The M.I.L.F. Man

Nothing like the end...

Guy was smiling about some information he'd gotten from his friends in very high places.

I was over the moon about it, too. But I decided to wait and tell Cici in person.

I'd talked to her almost daily before they sent her across to Nogales. She borrowed one of the many "contraband phones" some other women had gotten hold of somehow.

She'd also talked to Ma Mere at the end of each call. My poor mother was especially upset that they were feeding Cici "that awful institutional food! They're like from a vending machine, those sandwiches..."

I don't know how she knew that. But she came from a country where even school lunches were restaurant quality. In fact, in France you can have your McDonalds burger on a baguette, wash it down with beer and order up macarons for dessert. Oh, yes. The French don't play with their food. I believe even soldiers get wine with meals.

On the morning I finally left for the DeConcini crossing, Ma Mere cried salty tears over the football-sized croissants she'd added to our breakfast that day.

And Guy gave me a stout, "Do be careful, my boy. It's not the worst of the border towns, but..."

"I have my Bond phone," I teased.

"Uff! With only the two bullets," Ma Mere chided—still speaking English, to my amazement. "No match for the hundreds those big guns can shoot."

"Well, I'm hoping this lawyer's up to the task," Guy said. "I have the utmost respect for the ACLU, but this is a rather intricate maneuver we're making. And there's a great deal more than just your girl's freedom at stake."

I cut one of those footballs in half but couldn't eat it. Or anything else. Because I had some news of my own that I was rather nervous about.

So, I eased in obliquely with, "She says they need lawyers in the worst way. There are hundreds of people languishing in these towns unable to find legitimate legal assistance."

"Yes, that's quite true," Guy said. "There are just as many criminals waiting to take their money and run. Or to do what those idiots tried to do to you. They sell their houses, some families, trying to raise enough ransom money."

I stirred my coffee—counting to ten--and then hit them with, "So...if I wanted to look into law..."

And Ma Mere let out a squeal of the sort we haven't heard since the Beatles, probably. Honestly, Guy and I both winced as she leapt up, threw her arms around my neck and said, "I'm going to have to go back to church now, too, for this miracle!"

"Who is this woman?" Guy asked. And I sprayed coffee all over the table, laughing.

"This isn't a little trick to get that trust back is it?" she asked. "Like your little escort scheme. Was that meant to embarrass or just exasperate us?"

My head spun. I swear, it was all I could do to spit out a shaken, "Seriously?"

She kissed the top of my head and said, "Bea told us, darling. And I mean, dancing with little old ladies—rather clever, really. I'm sure they were absolutely charmed."

"Well, they weren't all—"

She clapped her hands over her ears, sat, and said, "The eggs are especially good today. You must eat something before you go."