Songbird

by A. J. Adams

  “Yeah, me too. You’re the best thing in my life, ever.”

  Solitaire grinned. “I was thinking dinner. I’ve lost track of time, but I think we’ve missed a meal or two.”

  “Eggs? Tea?”

  She closed her eyes and kissed me softly. “Yes, please. I’m so hungry, I could eat a horse and chase the jockey.”

  “Come on then, let’s raid the kitchen.”

  Luz goes home at night, but I’ve got people dropping round constantly, so she always leaves food for me in the fridge. We raided it, and ten minutes later I was frying steak and eggs while Solitaire was making tea and buttering bread. I hadn’t been domestic like this since college: my other women liked being waited on and were permanently on diets, so post-sex binges hadn’t figured much. I love to cook, but I usually have to wait till the family comes round for a barbecue, so I was enjoying myself.

  Solitaire took one bite of the chicken fried steak and growled. “Oh my God, this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten! What is this amazing sauce?”

  “Salsa Criolla – jalapeño, cilantro and tomato.”

  “A man who’s a dream in bed and the kitchen. Talk about falling on your feet!”

  Solitaire was grinning, thoroughly enjoying herself. She had a streak of salsa on her lip, and all I could think of was that I wanted to lick it all off. She cleaned her plate with a piece of bread and finally sighed with satisfaction.

  “You cooked, so I’ll do the dishes. Afterwards, will you give me a tour?”

  I watched her ass jiggle as she scrubbed the pan, and then I kissed her in every room in the house, including the maid’s storage closet. I felt like a college kid, excited at the thought of having a serious girl at last. It was totally chick flick, and I was in heaven.

  We ended up in the back garden by the pool.

  “It’s beautiful,” Solitaire sighed. “I love the gardens and the big squashy sofas, and this pool is a dream come true.”

  “Want to go skinny-dipping?”

  Solitaire instantly whipped off her top. “Yup. Listen, if I don’t know how to swim, fish me out, okay?” And before I could say another word, she ran over the grass and jumped in the water.

  Me, I almost had a heart attack.

  “What do you mean, if you can’t swim?” I was talking to ripples on the surface. I was kicking off my jeans, about to jump in after her when she breast-stroked to the surface.

  “This is brilliant!” She flipped her heels over her head and dove to the bottom, her hair swirling around her in a cloud. I shucked my clothes and followed her in.

  By the time we’d challenged each other to see who could sit on the bottom longest and who did the fastest crawl, I was hard for her again. We ended up in the shallows, and afterwards I settled with her on the terrace, cuddling deep into a peacock chair I brought back from a trip to Jakarta a couple of years ago. I’ve always liked that chair, and now I discovered it’s perfectly sized for two, as well.

  The lights were low, but I could see Solitaire’s eyes were half lidded and her mouth soft.

  “Happy, sirena?”

  “Hmmm, yes. And thoroughly bonked.” She yawned, a jaw cracking affair that came with a little stretch.

  I stroked of lock of hair off her face. “You didn’t know if you could swim?”

  “Nope.” The sapphire eyes were looking into mine. “Everything that’s a habit, like brushing my teeth or making tea, just comes automatically, and if I don’t think about it, I know stuff like Princeton is an American Ivy League university, but I don’t know where I was last week or last year, even.”

  “Does it bother you?”

  “No.” Solitaire sounded certain. “I know I had a shitty time, Arturo, and I don’t want to dwell on it.” She hesitated. “I get flashes, and they’re depressing as hell. I’m hoping it will just go away.”

  “All right. Anything I can do?”

  “No thanks.” Solitaire smiled and changed the subject. “Tell me, what do we do in the next few days? I feel like jet lag is hitting me over the head, but it’s still early, right?”

  “It’s ten or so. Try to stay up another hour. Tomorrow it’s business as usual for me, but you can sleep late.”

  Solitaire shook her head. “I’m up when you are, Arturo.” She wriggled off my lap. “I’m going to find a loo. Shall I bring you back a beer?”

  “Please. G&T is behind the bar.”

  “Got it.”

