by Weber, Carl
“No. And they kissed. He did not see us. He only wanted her.”
“What do you want us to do now?” China pouted.
I turned to my assistant, who had been quietly listening to the exchange. “Pay them.” I looked over the balcony down at Niles, who had his hands around Paris, hugging her as if she were some precious thing instead of one more ho to add to his scorecard. What was it he saw in her? She seemed like American trash to me. I picked up my phone and called the one person that could help me.
“I need a job for our security guy. He’s getting distracted and that can become a problem. It needs to be as far away from here as possible. Yes. Immediately. Tehran, Jordan, Mozambique, Antarctica for all I care. I don’t give a shit as long as it isn’t in Spain.” I hung up the phone. If I couldn’t get rid of her then I’d do the next best thing and separate the two. By the time he got back home memories of the rude American would be long gone.
I stole another look at Paris Wimberly. Less than a week ago Niles had never even heard of her. Neither had any of the people I’d put on her case. Who exactly was this woman and what did she want with Niles? She had no idea who she was dealing with or the lengths I would go to eviscerate her. Whatever game she was playing, Miss Wimberly was about to find out that she was way out of her league. From the balcony I trailed my assistant to the bar, a little surprised that things had suddenly gotten a whole lot more interesting.
Rio
42
“I ordered breakfast,” my host informed me as I emerged from the shower. I had to admit that other than this gig he had proven to be my best surprise.
“I’m starving,” I responded.
“Yeah, you should be.” He laughed, stepping over to the living room area of his suite where he had them set up the food. “I took the liberty of ordering you an American breakfast.” I opened the various serving dishes to find all my favorites. Course, none of them could touch Mom’s cooking but it might be awhile until I had a real home-cooked meal, Chippy style. Oh, well. I pulled the plate of pancakes close, grabbed some bacon, thrilled I was one brother who stayed on the swine. I dove in, forgetting all my home training.
“Sorry, I haven’t eaten anything since lunch yesterday.”
“Well, if that’s what it took for last night to be such a hit.”
“It’s not just me?”
“I’d get on a plane anytime if the club is throwing down like that. You must be so proud of yourself,” he said, and I nodded ’cause a brother had overproduced. The receipts were so flush, which made DJ PLUS 1NE pay for himself. He had a real international audience. One tweet and all of Europe landed in private jets, ordered Dom and Cristal by the case. Eduardo all but apologized and tried to lock me down to a contract at the end of the night. All I wanted was to bask in the glow of my first real success. Hooking up with my host made it sweeter.
“So you didn’t tell me much about yourself last night. Except that you came to visit your sister? Does she live here?”
“My twin,” I said. Usually people got all touched when I revealed I was a twin. Wanted to know if we had psychic abilities and twin intuition, which we damn sure did. “No. She’s in school in Europe so it made sense.”
“Are you two alike?” he asked just like I expected.
“Yes and no. We both like to have a good time, love to shop and laugh, but she’s a hell of a lot tougher. I’d rather negotiate.” I laughed, thinking that was the reason LC wanted me to become a lawyer. From an early age, I used my brains to get out of things while sis would kick ass and ask questions later. “And what brings you to Valencia?” I asked him.
“Vacation. Getting far away from people.”
“So you can do you? The gay you?” I couldn’t help ask. I’d always met so many foreigners who came to America on a gay holiday because back at home they had a girlfriend, fiancée, or wife.
“Is it that obvious?” he asked, looking guilty.
“Hey, a week ago that would have been me.”
“Serious?”
“Yeah, and let’s just say that when I came out the non-reception made me jump on a plane.”
“So your parents are traditional too.”
“Oh, the D . . . Wimberlys have their moments. They’re traditional when it comes to certain things.”
“Like their son’s sexuality.”
“Exactly! But that hiding it ride is over.”
“How did you bring yourself to do it? To tell your family that you were gay? Did they insist you get married?”
“No. There is no pressure to head down the aisle in my family. But my dad is ol’ school, which means no son of his is going to be gay.”
“Are you the only son?”
“Naah, I got three older brothers, which you’d think would let him lean up off me; but, no, we all got to be straight. My dad is from the hood in Queens and he can’t tell his important political connections that he’s got a fag in the family. Not LC.”
“Lacey?”
“No, LC, my dad’s initials. Everybody calls him LC.”
“Does the L stand for a city?”
“Nah, although all my siblings except my brother, Junior, are named after cities. Shit, we’re so busy talking about me I barely know anything about you.”
“I’m from Armenia, the middle of four kids, two older sisters and a younger brother. My parents basically arranged my marriage in the womb.”
“I didn’t think people still did that.”
“Oh, yes, they do.”
“What are you going to do when you actually have to sleep with your wife?”
“I’m going to think about you.” And that’s when I felt myself stop hating my father. For better or worse I’d never be expected to marry some woman against my will, and even though that didn’t change anything, it was a start.
After breakfast, I gathered my things and was about to run, even though it was only three flights up when Navid stopped me.
“Rio, I wish I were brave like you.”
