Plata

by Ivy Mason

  Madison opened her eyes and looked up at the ceiling, which glowed with a dim, golden light, as if they were in church. She didn’t care if she’d regret it. It had to be said.

  “I need money,” she blurted out. “A lot of money. And fast.”

  Ramon rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “A woman like you with money problems. Give me fucking break.”

  Madison’s champagne arrived. As the waiter placed it daintily on the coffee table before her, Ramon grabbed his wrist. The waiter startled and nearly knocked over the flute.

  “Just bring the bottle,” he barked. The waiter hurried away again.

  Madison shook her head. “You don’t have to be such a jerk to him,” she said.

  Ramon laughed. “Who are you, Mother Teresa? It’s his fucking job!”

  She picked up her glass and took a long drink. The bubbles tickled her nose, and left her lightheaded. She watched The Colombian cozy up to a skinny young brunette who had only just arrived at the club from Spain. He nuzzled her shoulder with his wide, pock-marked face and put his hand on her thigh.

  “So, you want to make some money?” Ramon said, swigging back the last of his beer.

  Madison wanted to back pedal before she got herself into trouble. But a fatalism had settled into her, and all she could do was shrug.

  “I’m serious,” he said, shifting closer and lowering his voice. “It would really help me out. Someone just bailed on me and I need a replacement.”

  Madison had always been an eminently sensible girl, and her brain geared up to turn Ramon down. Whatever it was that he wanted to do would be a big mistake. And so she surprised even herself when, instead of saying ‘no,’ what came out was, “How much does it pay?”

  For once, Ramon looked squarely at her. “Two hundred thousand.”

  Madison stared at him. The bass of the music pounded in her head and her heart hammered violently inside her. She was sure she’d misunderstood him.

  “How much?”

  “Two hundred grand,” he repeated, looking away.

  “Pesos?” Madison asked.

  “No, blondie,” he moaned with exasperation. “Dollars. U.S. dollars.”

  Madison bit her lip, the wheels spinning in her head. She knew that two hundred grand was nothing to Ramon. She’d heard him talk about putting six hundred grand down on a roulette table in Vegas once and losing it all in a matter of seconds. He’d thought it was hilarious.

  It was more than enough money to keep the restaurant open. She could go home right away; enroll in school for next semester. Maybe even convince Pierre to visit her there. And that would be the end of it. She could close the final page on this surreal chapter in her life. But then she forced herself to come back to Earth. Whatever he wanted her to do might get her imprisoned or killed.

  “What would I have to do?”

  Ramon fished inside his jacket to retrieve a pack of cigarettes. He tapped one free and slipped it between his lips, then dug a lighter out of the back pocket of his jeans. He cocked his head to one side and lit the cigarette, pulling hard on it.

  “It’s not a big deal,” he said, squinting through the smoke. “Just go with me to a party.”

  “What kind of party?”

  He shrugged. “A nice one. Catered food. Champagne. All that shit you like.” He picked a spec of lint from his jacket and looked at her. “Pretty good deal, huh?”

  “Then why would you pay so much?” she asked nervously. “If it’s such an easy job?”

  “It’s not a job,” Ramon said. “It’s a favor. And since you have to miss a night of work to go with me, I’ll compensate you. With interest, obviously.”

  “What do I have to do, exactly?” she asked hesitantly.

  He shrugged again. “Hang out with me. Look pretty. That’s what chicks like you do best, right?”

  “Just that one thing? Go to a party?”

  “Just that one thing.”

  “When is it?” she asked.

  “Tomorrow night.”

  Madison nodded. That was good. The sooner she got paid, the sooner she could get home.

  “When will you pay me?”

  “Half up front,” he said slicing his fingers in the air, “and half when the night is over.”

  Madison looked at him carefully, wishing he were easier to read. “And that’s it? Just a date to the party and then home?”

  He smirked. “You mean, no sex?”

  She wanted to be sure this point was clear. “I’m not a hooker.”