  Solitaire drifted off, and I sat looking out over the pool and feeling good about life, the universe and everything when there was a flash of grey and a ‘plop’ of water. It happens every summer: the cottontails go crazy with the heat, start racing around the fields and swing by the pool so fast that they fall right in. They could swim to the edge and climb out, but they’re brainless little things, and so they panic and drown.

  I got up, fished him out with the leaf rake and was about to bundle him up in a towel when the airheaded fuzzy bugger panicked and jumped back in the pool. I’m quick, so I grabbed his ears. I heard a gasp behind me, and as I fished the cottontail out and dropped him in the towel, I caught sight of Solitaire looking white as a sheet.

  She looked sick, and it scared me to death. I bundled up the rabbit and got to my feet. “You okay?”

  Solitaire swallowed and looked at the writhing towel. “I – yes. Sorry, will it be okay?”

  “Sure.”

  I walked the rabbit to the front gate and handed him to Danny. Some of the men have a cruel streak, but Danny is an animal lover. I could rely on him to release it safely. Then I went back to see Solitaire.

  She was on the terrace, and she immediately handed me a beer. I took it and went straight for it. “You thought I was drowning it?”

  Solitaire looked me straight in the eye. “Yes, for a split second, I did.”

  That hurt. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised, I mean, I do have a rep for cruelty, and I’m a perverted fuck, but drowning cottontails for kicks just isn’t on my radar.

  “It’s not what you think,” Solitaire said quietly. “I was thinking of Escamilla.”

  “What?”

  “You asked me about my memory,” Solitaire shrugged. “I was pouring my drink, and I got a glimpse of myself in the mirror behind the bar. Every time I do that I get flashes. Mostly it’s me looking bruised or seeing my mum in hospital, but this time I had this weird sensation that I was drinking gin, just gulping it straight from the bottle.”

  It wasn’t hard to figure out why. “Putting distance between you and what was going to come next?”

  “Yes. I think he was going to rape me again, at least, I had this sense of horror,” Solitaire spoke softly. “So I came outside to be with you, and I guess I just got lost in time and space for a second.”

  I patted my knees. “Come sit with me.” She came, settling silkily against me. “Poor Solitaire.”

  “Fuck that, I won’t be a victim,” she mumbled into my chest. “I’m just happy the bastard is rotting in hell.”

  I sat and held her, thinking she might need to cry, but she didn’t. Funny that, Loli cried for weeks after being held hostage for an hour, but Solitaire held strong after weeks of abuse. If that was an effect of the amnesia, I was all for it.

  Even so, I felt guilty. I knew Escamilla had taken a woman because Fucho reported it, but I hadn’t bothered to see if she’d been willing or not. I should have known she might not be, because Escamilla was known to enjoy a bit of rape, but I didn’t even think of it. I mean, I’ve got five thousand employees, more if you count the businesses I own a small percentage of. Most of my people are ordinary, but the cartel men don’t exactly play nice. Now I was wondering how many other Solitaires were out there. It wasn’t a good thought.

  “What is it, Arturo?” Solitaire was looking at me, concern in her eyes.

  “It’s nothing, sirena.”

  “You’re looking guilty,” she said slowly. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  “No.”


  She’d never find out, I told myself. It would only upset her if I told her. It would be a lousy way to start living together.

  Solitaire was watching me. “Well,” she said thoughtfully, “I don’t think I’m the kind to pry, but you look decidedly shifty.”

  “I’m a cartel man, what do you expect?”

  “Arsehole!” Solitaire was laughing. Then she gave me a smacking kiss. “Keep your secret, Arturo, but if you want to talk, I’m here.”

  We sat for a while with me enjoying the sound of the cicadas and the warm evening air. I love London, but the damp and the cold get to me after a few days. It was good to be home.

  “This place is great,” Solitaire sighed on cue. “Isn’t it weird, Arturo, how you can go from hell to heaven in a few hours?” She nestled against me. “After all the emo and angst, I’m looking forward to settling in. First thing I’m going to do is learn proper Spanish, and then I’m going to look for a job.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that at all. I opened my mouth to tell her no fucking way was she taking a job when I remembered the deal. I shut it but Solitaire was onto me.