“You can be. There are a whole lot of other countries that you can move to,” I joked, which helped lighten the mood. Brother started feeling really good about life. New job, new freedom, and lots of available dick. How could it get any better? I thought as I stepped on the elevator.
Nadja
43
“Tell me everything. And leave nothing out!” I barked at Navid as he entered my suite after pulling a very necessary all-nighter.
“Everything?” he raised his eyebrows in jest.
“Pertaining to information about that tramp!” I said as he walked past me and sat down at my computer.
“He and Paris are twins.”
“That should be easy.”
“Get this. All of his siblings except one are named after cities.”
“Oh, how horribly ghetto.” I sighed.
“Except I don’t think that they are. He mentioned that his father has lots of political connections in Queens.” Navid’s hands were already working the keyboard of my laptop.
“Anything else?”
“That Paris attends school in Europe.”
“Yeah, one of those Swiss killer training places.”
“Those really exist? I thought that was urban legend.”
“Our last security consultant was a graduate.”
He raised his hand in a quiet motion. Normally I’d have his ass for that sign of disrespect, but accessing this information was way more important than catering to my ego.
“Oh, they are wealthy and very well connected.” He turned the computer to face me. LC Duncan was the CEO of Duncan Motors Imports and an extremely powerful man. Named one of the top campaign contributors of the year. Father of six: Junior, Vegas, Orlando, London, Rio, and Paris. I did a quick Google search for Paris Duncan images and there she was at the Met Ball, Mayor’s Ball, the white party in the Hamptons, her cotillion at the Waldorf Astoria, and along with various celebrity socialites. There were a few I recognized and even some I knew personally. Th
ey were the children of people that worked with my father. Very important associates as he liked to refer to them. Damn! This was not good.
“Why is she using an alias?” I said out loud.
“Maybe they’re running from something? Hiding out?” Navid, ever the conspiracy theorist, asked.
I grabbed my phone and dialed a number. “Papa, hello.”
“Daughter, it is a father’s greatest wish to see his daughters married.” He started in immediately on his favorite subject.
“But I am considering the men Mother so generously introduced to me,” I lied.
“Good. Every day you grow more like rotten fruit when it comes to getting a suitable husband. You are giving me no choice but to become less choosy.”
“Yes, Papa. Can we talk about that another time?”
“It is always another time for you. What is it?” My father sounded annoyed.
“You have dealings in America, and I wondered if you had ever heard of a gentleman: LC Duncan?”
“LC, why yes. As a matter of fact we are in the process of completing a very lucrative deal with Mr. Duncan. One that I hope will continue for years to come.”
“But what if something goes wrong?”
“What are you talking about, Nadja? The Duncans are a very powerful family and whoever they do business with comes under their protection. It is in our best interest to make sure this deal goes through.”
“But, Papa, are you sure? What do you really know about them?”
“Enough! Nothing will stand in the way of this transaction being completed. Understand?”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Good. You just worry about choosing your husband.”
I hung up the phone, my father’s wrath now ringing in my ear.
“What?” Navid caught the look on my face. “You’re scaring me.”
“Then imagine what fate I have in store for Paris Duncan.”
Niles
44
After hastily toweling off, then donning a white tee, khaki shorts, and some sandals, I told Paris I’d be back. When she refused to answer from behind the locked bathroom door, I left her. I knew that meeting Nadja would not go over well with her but this was work. She would just have to get over it.
When she saw me, Nadja stood up from her wingback chair in the lobby where she’d been wrapped up in her iPhone. Her slender shape looked even tinier in the black Adidas gear she favored. We kissed on both cheeks, as was our custom these days.
“You look well . . . as always,” she remarked. “Can’t believe you got any rest.”
“C’mon. Let’s walk. Outside.” I was never comfortable talking real business indoors.
We went poolside, leaning over the wall as if admiring the Mediterranean below. A palm tree shaded us from the prying eyes of others.
“Your ID and passports are done.”
“Thanks, but what about Paris? I need you to get hers too.”
“After the damage she did to that last job? I don’t want you going near her!” she barked at me; her concern sounded like it had a real basis but I didn’t care. I could handle things.
“You don’t have to worry about Paris. We’re just having a good time. She’s not going to get in the way of my work again,” I assured her.
“But you fancy her,” Nadja answered for me as she jabbed her slender finger against my temple. Her fingernail dug into my skin, making me blink. “Damn, Niles. What is it with you? Because she’s a fellow American? You’ve been away from the States for a very long time, chum. No, wait. I got it. You feel some connection with her because of some shared ‘black experience.’ Is that what’s going on here? Something soulful? You found yourself a soul mate, mate?”
“Ease up on the mouth, Nadja. You’re about to cross a line we won’t come back from. Are you jealous?”
“As much as you’d love it, jealousy is not what this is. Our past is just that. I’m just saying how can you trust her? I don’t believe in coincidences. And for someone with her kind of skills to suddenly show up . . .”
“Relax. She ain’t here to off me, Nadja. I’m sure of it. She’s a student at one of those kill mills for the rich. She was at my hotel on vacation. Almost got herself raped at a yacht party until I stepped in. If she’s professional, sure could’ve fooled me.”
