I slapped his arm. “No cheating.”
His laugh was deep. “Okay, fine.”
He turned his head slightly to the side and dramatically inhaled.
“Carlos!”
“Doesn't smell like you.”
Chuckling, I turned his head playfully with my hand. “No, it wouldn't. I had just put it on before you took it off with your teeth.”
“Can't wait to take the other one off with my teeth.”
I shook my head. “Shameless.”
He turned around but I looked on as he threw the garter over his head. Roman jumped what looked like five feet off the ground like a football player at the end zone, and caught it. He looked like an utter frat guy when he bellowed and hooted.
“Got it, Izzy!”
My maid-of-honor was laughing hysterically as she half covered her face.
These men would be the death of us.
They'd kill us from humiliation and the best orgasms we'd ever experienced.
“Let's go, Izzy! Catch the bouquet!”
Roman jeered like it was a sport.
“I'm going to kill you!” Iza sang through her teeth with a crazy little smile on her face.
Now it was my time. I had my back-up bouquet- the one meant for throwing. Carlos stood next to me and a smile hadn't left his face all evening.
“Happy, caramelo?”
The giddiness swept up in me like bubbles in a champagne flute. My hands cupped his cheeks and I got on my tippy toes.
“I love you with all my heart. Thank you for accepting me, for loving me despite so many flaws. Thank you for continuing to fight for me when I was too scared to.”
He leaned down and caressed my nose with his. “It was worth it. You're worth everything, Caridad. You are my everything.”
Our kiss was soft and tender. Cheers erupted, breaking the spell we’d woven.
I turned to look down. The last single woman had just stepped onto the sand.
“Okay, ladies. Ready?”
A few of them postured and others nodded. I turned with the bouquet gripped in both hands, and tossed it over my head. I hurried and turned to see the catch. Iza moved two steps to the right, and caught it like a champ. Roman was like her personal cheerleader, and hooted and hollered. Izzy gave him a death glare that made him laugh and tease her more.
“Yea! That's my girl!”
She looked mortified. I couldn't help but laugh.
The photographer took pictures of them, and I went to sit down. Good music was playing, including some of Iza’s favorite 80s songs, and guests were having a good time dancing. I was already in my second trimester and my energy had improved, but I still tired easily.
I needed a small break.
I felt hands on my shoulders as they massaged my muscles.
“Tired, baby?”
“Yes, but blissfully happy.”
He continued to kneed my shoulders and neck, when I sat up.
“Oh my god.” My hands flew to my abdomen.
Carlos was on his knees by my side, lines creased on his forehead.
“Baby, what is it? Want me to call Izzy?”
I shook my head, tears gathering in my eyes. I took one of his hands, guiding it to my belly. I was approaching twenty weeks, and I'd felt some quickening before, but I hadn't expected a kick this early.
It was so, so slight, I almost ignored it. I hoped that Carlos could feel it.
“The baby? Is something wrong?”
God, the concern on his face broke my heart. I needed to ease his worry.
“Nothing. Nothing is wrong and everything is right. Stay still and focus.”
I leaned back a bit in the chair and pushed his hand slightly into my abdomen where I'd felt him.
I smiled and our eyes locked as we felt the subtle movement.
“That was our baby? Our son?”
Too moved to speak, I nodded my head, smiling. Carlos wiped at his eyes. He kissed my tummy and moved upwards to kiss me.
“I thought we had to be further along. Christian is strong.”
My breath caught. We'd discussed names for a while now, and I had told him that it would mean a lot to me that if we were having a boy, to make his middle name Christian, after my brother.
“We discussed it for a middle name, but you made it seem like it would be his first.”
I'd just assumed he was like other men who wanted their first boy named after themselves.
His hands threaded through my curls, palms on my cheeks.
“The first name is fitting. Without Chris, I wouldn't have my wife or baby. He protected you and because of that, I now have the biggest blessings in my life. And I would love for my son to have those qualities. To be brave, selfless, and a protector.”
I threw my arms around him. God, the pain of his loss that I’d dealt with for years felt lighter to me now. To name my little boy after my brother was too much for words. My forehead resting on the top of his shoulder as he continued to kneel at my side.
“Thank you, my love.”
Fireworks exploded over the water, lighting up the starry night, and adding the last magical touch.
“Fireworks?”
He smiled at me. “Surprise.”
Carlos sat on a chair, and settled me onto his lap.
“See the firework explosions? The flying sparks of fire shimmering into different colors and light?”
At my nod, he continued, and grabbed my hand to place it over his heart.
“Every time I look at you, every time I am near you, every time I touch you, that is what happens right here.”
65
Carlos
“Hey, I'm pregnant! I need more popcorn than you!”
Cari and Izzy were sitting on the couch watching television. Roman and I looked on from the kitchen.
We'd been back from our honeymoon now for a week. I'd surprised her with a trip to the Seychelles. I contemplated a long trip on Alma, but decided I’d play it safe, not wanting to remind her of that night. Eventually, we’d sail on Alma again, just not now.
