorts and a crisp white top. Mustafa is still singing off in the distance. I hear voices, men in conversation, but think nothing of it. My thoughts are on the meal I’m eager to prepare.

Sandals on, I exit my hut.

Hayden won’t be a part of tonight’s festivities. But I’ll smoother chocolate all over my body and offer him a different kind of feast when he returns.

I laugh.

It takes exactly ten steps to realize I should have paid closer attention towho’dbeen talking moments ago. I stop short, right in front of the blond Russian from Cape Town. The same man who was with the South Africans who passed through Nmimpi. He has a flat tire under his arm and a fierce scowl on his face.

Dios. Maybe he won’t recognize—

“You.”

My mind races, desperate for an excuse as to why I’m here, exiting a hut in the middle of nowhere.

“Vere’s Sabine?” he snaps. “Is she vith you?”

“Sabine?” I weakly reply.

“Ogdenhayer raised motherfucking prices after she disappeared. My boss is not kheppi. Vere is she?”

I feel the stares of the three blond men accompanying him.

“I don’t know.”

“She left vith you.”

“No. The last time I saw her she was trying to escape her husband’s men.”

“Ogdenhayer believes Sabine departing vas your doing.”

“My doing? Sabine is a grown woman. She’s capable of making her own decisions.”

He waves to his men. “Find her.”

I throw my hands in the air. Maybe this won’t end so poorly? So long as he doesn’t ask me what I’m doing in Nmimpi or where did my husband get to.