by AJ Adams
He was looking at me, his dark eyes half worried, half laughing. “Is it such a bad thing, sirena?”
“No,” I sniffed. “It’s just that I fell for you ages ago. I was afraid to hope this could be more than a fling.”
He sat up, and then I was in his lap. I’m not exactly a tot, but Arturo is fantastically strong. Now I could feel those muscles flex around me, protecting me from the world, keeping me safe. “You’re not just part of my life, Solitaire, you’re in my heart.”
I have to admit that I got quite mushy after that. I didn’t care though, and Arturo seemed to like it. I fell asleep, curled up in his arms, feeling fantastic and knowing my life was finally beginning for real.
When I woke up, I was alone, but there was a note propped up by the side of the bed, saying, “Let’s grow old together.” It was signed with an A.
I bounced into the shower, dressed, and although Eva came fussing around, determined that I should look my best seeing we had a houseguest, it didn’t bother me. I was so happy that nothing could touch me.
As usual, Arturo was in his office doing three things at once, but when he spotted me, his eyes lit up and he grinned. His love shone through, and it set Maria and Gozo giggling. I didn’t care.
“Sirena, Kyle will have a lot of work to do with this extra intel. I want you to help him out.”
“I’d love to.”
“Not too busy with the foundation?”
“Actually, it’s running well. We’ve hit our quota of kids, so it’s mostly a wait-and-see operation for the next few months.”
“Good. Kyle will be in later today.”
I floated through the house accounts, had a quick conference with Luz, and then Eva brought over Bea, Rafa’s singer friend. She turned out to be a sweetheart, and she’d brought all her daughter’s school reports, so we managed to put together a plan that would get her daughter into a good school as well as some extra tutoring to make sure she wouldn’t suffer from the change in pace.
“You’re efficient as ever.” Miguel was sipping coffee and eating a piece of toast spread with honey. He paused and stared briefly at my tits. “That’s new.”
“The top?”
“The piercings. I didn’t think you’d go through with it.”
That was interesting. I really couldn’t imagine myself being this man’s girlfriend, but apparently the old me had liked him just fine. I had a brief sense of darkness, and then I shook it off. It didn’t matter, I told myself. Life is good now, so who cares about the past?
Miguel looked incredulous. “Jesus, I thought it was a crazy rumour! You know what nonsense people talk. I didn’t believe it. You really don’t remember!”
“Nope. Tabula rasa.”
“But Solitaire, what happened? Did you really get hit by lightening?”
The rumour mill grinds on, but it’s not exactly accurate. When details can be embellished, they will be. I gave Miguel a brief outline of the true events, and he was appalled. “You don’t remember me?”
“Nope.”
“Tétouan. You must remember Tétouan!”
“Sorry.”
Miguel just couldn’t get a grip. “It’s awful! You don’t remember anything at all about me?”
Funny right, that he was upset by my not remembering him? The fact that I lost memories of my family and everything else was apparently secondary. I decided Miguel was a selfish bugger. “Not really. Look Miguel, tell me what I need to know tonight, okay? I’ve got work to do.”
“Sirena?” Arturo surfaced briefly from a discussion with his broker in Japan. “Organise a party for tonight? Business, so Miguel gets to see how we work?”
“Sure thing.”
“Oh, and there’s a message from Jesus in Reynosa.”
I had a sense of foreboding. “Oh?”
“He says he’s not getting enough applicants. Can you source him some staff?”
“Strippers and hos?”
“Yes.” Arturo was grinning. “Shall I tell him to fuck off?”
I thought for a moment. I thought of Eva, Bea and the other girls who were so frightened of poverty that they put up with whatever was dished out to them. Most of the city girls were so poor that they’d sell themselves on the street for the price of a hot meal. Texas cowboys flooded across the border every day of the week, taking advantage in every way imaginable. They often didn’t pay, and if they beat the girls, nobody really cared.
There was no way I could employ them all or feed their kids, but I could take on some, ensure that they could decide who they took on as clients, and that they got the lion’s share of the money. I could make that happen by taking on the responsibility, cutting out the pimps, and putting the girls in charge as their own managers.
“Tell him I’ll set the entire thing up,” I told Arturo. “He can have his cut, but I manage it.”
Arturo blinked. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. If he comes round tonight with his specs, I’ll see it gets done.”
“Arturo shrugged. “All right.”
Miguel burst out laughing. “Are you sure you don’t remember Amsterdam?” He turned to Arturo. “You just saw the beginning of a revolution, my friend. A month from now, you won’t recognise your operation.”
And then he got the complete giggles.