We’d had an amazing time on a private island in the Seychelles. The purity of the ocean’s water and the overall crystal blue coloring was beautiful. We snorkeled, explored, and love each other.
We spent ten amazing days and nights there.
Roman and I laughed as Izzy put her hands in the air in surrender and handed Cari the popcorn.
“Babe, we’re going outside to smoke a cigar.”
Izzy waved Roman off and we went outside. They’d been staying at his place now for months but would soon be closing on their new home- right by me and Pop. Cari and I would be moving into our new home shortly.
“So you had a good honeymoon?”
We sat on his back patio, feet up, beer in hand, and smoking a slow cigar.
A habit we didn't indulge in often, but nevertheless enjoyed occasionally.
“Yea, bro. You need to take Izzy there. Freaking amazing. Quiet and relaxing.” I puffed on my cigar. “And there's nothing sexier or more beautiful than seeing your wife’s belly round with your baby.”
He looked at me. “Yea?”
My eyes met his. “The best feeling. Possessive shit man. If you think it's bad now, the need to protect her from everything, wait until she's carrying your baby. The feeling is like you're on steroids. It was quiet and calm, not many people around. We went to the main areas once or twice. A guy or two, though, looked her way, and fuck, did I understand Marco, bro.”
Roman laughed, exhaling smoke. “I think the Zambrano men all have it, but we mostly hide it. Marco always wore his on his sleeve unapologetically with Jenny.”
I nodded. “You're right. I see it with Pop and Mamá.”
Roman snorted. “Yea. There's a lot of Pop in Marco.”
“Another beer?”
I nodded at Roman. “I'll go with you.”
We went inside and both Izzy and Cari were crying.
“What the fuck? Caramelo, what’s wrong?”<
br />
Fuck, I ran over to her. My heart was in my throat. I looked over at Roman who was smirking. Izzy’s eyes were bright green from tears.
“What the hell is going on?”
Cari snuffed. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. We're just looking at Steel Magnolias.”
“What the fuck is that? A documentary?”
Roman began laughing but both women looked at me as of I were insane.
“A movie, baby.”
“Then why are you crying?”
Both of them said, “The ending.”
All I heard was Roman laughing in the background.
What the fuck was going on here? I felt like I was the only one who wasn't involved in the joke.
“So good, then, it's ending. I don't like seeing you upset.”
“No. We're just in the middle.”
The confusion was all over my face apparently, because my brother wouldn't stop chuckling.
“So the middle is sad, too?”
She shook her head, blowing her nose. “No, it's funny.”
I hung my head in defeat. Were these pregnancy hormones? I looked up at Izzy whose face was just as red, with eyes just as teary. Was she pregnant, too, then?
“If you're at the middle and it's funny, why are you both crying?”
My eyes snapped to Roman who was currently doubled over the kitchen peninsula in laughter.
“Because we know what's coming. It's a movie that makes you laugh and cry, and laugh and cry some more.”
“Jesus, why watch it?”
Roman turned around and left with two beers in his hands, his laughter obnoxiously and obscenely loud as he returned to the back patio.
Cari and Izzy both answered me in unison.
“Because it's the best freaking movie!”
“Is it like old?”
They looked at each other in incredulity.
“What did I say?”
I gave up. Whatever these women had caught, I wanted none of it.
Pure madness.
I left to find my brother who'd abandoned me.
“Bro, I thought you always had my back.”
He shook his head and took a long swig out of the bottle. “When it comes to that shit- women, hormones, and movies- you're on your own, bro.”
“Pussy.” Roman laughed. “What was that shit?”
“A freaking 80s movie, man. Makes her cry every time and she still watches it. When she does, I stay away.”
He looked as dumbfounded as I did.
“It's good to have bro time, you know?” He said, waving his cigar in the air. “Uncomplicated. Simple. Easy. No emotions. No chick flicks.”
I nodded at Roman.
Yea.
Bro-time was a must.
If only for maintaining sanity.
66
Persons Unknown
“Update.” His anger made his Russian accent more pronounced.
“Failed. Twice,” the Colombian responded in thickly accented English. He took a drag from the cigarette and let the smoke out dramatically to the side watching the red rise in the Russian’s face.
“This only works if he fucking does what he needs to do.”
The Colombian shrugged. “He let personal feelings interfere.” He pointed to his head with the cigarette between two fingers. “Messed with his head. Clouded the judgment.”
“Then you should have picked another,” the Italian growled.
The Colombian rolled his eyes. “Calm down, carajo,” he said, throwing the butt down and stomping on it. “He was perfect for it.”
“If he was perfect, he would've gotten the job done,” the Russian snapped.
“Two Zambrano bitches are gone. Now two more joined the family. Get. Rid. Of. Them. Begin with the women. The matriarch and these new whores. Kill them, take them, sell them, or torture them, I don't give a fuck. The men will be weakened with grief,” the Russian emphasized with a sardonic twist of his lips. “Pathetic.”
“Destroy their businesses. Destroy the relationships with other families. Destroy everything a Zambrano touches,” the Italian bit out.