  “Let me say it for you,” she sighed. “No way is my woman working? Or no way is my woman working in a place where she could be shot?”

  She got me, my girl. “Bit of both.”

  “The women in your family don’t work?”

  “Some do, but we’re a bit careful about where and who with.”

  “Hmmm.” Solitaire was thinking. “Well,” she said thoughtfully. “I’ll start by taking some lessons online for free, but in the meantime, Arturo, you can help me. I must have a bank account somewhere, and I’d like access to it. Then I’ll pay for some classes, and we can see what comes next.”

  “No argument about the job?”

  “No point till I can speak Spanish.”

  God, I love that about her: she’s practical down to the bone.

  “Sirena, if you want to work, we’ll figure something out, but you don’t have to.”

  Those blue eyes were looking into mine. “Now who was it that said to me that women need careers because they can’t trust men?”

  I had to hand it to her. “Bruja.”

  She was laughing. “Oh, it was you!”

  “I’ll arrange for classes, so don’t worry about that.” I was kicking myself. “And I’ll call José and tell him to run a credit check on you. That’s the fastest way to find out what’s what. We’ll get copies of your taxes too.”

  “You think I paid taxes?”

  “You’ve got brains. Ever since they got Capone, everyone does paperwork. Or I should say, declares the business they can find out about.”

  Solitaire was thinking. “It’s kind of creepy,” she said finally. “I have no idea what I’ve been doing.” She lay her head on my shoulder. “I guess I’ll find out at some point.”

  I resolved to put a PI onto it in the morning, but Solitaire was way ahead of me.

  “Don’t bother trying to dig up more dirt, Arturo. As soon as people know I’m here, you’ll be getting calls with the gossip.”

  “Think so?”

  “Bound to,” Solitaire said sleepily. “Your exes won’t like me, and from what you’ve said, your sisters will be difficult, too, so they’ll be all over it. All we have to do is sit and wait.”

  I had to laugh. “Most girls would be keen to make friends.”

  “Possibly.” She was yawning. “But there’s no way you can make people like you. All you can hope for is respect.” Her eyes were closing. “And if they’re determined to dislike me, they may as well be useful.”

  Don’t you just love her?

  I kissed her hair. “I’m so glad I found you.”

  “Hrmpf, shoo fruz.”

  “What?”

  One blue eye opened. “I said: who would have guessed? Makes you wonder if suffering brings reward, right?”

  Shit. This wasn’t where I wanted to go.

  Solitaire was now looking at me with wide open eyes. “Oh, is that what’s eating you?” she said surprised. “Christ, Arturo! You’ve got how many people working for you?”

  “A few thousand.”

  “You don’t baby-sit them, do you?”

  “No.”

  “I’m not exactly an angel.”

  “That doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

  “Like hell it doesn’t!” Solitaire snapped. “That file says I’ve been shacking up with scum since I was a kid.”

  “Not your fault.”

  Solitaire shook her head. “I made my own choices, Arturo. It looks like I’ve been round the block once or twice, and when you play with wasps, you can’t squeal if you get stung.”

  “I knew he’d taken up with a woman, but I never looked into it.”

  Solitaire shrugged. “Oh well, if it bothers you, look into it next time round.”

  “That’s it?”

  “You’re old enough to make your own choices, Arturo.”

  “I thought you’d be mad at me.”

  “Tell you what, take me to bed and make it up to me.”

  I did, but after I curled myself around her and watched her drop off to sleep, I decided that there was too much similarity between me and Escamilla for comfort. I’d be as open as I could with Solitaire, but I’d keep the more serious aspects of the business away from her.

  After all, honesty may be the best policy, but it’s best not to overdo it. Nobody can love a monster. Not even a girl as strong as Solitaire. And if there was one thing in the world I was determined to hang on to, it was her love.

  Chapter Fourteen: Solitaire

  I woke up feeling fantastic. Arturo was curled around me, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and sex the night before had been fantastic. When I shifted a little, Arturo’s arm tightened and he was kissing my neck, all without waking up.