“A yacht? Humph! I know you like the long-distance kills... or with those bloody karambit knives of yours, but you can stage a mean suicide. Tell me you had nothing to do with the Villaragosa overdoses. Just tell me that. Their father can be an evil bastard.”
“Had to. When I broke up their little video session with Paris, we were out to sea on their boat. Couldn’t have them creating a scene after I fucked ’em up. Especially when I had the De Banderas hit to do. Put them away nice. And got off the boat with Paris.”
“Does she know what you did to the Villaragosa brothers?”
“Uh . . . she didn’t at the time.”
“Damn, Niles,” she cursed. “Very sloppy. How many unnecessary bodies this time? Ten? Twenty? And to top it off, your friend up in the room knows all about it? I don’t need that kind of attention.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“You need to ditch her permanently,” Nadja said in parting as she began walking away.
“I trust her.”
“Then you better make damn sure you can trust her, because if you’re wrong it might not just be your life she takes, but mine too.” She turned back toward the exit.
“Wait,” I called out.
“What, Niles? You want a quickie or something? For old time’s sake?” she said, batting those eyelashes teasingly. Good taunt as she vowed to never let me get so much as a whiff of her pussy again.
“No,” I replied, not letting her rile me. “But I might need something else though.”
“Such as?”
“An ID . . . for Paris. Just in case we need it.”
“We? You are not talking about taking that girl with you any further. I forbid it. Totally unacceptable, Niles. Her tagalong ends here!”
“Just see what you can do,” I said. I wasn’t sure where this thing with Paris was going but it was not going to end today. Shit, just thinking about that girl made me want to hurt somebody. Her.
Paris
45
“Lovers’ spat over?” I asked as Niles entered the room.
“Get your stuff. We need to go somewhere,” he said, gathering some things.
I was in store for a quick cab ride to the other end of the town. No romantic vibes this time; and the driver definitely was not a gentleman, hurriedly driving through stops signs without an ounce of conversation. Maybe he just didn’t know much English.
“Where are we going?” I asked Niles, deciding on small talk as we wound through the twisting streets.
“Shhh,” he said, daring to rest his hand on my knee. No, this nigga didn’t just shush me. Almost smarted off, but then I recognized this face from before.
Niles was on a job.
Our journey ended on the west end of Playa de Palma, a less-opulent accommodation than our hotel. It was some high-rise hotel for vacationers on limited budgets, no doubt.
When he got out, I got out. The cabbie didn’t even ask for payment before speeding off.
“He’ll be back later,” Niles commented from behind his black Ray-Bans, anticipating my question. “C’mon,” he muttered, looking around the area before crossing to the beachside of the street.
“Hola, Señor Tomas!” the man at the front desk gushed when he saw us. I almost looked over my shoulder to see who he was referring to before realizing he was smiling at us. Unless Niles had been here before—and I doubted it—something Niles was wearing must’ve tipped him off.
“I need to see my locker,” Niles calmly stated as he high-fived the man with greasy hair who smelled of cheap cologne and cigarettes. His eyes said he found me attractive and wanted to say something lurid, but knew better with Niles around.
Responding
, the man stepped aside and motioned for us to step behind the counter and down a short hallway directly behind him. At the end to the right lay a doorway with only a burgundy curtain blocking it. Niles entered first with me wanting to stand guard for fear of being trapped or caught in a double cross. As Niles kept walking toward a row of expensive, fortified lockers that didn’t match their surroundings, I hesitated.
“It’s the only way out. Good girl,” Niles commented with an approving smile. At the front counter, the man had stepped back in place going about his regular duties. I stayed put, splitting my attention between him and Niles, who was matching a key he produced to the correct locker. With a swift click, Niles retrieved a briefcase and an envelope from the locker and left the key in place. But not before wiping his fingerprints from it.
“All okay, Señor Tomas?”
“Sí,” Niles said, slipping him a few Euros. I kept pace, following behind Niles as we entered the hotel’s lobby. But rather than leaving this shitty-ass place, Niles turned and headed toward the elevators.
“What the fuck?” I let escape my lips before blindly following.
On the ninth floor, we entered a unit using an old-fashioned key in the lock. Place reeked of cigars and disinfectant and I was afraid to even touch the bedspread. Felt like somebody packed up a slice of Jersey and moved it to Spain. Niles set the briefcase on the desk and opened his envelope instead. Inside was another passport along with an Italian driver license and other papers. “Close those blinds, would you?” he asked of me.
When I complied, he opened the briefcase. A disassembled rifle lay inside, each piece safely cradled in protective foam casing.
“Here?” I asked.
“Yep,” he answered.
“No Pakistani dude gonna double-cross you this time, huh? ’Cause I don’t want to have to rescue your ass again.”
“Nah. This one’s pretty straightforward.”
“That Nadja bitch trying to overwork you?”
“Actually I found this job myself,” he said as he finished assembling what looked to be a modified Austrian Steyr-Mannlicher.