Expedient Getaway
by Ann M. Pino
“But that’s the beauty of their
economy.” Tatum leaned across the formica tabletop, one
hand clutching his burger, fingers digging into the over-soft
bun. “We won’t need papers. Practically everyone is
working off the books.”
I glanced at Fernanda as she dragged a
french fry through the ketchup on her plate.
“But what about the long term?”
I said. “You’ll need a real job. You won’t be
able to make a living playing guitar on the beach or whatever
it is you think you’ll be doing.”
“Well, I can’t apply for a visa.
Extradition treaty, remember?” He grinned and there was
that same eager look in his eyes that I remembered from our shared
childhood. It was an expression that conjured memories of smuggled
Twinkies, turtles under the bed, and garden snakes in shoe boxes.
“Besides, you’ll spot me a loan if I need it, won’t
you?”
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