  Ramon laughed. “No shit.” He took a last drag from his cigarette and dropped it into his beer bottle. “Just a date to the party. And then home.” He held out his hand, as if she were just a business associate. “Do we have a deal?”

  Madison was afraid to overthink it. Of course it was reckless. But it would be the last crazy thing she’d have to do. She took his hand and shook it.

  “Deal.”

  Ramon nodded quickly and dropped back against the cushions. “You just saved my ass, girl,” he muttered under his breath. “You just saved my ass.”

  Right away, Madison headed upstairs to change her clothes. After all, there was no reason to stay at the club another minute. She threw her dresses and stilettos into a bag, and closed her locker for what she hoped was the last time. It was not even nine o’clock when she pushed open the door, not bothering to wait for a security escort. Unlike the late hour when she usually left work, the pedestrian street was filled with people. The nightlife was just getting underway. Restaurants and bars were full, and a jazz trio had set up nearby, busking for tips. It was a lively scene, and Madison began to feel a little better. No matter what happened with Ramon, she’d been brave enough to take the reins of her life. She didn’t have to take her clothes off for money again.

  Unsteady from the vodka and champagne, Madison headed to the corner where the drivers were gathered. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a man came up behind her and took hold of her arm. She gasped and spun around, losing her balance. It was the tall man in sunglasses who stalked her at the club every night. She hadn’t even thought to look for him that night. He caught her and got her back on her feet.

  “Come with me, please,” he said officiously in English. He had a strange accent that Madison couldn’t place.

  “I’ll scream!” she growled, trying to pull her arm away. But his grip was too strong.

  “Don’t be alarmed.” He was trying hard to sound friendly.“No one is going to hurt you, Madison.”

  He guided her to the corner and across the street to where a town car was waiting. The windows were darkly tinted, making it impossible to see inside. The man opened the back door and gestured for her to get in. She resisted at first. Then a figure leaned across the seat and looked out at her. It was Pierre. She blinked at him, baffled.

  “Madison.” His voice was gentle and low. “Let us give you a ride home.”

  “What…what is this?” she stammered. “Who is this guy?”

  “He’s one of my bodyguards,” Pierre said matter-of-factly. “Please don’t stand in the street. Come inside.”

  Madison sighed and climbed into the car. She could smell the faint musk of Pierre’s cologne, and it made her forget that she was angry. It was him. He was here. The door shut immediately behind her. After a moment, they began to move. Pierre’s features looked all the more chiseled and striking in the intermittent lights from the street. He was wearing a gray suit again, and she had an overwhelming urge to run her fingers over the fabric. It was almost as if a magnetic force were physically pulling her toward him.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice softer now.

  But Pierre didn’t seem to hear her. He was scanning her face, as if searching for something.

  “Who is that guy?” she asked, gesturing at the closed door. “He’s been stalking me at the club every night.”

  Pierre smiled a little and looked down. “I am sorry about that. It was not my intention to frighten you.”
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  “Does he work for you?” she asked, a little impatient.

  “Adam is one of my bodyguards.”

  Madison wasn’t surprised. Kidnappings and crime were so prevalent, almost every member of the club took bodyguards with them wherever they went. Men in suits and dark glasses lined the walls of the dining room every night, always watching. But she would’ve never imagined that he’d send someone to protect her. Pierre sighed and took one of her hands into his. They were warm and rough; hands that still remembered the day’s physical labor and street fights.

  “I like you, Madison,” he said firmly.“A lot. And when I like someone a lot, I want to know they are safe.”

  “So you sent him to look after me.”

  “Yes,” he said, a hint of doubt in his voice. “Did he?”

  “Did he look after me?”

  Pierre waited expectantly. She could see the worry in his eyes. For a moment, she didn’t know what to say or where to begin. Pierre cleared his throat.

  “Adam saw you at the club last night, when we were supposed to be together at dinner. He said it looked like you were crying and you were bleeding here.” He gently tipped up her chin to study the fresh scab there. Pierre frowned. “What happened? Why were you not at the restaurant?”