Chapter Twenty-One: Arturo
I wanted to kill Fuentes the first time I set eyes on him. No, actually even before that, just because he was Solitaire’s ex, but after that session in the dungeon, he didn’t bother me anymore. Solitaire was mine, and mine alone. Knowing that put me on top of the world, and no power on earth could destroy my joy. I was head over heels.
I had decided to ask Solitaire to marry me, but I wanted to wait until Fuentes left. Call me crazy, but I felt that asking her while that ghost from her past was around would be unlucky.
Although I couldn’t like him, Fuentes was an easy guest. He stayed a couple of days, talking to Kyle and me about his outfit and his plans for expansion, and then he went for a visit to Colombia.
“There’s nowhere better to learn the basics of the trade,” he said. “But I promise I’ll drop by on my way back.”
“Terrific,” I lied. “Have a great trip!”
While Fuentes was away, Kyle set his team checking up possible leads, while Solitaire, Rafa and Chumillo coordinated and tabulated results. Unfortunately Fuentes’ security was shit, so his statement that only he and Solitaire had known about his Algiers contacts turned out to be bogus. When Kyle put it all together, we ended up with a complete reversal of our situation: instead of zero suspects, we now had dozens of potential sources.
“We’ll have to sit tight,” Kyle said. “There are only so many moves Songbird can make before we find a link or a pattern. We’ve almost got enough information. We just have to wait.”
“Is it you?” I was so happy that it was like being high.
Kyle rolled his eyes. “No. Does that mean we stage a coup and take you out?”
“We can’t. I’ve got visitors from the alma mater dropping by, and they’re so blue-blooded that they think they’ve got a patent on revolution.”
Winston Madison had called that morning, “I’ll be in the neighbourhood tomorrow. Any chance of your being home?”
“Come for lunch.”
“We’re a group of four, and everyone’s brought his bride.”
“You’re all welcome.”
His voice had been a blast from the past. I hadn’t seen Madison for years, and I knew this wasn’t social. There was a new water plant being built up the coast, and I owned a nice chunk of it. I also cornered a bit of the construction deal, and the land north of the plant, perfect for an industrial zone, was mine too. Madison was here because he wanted in.
“I’ll clear my schedule and take the women off your hands,” Solitaire said. “Do you want a family type Mexican lunch or a show-off gourmet French one?”
“Let’s eat local.”
“Okay. Is he a fan of spicy foo
d? Luz has red snapper, and she wants to cook it Veracruzana style.”
“He hates foreign food. Snapper sounds perfect.”
Solitaire stared at me. “What did this bloke do? Give you wedgies?”
“He thinks wetbacks like me sully the land of the free.”
“I’ll tell Luz we want extra habañeros in the caldo.”
“Solitaire, there are no chillies in chicken soup.”
“There are when racist shitheads invite themselves over for lunch.” Solitaire gave me a wicked grin. “It will be a zinger.”
It was too, even though Luz refused to ruin her caldo with chillies.
Madison was wrong-footed from the second he arrived. “Nice place you’ve got here!” The surprise in his voice came over loud and clear, but his associates, three good ol’ boys complete with cowboy hats and alligator hide boots, were smiling as they looked around.
I could see at once that these were small-time investors hoping to make it big by knowing ‘the right’ people. Madison is a very distant relative of the Madison who co-authored the United States Constitution, and he name-drops like hell, so he sounds good – if you have the street smarts of a newborn kitten. These men needed Chloe’s Raoul to teach them some facts of life, because anyone in Madison’s reach ends up broke fast. He’s the kind of man who invests in commodities futures because his Magic 8 Ball tells him he’s onto a sure thing.
The hopeful associates came with blonde and curvy wives. They looked like a lot of fun, but Madison intimidated them, and from the way they shied away from me, he must have told them I was a drug-crazed nut. Madison had married Sam Adams, a blue-blooded girl who was thin, dark and quiet, but she had a nice smile.
It’s not my kind of fun to run people down, but Madison lives for it. “I had no idea you did so well for yourself,” he said when finally ensconced on the terrace overlooking the rose garden. “Business is good, huh?”
“Yes, it is.”
“I guess that means the ‘just say no’ campaign isn’t working so well, huh?”
Solitaire arrived just in time to hear him, and from the flash in her eyes I knew she’d heard. From her smile I knew she was plotting something nasty. I can look after myself, but it gave me a warm feeling knowing she was in my corner.
As it happened, just having Solitaire turn up had Madison’s panties in a bunch. She was dressed in white slacks and a blue silk blouse the colour of her eyes. The sapphire and diamond necklace peeked out from under the thin material. She looked like a supermodel. Jaws clanged, and then the good ol’ boys were frisking around her, panting and drooling.
Madison had gone purple, either from envy or trying to suck in his gut. Sam Adams’ blood was much bluer than her husband’s, but the thing is that old families tend to go with inbreeding. Money had fixed the nose and given her a rack, but nothing could mend the receding chin and scrambled brains.
