Twisted Dreams

by F J messina

  But that was not Gabriela’s purpose. She was there because she knew it was Santiago’s kind of place─cheap and sexy. She had never confessed to Sonia that she had physically threatened one of the young boys in the barrio in order to get him to tell her where Santiago had gone. When the boy had told her that Santiago had a female with him, she had pressed him to describe the woman. Unfortunately, after her most serious threats, she’d had to accept that the boy really didn’t know much. He’d told her Santiago was on his way to Miami Beach, and Gabriela knew she would have to go there herself if she wanted to learn anything further.

  Perched on her little balcony, Gabriela watched the room full of bodies sway, almost in unison, to the heavy thumping of the music. It took only a few minutes before a dark-haired, dark-eyed stud found his way next to her, a beer in each hand.

  He gave her a broad, tooth-filled smile. “Cerveza?”

  “Gracias.” She took the beer, giving him a small smile, then turned away from him, still surveying the room.

  “Busca a alguien?”

  Though her Spanish was more than fluent, Gabriela didn’t reply.

  “I said, are you looking for someone?”

  Gabriela nodded, “Yes,” never taking her eyes off the dance floor.

  His smile broadened, “Then maybe I can help you.”

  It was all for naught, as Gabriela never saw the smile, and didn’t respond to the statement. She could, however, sense his frustration building and feel him moving closer to her. Normally, she would have enjoyed playing this guy for the fool he was, but she had more important business to attend to. She turned, gave him a big warm smile, and lifted her beer in a toast. “Gracias, mi amigo.”

  Before he could stop her, Gabriela slid past him and off the balcony. She glided into the room, floating deftly between dancers. Before she got to the front door, however, her female intuition paid off. Walking through that door, laughing and jostling with his friends, was Santiago Gomez.

  Rather than walk directly up to him, Gabriela made a swift move to her left and stationed herself behind a pole, obscuring any view Santiago might have of her. The music thumped, the dancers bobbed, the heat and wetness pressed downward. Gabriela watched as Santiago made his way to the bar. The whole time, she searched the crowd for the face she really wanted to see.

  Gabriela waited for the next half hour, as Santiago and his friends drank and generally made fools of themselves, trying to pick up girls. Every few minutes some self-confident caballero would approach her, but years of dealing with her own attractiveness had given her a full repertoire of looks, many of which were easily understood to mean, “Don’t bother.”

  Finally, when she was convinced that Mariana was not going to be joining him, Gabriela began making her way over to Santiago. The music flowed from one song to another. In moments, Gabriela was standing directly behind him.

  She leaned in. “Buenas niches, mi amigo,” she whispered into his ear, the heat of her breath startling him.

  He turned around, shock on his face. “Gabriela. Que demonios. What are you doing here?”

  Her lip curled as she spoke. “I think you know pendejo. I’m looking for my cousin. Now, let’s say we get out of here so we can talk and hear each other.”

  Santiago stepped back as much as he could on the cramped dance floor, waving his arms in front of his body. “No way. Get away from me, bitch. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  Gabriela looked at him inquisitively, pure confidence. She reached up, put her left hand behind his neck, and pulled his head down as if to kiss his ear. At the same time, her right hand grabbed his left and pulled it suggestively toward her most private parts. Just before it reached exactly what he hoped it might, she pulled it just a little to the right. She whispered in his ear again. “Do you know what that is in my pocket?”

  Santiago’s eyes were open wide as he pulled his hand away from hers and tried to back away.

  But Gabriela simultaneously kept her grip on his neck and slipped her right hand into her pocket. “Diamondback, nine-millimeter. Locked and loaded and ready to blow your balls from here to kingdom come.” Letting go of him, she nodded at the door. “Let’s go.”

  When Santiago started walking toward the exit, one of his friends began following. Gabriela turned around, pulled just enough of the gun out of her pocket for the friend to recognize what it was, then wagged her finger at him and gave him a rich, warm, threatening smile. It appeared he had gotten the message because he stopped and simply watched as Gabriela and Santiago left the club.