  Madison felt a chill creep through her remembering the whole terrible scene. Her hands began to shake again, and she felt tears burning in her eyes. But she fought them back and took a deep breath.

  “The taxi I took to meet you…went somewhere else,” she said. She could see Pierre tense immediately, and his expression darkened. “There was another guy. They took my purse, my phone.”

  Pierre buried his face in his hands. “Why did you not let me send a car?” he muttered, anguish in his voice.

  She didn’t know what to say, so she looked through the smoky glass at the stream of food vendors and late night shops, their bare bulb lights glowing in the darkness.

  “How did you get cut?” he asked breathlessly.

  “One guy had a knife.”

  Pierre tenderly touched her chin and went silent for a moment. Then he cleared his throat.

  “He didn’t… They didn’t…?” He couldn’t say the rest.

  “No,” she mumbled. “They tried, but they didn’t. I got away.”

  “How?”

  She didn’t know how much to reveal; whether or not to tell him about Ramon. Something in her gut told her it was a bad idea. If Pierre got involved, things would get too messy. Something might happen to him.

  “A guy came along,” she said quickly.“He had a gun, so they backed off. He was a nice guy. He gave me a ride.”

  Pierre said nothing. He only gazed at her with pained eyes and stroked her hand. Then he pressed it to his lips and sighed heavily.

  “I am so sorry, Madison. I am so very sorry.”

  She stared at him in wonder. He really cares about me, she thought. The alcohol loosened her natural restraint, and she found herself leaning toward him, surrendering to the relentless pull of his magnetism. He moved toward her as well, though cautiously. Soon, she could feel his warm breath on her lips, and it was so electric that her legs began to tremble. Pierre pushed a hand into her hair.

  “Ma chérie,” he whispered, almost desperately.

  When their mouths fell together, Madison felt such an unexpected jolt of pleasure that she let escape a low moan. Her whole body was trembling now. Her thoughts faded into smoke, until she was only desire and hunger and fire. Both of Pierre’s hands were in her hair now, his mouth as hungry as hers. His breaths were quick and shallow, accelerating with his growing excitement. Madison was so mad with passion, she wanted to tear off her clothes and pull him onto her so they could make love right there on the seat of his car. But Pierre forced himself away from her mouth with a gasping breath.

  “Wait,” he said, leaning back his head and closing his eyes. “Or my efforts to be a gentleman are in serious danger.”

  Madison looked at him, her cheeks flushed. “Maybe I don’t care if you’re a gentleman.”

  Pierre smiled without opening his eyes. “Well, I do,” he said. “Self control. It is what sets me apart from the person I was in the past. I do not want to be that person again.” He rubbed his face with his hands. “But you make it hard. It was never so hard. Not even with my wife…”

  “Your wife?” Madison gasped. “You’re married?”

  “Was married. Yes.” Pierre lifted his head and looked at her. “I have had a life, chérie. And in my life there was love. Good love. Bad love.”

  “And what kind of love did you have with her?” Madison asked quietly, surprised by the flash of jealousy. The fire inside her began to cool.

  Pierre’s eyes went distant. “First good love. Then bad love. Then very bad love.”

  “Was she French?”

  “Mexican,” he said. “She was the reason I opened the Mexico City office. So she could be near her family. And now she is gone, and I am still here.”

  “Where did she go?” Madison asked, hoping it was very far away.

  “To Greece. With a man even richer than me.”

  Madison looked out the window again. The cinder block houses and taco stands had given way to large gated homes with security guards standing watch in the street. They weren’t anywhere near Enzo’s house, but she didn’t care.

  “Do you miss her?” Madison asked. “Are you still in love with her?”

  “No.” Pierre reached over and took her hand. “I was not in love with her for a very long time.”

  “Why not?”