  Who would have thought it? Yesterday I’d been angry, hurt and frightened. I knew I was alone, without roots or friends. I’d have to accept whatever Arturo had in store for me, and it scared me stupid. Now I was completely buttery, feeling happy and curious what this new life would be like. What a difference a day makes, right?

  So I was on top of the world, and by the feel of the tent pole digging into my back, Arturo was feeling the love, too. I wriggled a bit more, and we started the day with a bang. From there, it all became a bit crazy.

  First off, I learned that Arturo was on the go from dawn, regardless of jetlag. I was still curled up in a post-coital haze when he got up and rushed off to his office, telling me that breakfast was at nine. It felt like two minutes later that a woman came in, accompanied by a girl carrying a tray.

  “Miss Solitaire, it’s half past eight. El jefe asked me to remind you breakfast is at nine.”

  “Whazzahoft?”

  “Jetlag,” she smiled. “I am Luz. I run the house for el jefe. I made you espresso.” She waved at the girl. “And this is Eva, your maid.”

  That opened my eyes and cleared the fog from my brain. “My what?”

  “Eva is a modista, erm, tailor? And she is very expert in hair. She has a little English, too.”

  “I don’t need a maid.” The instant I said it, I wished I hadn’t because Eva looked stricken. I looked at her, seeing past the new shiny black dress to the rough hands that were twisting nervously. I remembered Mexico is a poor country, and knew this woman probably had a family depending on her. “I meant,” I amended hastily, “that I’ve never had a maid before.”

  “It is the jefe’s order,” Luz sounded as if Arturo was omnipotent, and here, in Nuevo Laredo, he probably was. “Your Spanish teacher arrives at eleven.”

  “Jefe’s orders?”

  “Sí!”

  Yes, I was in Arturo country. “So, Luz, if I’m to go to breakfast, I should put on some clothes. Do you know where my suitcase went?”

  And that’s when I discovered I had a suite of my own.

  The blue suite, right next door to Arturo’s, was gorgeous. A huge bed,
a massive window overlooking the pool, a sunken bath with Jacuzzi jets, a walk-in closet and a gigantic plasma television that popped out from behind a wall hanging of some Balinese girls bathing if you twiddled a button by the bed.

  The whole set-up was stunning, but I didn’t have much time to enjoy it, because Eva was dead keen to prove herself. She’d already unpacked for me, and as I showered she was hovering about nervously. My hair is thick and dead straight, so I just wash and go, which didn’t suit Eva, who wanted to blow dry it. She also didn’t approve of jeans and a tee, but I refused to wear couture to breakfast. I told her to go have a cup of tea and went off, determined to find Eva something to do that wouldn’t involve chasing me about.

  I found Arturo in his office. His two secretaries were guarding the door, and they looked like they wanted to stop me from going in. I had no doubt that Arturo’s other women had been kept out of this part of his life, and I was determined to set standards of my own, so I stuck my nose in the air, gave them a cool “Buenos días” and marched straight past them.

  Arturo was on the phone, talking rapidly while at the same time digging through a file of newspaper clippings. He was talking about diminishing returns and economies of scale, and whoever was on the other side of the line was apparently ignorant about both principles.

  “Ay-yay-yay, Kelvin! This isn’t like running a factory! You can only push nature so far!”

  Nature, probably a harvest of some kind – coca, opium or hash.

  When I sat down, Arturo looked up and smiled. He really is very good-looking when he does that. That calculating saturnine scowl disappears completely, and you can see the fun-loving Arturo underneath. While he talked, I took the opportunity to look him over closely. After all, he was mine now.

  Arturo had been very understated in London but here, in his own setting, he was himself: a powerhouse, totally focused and erudite.

  Now he was persuading Kelvin to dial back on expectations. “Look, it’s normal to have a poor harvest every now and again. If it’s not storms and floods, it’s drought, wildfires and caterpillars. It’s not important, because we make up for it in other years. Just look at last year’s figures. We had a bumper crop, remember? And we made a fucking fortune. So be patient and forget about trying to force a double harvest. It just doesn’t work.”