  Out on the street, her eyes searching the surrounding area, Gabriela nudged Santiago, moving him to the left. Within a few moments, they were standing behind a bench at a municipal bus stop. She spoke softly into his ear from behind him. “Why don’t we sit here and talk mi amigo?”

  Santiago looked around, possibly hoping for some help. None appeared. Eventually, he walked around the bench and took a seat. Gabriela stood closely behind him. She leaned over him, assuming that if anyone were watching them, it would seem like they were lovers, involved in an intimate and playful conversation.

  She ran her fingers through his black, almost-shoulder-length, hair. “Now, hijo de puta. What have you done with my cousin?”

  Santiago tried to turn his head around so that he might answer her, but Gabriela used her hands and her body weight to keep his head facing forward. He spoke, as if to the street. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Your cousin? You mean Mariana?”

  Gabriela slipped the handgun out of her pocket and pressed it against the back of his head, her moves hidden from view by her body as she leaned over him. “Of course I mean Mariana. She’s missing, and she went missing the very day you left Lexington.” She rocked the gun back and forth against his head. “The very day you left Lexington with a woman.”

  “Effie? You mean when I left town with Effie?”

  Gabriela pressed the barrel of the handgun harder into his head. Her voice strengthened. “No. Mariana. You left town with Mariana, and now no one knows where she is.”

  “Dios mío. I’m telling you it was Effie.” His voice was almost panicked, pleading. He spoke quickly. “Effie came with me. She just wanted a ride to Florida. She has a cousin down here too. She just wanted a ride. I swear it.”

  Gabriela paused. “Take out your phone.” Her voice was calm, controlled.

  “What? Why?” His body squirmed. His voice was shaky.

  “Just take it out.” Santiago did what he was told. “Now, call Effie. Call her right now.”

  Santiago dialed the number, and within a few moments, Gabriela could hear a tiny voice coming from his phone. She stretched her hand out over his shoulder. “Give me the phone.” His hand was shaking as he passed it to her.

  “Effie?” Her voice sounded strangely upbeat. “Buenas noches. Cómo estás?” There was a pause as Effie answered. Gabriela continued. “Sí, this is Gabriela, Mariana’s cousin. I’m here in Miami.” She looked down at Santiago, squinting her eyes. “Sí, I’m having fun with Santiago. He said maybe we should get together tonight. Dónde estás?” There was another pause. “Where? Oh, I bet Santiago knows where that is. Listen, we’ll call you back in a few minutes. We’ll try to get together for some drinks. Okay?”

  Gabriela hung up the phone. “Okay, so Effie is down here.” There was a touch of disappointment in her voice. She gave the phone back to Santiago. “And you know nothing about where Mariana is?”

  “No, no.”

  “When was the last time you saw her?” She was leaning down, almost whispering into the top of his head.”

  “I don’t know.” He tossed the answer. “Been weeks, easy.”

  Her voice tightened. “And when I get back to Lexington, I’m not going to find out you’ve done something to her?”

  It seemed to Gabriela that Santiago was starting to feel more confident. It showed in his voice, in his answer. “No bitch. I don’t know where she is and I don’t care.”

 
Gabriela paused again, looking up and down the street. It may have seemed to Santiago that she was becoming confused. Then the crack of the gun’s butt, hard against his head, sent a lightning bolt of pain through his brain.

  “Gracias, amigo. You’ve been very helpful. I hope you enjoy the rest of your vacaciones.”

  Santiago bent over, grabbing the back of his head, the hot blood slipping through his fingers. “Puta. Pérra. You hurt me, you bitch.” He jumped up off the bench and turned on her.

  She was gone.

  43

  After learning from Gabriela that Santiago was no longer a viable suspect, Sonia and Jet had spent Monday through Thursday beginning the task of re-interviewing everyone they had spoken to about Mariana─this time face to face. It was slow going.

  One of the few things they accomplished in those four days was wrapping up the case of Mr. Afternoon Delight. A brief meeting with his hard-working wife had ended with her indication that she would be heading directly to her lawyer. All of it brought little joy to Sonia.