  “She was beautiful,” he said. “And I was a fool. Men are always fools. The fairytales are full of them. A man falls in love with a princess on sight. They get married and live happily ever after.” He sighed and shook his head. “I assure you there is no happily ever after for a fool.”

  “I’m not sure I understand…” Madison was only vaguely aware of the car ascending a steep, winding road without a house in sight.

  “I like to look at beauty,” he said. “But I need more to fall in love. A woman with a brain.With a sense of self. A woman who knows she will find her place in the world based on what she knows and what she can do. Not on who she marries.” He squeezed Madison’s hand and smiled. “And it helps to have something interesting to talk about.”

  The car took a sharp right and rolled through a large iron gate that swung closed behind them. It pulled down a long driveway, drawing closer to a spectacular mansion. It was a modern build, with geometric lines and a wall of trellised glass that looked out at the vast stretch of city lights below.

  “Where are we?” Madison asked.

  “My house,” Pierre said. “I want to know that you are safe for now.”

  “This is your house?” Madison gasped. The car rolled to a stop and the driver got out. “It’s amazing.”

  “Better than the slums of Paris,” he said, laughing.

  The driver opened Madison’s door and held out his hand. Embarrassed, Madison accepted it and pulled herself out of the car. Pierre came around from the other side. He put a gentle, goading hand on her back.

  “Come inside,” he insisted. “I’ll make you a cup of tea before bed.”

  She arched her eyebrows and smiled. “Bed?”

  Pierre led her up the steps and through the front door. “I have many guest rooms, my dear.”

  Madison stepped inside and gazed around her. It was the most elegant place she’d ever seen, with colorful, wall-sized art that must’ve cost a fortune, and vaulted ceilings made of black metal and glass. The floor to roof windows looked out on a serene, impeccably clean swimming pool, which glowed with blue LED lights. A single lamp cast a lambent light through the room, and Bach’s cello suites played low from hidden speakers.

  She shook her head in awe. “It’s so beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” Pierre said distractedly. He put a tender finger under her chin and lifted it gently. “Let us put something on this. Come.”

 
; He escorted her to a large, beautifully appointed bathroom nearby, and wet an impeccably white hand towel. Then he carefully applied it to the underside of Madison’s chin where the scab had long since dried. He opened the top drawer of the vanity and picked out a tube of antibiotic cream.

  “Now be a good patient,” he murmured, dabbing it onto the wound. “Keep this. You must reapply every few hours. It is no fun to get an infection in Mexico.”

  “Okay,” Madison wearily agreed. “But let’s not talk about it anymore, okay? I just want to forget.”

  An older woman appeared carrying a tray. She was dressed in a peasant skirt and apron. With a respectful nod to Pierre, the woman bustled into the front room. Pierre and Madison followed. The woman set down the tray on a brushed metal coffee table. It held bottled water, a carafe of wine, and two glasses. He gave her a warm smile.

  “You spoil me, Magda,” he said in Spanish. “You should have gone to bed hours ago.”

  The woman shrugged and smiled, but Madison saw the suspicion in her eyes when she glanced her way.

  “I don’t think she likes me,” Madison said.

  Pierre laughed. “She thinks she is my mother sometimes. But she will like you very much. Please sit down.”

  Madison settled onto the white sofa and gazed out at the twinkling lights stretched out to the horizon.

  “From up here, this city is really a knock out.”

  Pierre opened the bottle of wine and poured her a glass. “It is better at night when you cannot see the smog.” He handed her the glass.

  “I thought you were going to make me a cup of tea,” Madison teased coquettishly.

  He poured himself a glass and sat down in the armchair across from her. “Do you want a cup of tea now? I will make it.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “No, this is perfect.”

  Their eyes locked for a long moment. Madison held her breath.

  “Yes,” Pierre said quietly. “It is perfect.”

  Her mind drifted back to the town car and the long kiss.It made the heat rise inside her again. But then she thought of how she’d be going home soon. She’d never know where this could go, and what kind of couple they would make.