“What about the phone? Did the plan work? Did the son take it?” The Russian looked at the time on his wrist.
“Yes. He took it,” the Colombian answered. “It wasn't on the men when we found their bodies. What he did with it, I do not know.”
“The two men on the inside? Zambrano killed them?”
The Colombian looked at the Russian and nodded his head.
“Fuck, your men are shit,” the Italian snarled.
The Colombian stood straighter and walked closer to the Italian. “You fucking got a problem with me, let's go.” His chest was two inches away from the Italian’s. “Put up or shut the fuck up. See if your fists can can live up to your mouth, hijo de puta.”
“Hvatit!” The Russian snapped, ordering him to stop the banter.
The Italian stared down the Colombian and then focused on the Russian. “You aren't the leader here. We are all on equal footing.”
“Except you two keep measuring your dicks to see who’s bigger. We will not be successful if you cannot stop fighting.”
“What about the other man we had on the inside?” The Italian asked, still glaring at the Colombian.
The Colombian answered. “Dead. They suspected him but the kidnappers killed him. Bastard was having a change of conscience. He was on the boat with the son.”
“The fed? Is he still in play?” The Italian asked.
The Russian shrugged. “Yes, but he’s a wildcard.”
“Get him in line again,” the Italian snapped. “He came through once.”
“Relax. It will go as planned. They'll implode. They'll tire of the older son’s inability to keep his anger in check. Twice now, he's erupted and gone on a killing spree,” the Russian smirked.
“Twice?”
The Russian nodded at the Italian. “When his wife was first murdered. The group of men on the dock. Killed all ten of them. Killed Pavel and his men not long ago. We’ll have to wait and see what the volatile son will do next.”
“Killed your own people. You ok with that?” The Colombian asked.
The Italian looked over to the Russian. “He's not that bright. This the only Colombian you had access to?”
The Colombian flew at the Italian. The Russian interceded.
“Dastatachna!”
A second Russian appeared and disengaged the the two. “We cannot fight one another, and win.”
“Nice of you to join,” the Italian said, straightening his suit.
“You're starting to annoy the shit out of me,” the new Russian said, accent much thicker than the first. “That's a bad idea.”
He waited until he had their attention.
“Marco will see the video. React again. Cause conflict within the family and against other families.”
“There's no guarantee that he will or that his family hadn't already destroyed the phone.”
The newcomer pursed his lips as if he was barely tolerating the Colombian’s stupidity.
“Help it along. Send a message. Write it in the sky with smoke. Do what you have to do.”
The new Russian waited until he had their attention.
“Once the Zambranos have been knocked down, have burned their reputation, and have no allies, once the mighty powers fall, we can move. More infighting will happen and there will be a power vacuum. New management can take over.” He paused. “What happens when the alphas fight and kill each other off?”
The second Russian looked at all of them in the eyes before answering his own question.
“The betas move up to become alphas.”
67
Carlos
“Is it safe to go back in?” I asked as Roman returned bringing us out more beer and chips.
“Finally fucking ended, thank God. They're currently balling their eyes out. Give it ten more minutes, and all should return to normal.”
“Your phone wa
s ringing, bro.”
He shrugged. “If it’s important, they'll call back. I've learned to divorce myself from the obnoxious little shit.”
Laughing, I chugged. This was our third beer. Life was calm and good.
This was peace.
The woman that I loved was my wife and pregnant with my baby, safely in the next room.
I was with my brother who had found the love of his life.
My family was safe.
This was the shit you couldn't buy.
Peace.
Love.
Happiness.
Orozco was still missing, and we were hunting- like a pack of mad, rabid wolves. Tomás, Emiliano, and I had more men looking for him than a police station with a BOLO out for a cop killer.
It didn’t matter what it would take, Cari and the baby would remain safe.
Roman’s phone rang again. He laughed and let it ring. Not even a second after it stopped ringing, mine rang. Roman and I looked at each other, and I answered the call.
“Yea?” It was Diego.
“Bro. What the fuck! Roman isn't answering his goddamned phone. Do you know where he is?”
I sat up, eyes on Roman.
“I'm with him at his house. I'll put you on speaker. What’s up, D?”
We heard the wails of sirens.
“What's going on? What's with the sirens?”
Roman stood. “Have you been arrested again?”
“No. Pop wanted me to call you both. The dock blew up.”
“How?”
“We don't fucking know, Los. The fire department is putting the fire out now and then they'll investigate.”
“We’ll head down there,” Roman said and I nodded. “We just have to leave security with Izzy and Cari.”
“There's more.”
We looked at each other. Roman spoke first.
“What?”
“Marco. He's MIA.”
“What do you fucking mean Marco is MIA?”
Roman grabbed his phone checking for messages. He shook his head at me.
Nothing.
“He's fucking gone. Pop said he brought Ari to visit with Mamá. He wanted to talk with Pop, and Marco said he'd wait in his office for him.”
Carlos: A Zambrano Family Novel Page 31