  Right after that meeting, Jet had dragged Sonia downstairs to Magee’s. There, Jet had convinced Sonia that the time had come to quit stalling. She needed to talk to Brad, put things to bed, and she needed to do it as soon as possible. Jet had sat at the table, listening, as Sonia made a phone call setting up a meeting with Brad for that evening at eight o’clock.

  Sonia had made arrangements to meet Brad in the bar at the downtown Hilton, The Bigg Blue Martini. She knew it wouldn’t be crammed with folks and noisy, yet she didn’t want any setting too intimate. This was going to be her last conversation with Brad─period.

  Sonia walked into the bar at precisely eight o’clock. She was wearing black pants that hugged her body and a white wrap-around blouse that showed off her feminine attributes. She had put in the time to make sure her hair and make-up were perfect. She checked a mirror as she passed it. This may be my last evening with him, but darn it, I’m certainly going to give him something to remember.

  Brad was, of course, waiting for her when she got there. The room was dim and chilly. In fact, he was the only patron in the place.

  Brad was seated at a table in the corner with two glasses of wine already on hand. Sonia came in and walked directly to him. He stood as she took her seat. “I hope you don’t mind. I ordered you some red wine. I know you enjoy it.”

  “I’d rather bourbon on the rocks, please. Basil Hayden.”

  She could see that Brad was a little taken aback, just as she had hoped he would be. He called the server over and asked her to bring Sonia the bourbon she had requested.

  “You’re looking lovely this evening.” The bright blue of his eyes seemed somehow diminished.

  “Thank you.” Her answer was more curt than pleasant.

  He made a feeble attempt at an upbeat sound to his voice. “Everything okay with you?”

  “Fine. Everything’s just fine.” Still curt.

  Brad fiddled with his wine, a drink Sonia knew was not his preference. “So, thank you for agreeing to meet with me tonight.”

  Just then, the server appeared with Sonia’s bourbon. “Thank you, Miss.” Then nothing.

  Brad tried again. “I know this is difficult for you, for both of us, but I think─”

  She stepped right in, her voice level, but with no indication of a willingness to negotiate. “Listen, Brad. Let’s not play around like this is some sort of date or cordial meeting. I’m here for one reason and one reason only.” She stopped, making him ask.

  “And that is?”

  Her words were strong, clear, to the point. “To tell you why we’re over, why I never want to see you again.”

  Brad took a deep breath. “Would you mind if I tell you?”

  Sonia rocked back. “Tell me what?”

  “Tell you why you don’t want to see me anymore.” There was an urgency in his voice.

  Sonia brushed that wisp of hair out of her face. What the hell is this all about? This bastard is not going to turn this around on me. No, he is not.

  Before she could answer, Brad spoke. “It’s because I’m still married.”

  Sonia was stopped cold. She had rehearsed and rehearsed every possible way she could say those words. She’d kept changing her mind, but she was determined to say the words, “You’re married,” in such a way that he would wither right in front of her. Figlio de puta. Now he’d gone and stolen that moment. She was livid, but she was silent.

  “I know. I know you heard and I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry.” His voice, his whole demeanor, was contrite.

  Sonia exploded, shouting at him in just barely audible tones. “You son-of-a-bitch. Yeah, I found out. I found out the man I loved, the man who let me think he loved me, was married. And how do you think that made me feel. Come uno scemo. Like a fool! I thought I could never trust a man again. But no, no, you had to come along and sweep me off my feet. You had to save my life, twice, then look at me with what I thought was love in your eyes. And the whole time, the whole damn time, you had your little wifey stashed away somewhere near Baltimore, or some damn place like that.”

  Sonia leaned forward, venom in her eyes and her voice. “And I’m done with you, you bastard, done with you.” With that, she waved her arm in a grand gesture. Unfortunately, the sweep of her arm managed to catch both glasses of wine, knocking them over onto the table, red liquid pouring down into their laps and onto the floor.

