"I am Stella Grenadine, and mine is a life of sour diesel smoke and torrid intrigue."
A topsy-turvy adventure where bullets are flying everywhere and romance is in the air.
A beautiful woman falls for a DEA agent and as a result traps herself in a maze of criminal activity.
13
The night air rushed past my face. I felt the over-bubbling energy of the coming DEA drug bust. I also sensed the touch of Ezra’s strong muscular right arm around my shoulder. All of my confusion over the past 3 months disappeared after I met Ezra and fell instantly in love, but the sweet seduction of indeterminacy started creeping back inside me after we had taken off at the Twin Yucca Airport in our State Department Black Hawk helicopter.
I asked myself: What is going to happen tonight? What am I even doing? What is it called Twin Yucca Airport? I had asked myself these questions hundreds of times in my life, but never at a moment like this, in a helicopter with my new successful beau en route to arrest my ex-lover.
3 Months Earlier.
My plane landed at Rosewater Airport, Santa Fe, at about two in the morning. I was tired an hour ago, but now my eyes wouldn’t close for anything. Maybe it was the coffee the aisle attendant gave me with a smile, or the Adderall the gum-chewing twink gave me with a wink.
In front of my parents’ house I paid the cab driver and slipped him some side-boob instead of a tip. He drove off in a huff, I smiled to myself, grabbed my luggage and turned to face the quiet building. Though I could distract myself with my playful antics, I couldn’t make myself do it. I couldn’t step into that house. Some invisible hand was keeping me in my place on the front porch. I turned to the silent garden gnomes next to me. Help.
I whispered, but their stoned faces gave no reply. The invisible hand pulled me backward toward a mildewed hammock in the front yard. Okay,
I said to myself, setting down my bags next to a large maple tree, I’ll sleep out here tonight.
A Santa Fe morning began to clear my head. Clean, dry, and warm, it’s embrace evaporated my recent disquiet and miasmatic confusion about the future. My father’s slow deterioration due to pancreatic cancer took all the energy I could muster, and I thought, swaying back and forth in the breeze, that being alone with my thoughts might be nice for once.
"You have to get