  The server was quick to hop to their rescue, showing up with a couple of bar towels, but the damage was done. Sonia looked down at her pants and white shirt, now soaked with large swirls of red wine. “Damn it. Damn it.” She stood up.

  Her eyes burned at Brad. She could tell he was stunned. Sitting there in a pool of red wine, he was still speechless. It wasn’t until she turned and started to walk away that he jumped up.

  “Sonia. Sonia, wait. Let me explain. At least let me explain.”

  Sonia’s eyes shot over to the server, who was mortified. Caught in the middle of this scene, it was obvious all she wanted to do was wipe up the wine while at the same time remaining totally invisible. It wasn’t working.

  Brad looked at the server as well. “I’m sorry. So sorry. I’ll pay for anything I need to. Just . . . I’m sorry.”

  Sonia stood still, seething.

  “Please, babe. Come over here.” He pointed at a table a few feet away, further from the door. “Let’s sit here at this table. Please, just give me one minute to explain, to tell you what happened.”

  Sonia looked at the server, lost. She was shocked when the server, eyes downward, wiping and wiping the table, whispered, “Give him a chance honey. He’s too darn good-looking to throw back until you see if he can get the hook out of his mouth.”

  Emotionally off balance, Sonia followed Brad to the other table, not saying a word.

  When they were settled, Brad reached for Sonia’s hand, but she pulled it back. He started. “Sonia. I know this is difficult to hear, but please, please let me tell you the story, the whole story. Then, if you want us to be done, so shall it be. I promise you, just let me say what I want to say and then it will all be up to you.”

  Sonia sat, motionless.

  44

  Sonia listened as Brad began. “Sonia, you know the story of my folks, and of the woman I was in love with when I was with NCIS.”

  She just stared at him, expressionless. Here it comes. The same old sob story. I’ve heard this all before, damn it. It’s not going to fly again.

  “And I know you’ve accepted how all that changed me, especially when the woman I loved was killed right before my eyes.”

  One simple blink of her eyes. Her toe tapping. Yeah, yeah.

  “What you don’t know was how broken I was afterward. I can’t even describe to you how lost I was, how empty I felt.”

  Her face screwed tighter, her eyebrows pulling together. Just like me right now, you creep.

  “You see, when I was lost like that, and alone . . . well . . . this other woman I wor
ked with, she came alongside me. She comforted me.”

  Sonia twisted her lips. Oh, and I bet you took advantage of every move she made, poor thing. I bet you sucked her dry, didn’t you?

  Brad was clearly waiting for responses, but he was getting none. He went on. “So, after a while, it just started feeling comfortable, you know, spending time with her, neither of us talking much. And I wasn’t . . . well . . . I wasn’t really fully in control of how I was feeling. It was just like I was bobbing along on some ocean, just going where the tide was taking me.”

  Under the table, her hands were clenching and unclenching, while above the table she was motionless. She stared at him. Yeah, and taking her along for the ride, I bet. Dragging her right in, weren’t you?

  “Then, after a while, I guess you could say we were dating, or more like just being together. Next thing you know, I was asking her to marry me.”

  She took a tight, small breath. Oh, I don’t doubt it. Poor, poor me, I was so lonely I can’t be held accountable for my actions.

  “And she said, ‘Yes.’ So, we ran off to a Justice of the Peace and got married. No fanfare, no big deal, just a quiet city hall wedding. And then there we were, married, living together, looking like everything was alright . . . . But it wasn’t.”

  Sonia sat up taller, the heat of anger growing inside her─anger at what he had done to that woman─anger at what he had done to her. What? She wasn’t able to give you everything you wanted, including the freedom to be with other women? Is that it? Did she want you to actually be loyal to her, you bastard? Sonia knew Brad was waiting for a response, but she hadn’t said a single word since he’d begun. She didn’t see any reason to start.

  Brad ran his hand over his short, brown hair. “In fact, it didn’t take long for her to know it. She knew it before me. Later, she said that she’d been in love with me, but she knew I’d never really been in love with her.”

  Sonia realized she was so angry she was barely breathing. Oh, poor baby. The woman’s love for you wasn’t enough?