Solitaire smiled at everyone and swept the girls off, saying, “I thought you might like to see something off the tourist track. I’ve arranged a private visit to a textile factory.”
“Oh, local weaving?” Sam cried. “How exciting!”
Solitaire smiled at her. “The boss is taking us around himself, and if you want to special order, we can arrange to send it to you. At family prices, of course.” She looked at me. “Quique has arranged it,” meaning she was taking an armed guard, and I wasn’t to worry. “We’ll be back for cocktails at one.”
When she came back, I sneaked a quiet kiss in the kitchen and heard they had a blast at the factory. I own a piece of it, so Solitaire and the girls got royal treatment. “We gave them all a quilt as a gift. Nicely packaged, and with extra business cards, so their friends can buy direct.”
“Think they will?”
“I’m certain of it. I told them we’d kick back five percent for every order they place in the next twelve months. And Sam has a cousin who runs a chain of gift shops. Your manager was so excited that he was all over her. He drooled and practically humped her leg, but she took it like a trooper. Sam has class. How did you do?”
“Not so good. Madison wants in, and I’m not in a mood to share.”
“I take it you don’t want to tell him we have no place for gabachos here?”
“No. But if he makes any more cracks about cocaine, I might.”
“Very witty.” Solitaire took my arm. “When he talks, just remember that Sam is worried about Madison’s heart.”
“Oh?”
“It seems he’s low on steam,” Solitaire grinned, “and Sam read in a magazine that a droopy pecker can be the first sign of hypertension.”
That cheered me up, and lunch was even better. Madison tried to impress Solitaire by name-dropping. He started with his own, of course.
“You may have heard the family name before,” Madison said pompously.
Solitaire looked interested. “Yes?”
“Like the American Constitution. And the President.”
“How nice!”
The tepid response didn’t go over well. “You’re English, so you must appreciate history.”
“We tend to talk up our good times and sweep the shameful bits under the rug,” Solitaire replied frankly.
“Being President is shameful?” Madison was outraged.
“I think it would be if the enemy burnt down the White House during my watch,” Solitaire mused thoughtfully. “But I suppose there’s no point in trying to hide it. Not when President Obama gives speeches about how it was the servants who saved what art they could, while the white folks snaffled the silver and legged it.”
Madison’s rage was volcanic, but Sam giggled. “Aren’t ancestors awful? We’ve a slave owner in our family who wanted to marry his horse.”
“Very classy,” Solitaire said approvingly. “Wasn’t there a Roman emperor who did that?”
“One of my great grandmothers was Mexican, but she always pretended to be French,” one of the good ol’ boys said. “Ain’t folks strange?”
The conversation then centred on what a pain in the ass snobs are, and Madison was gratifyingly silent. When we finally waved them off, I felt happy knowing Madison had failed on all points. He wouldn’t get his hands on my deal, and Solitaire was way out of his league. Yup, it was small of me, but I enjoyed it.
“That was a nasty crack, the one about his presidential ancestor.”
“Wasn’t it?” Solitaire grinned. “You said he boasted about that, so I Googled him for dirt while Sam was buying up half the factory inventory. He won’t be back making nasty remarks any time soon.”
Isn’t she something? I knew she’d been planning something, but that blew me away.
“Let’s switch off the lights, pretend we’re out and play in the dungeon,” Solitaire suggested. “It’s going to be a busy couple of days, and I’d like to approach it with a clear mind.”
We had a blast playing with the sex swing, and then we were plunged into a vortex of activity. Solitaire assembled her team of girls while I was nailing down the water deal, and both of us spent every spare second analysing the Songbird issue. After a week of that, Miguel came back.
“I love Colombia!” he announced. “Beautiful place, lovely girls and fantastic food!” He’d brought back gifts as well as lots of gossip. From the way he wrangled an invite to stay for a couple of days, it looked like he wanted to be more than an associate.
“I’m not adopting him,” I grumbled to Solitaire.
“You need him to secure those new markets, and it won’t hurt to have Kyle pump him for information,” she soothed me. “We’ll have a going away party for him on Friday. It will make him feel part of the family, and it’s a nice way of saying, ‘sod off back home, why don’t you?’”
Solitaire was right of course. Fuentes knew everyone between Turkey and Guinea Bissau, and over the next few days I data mined the fucker mercilessly.
When he wasn’t talking shop with me, Fuentes filled Solitaire in on some of her past, but frankly she didn’t seem that inte
rested. It might have been because she was busy with her new project. Miguel had collapsed into laughter when he heard her take up Jesus’ challenge, and I soon figured out why.
Solitaire went to work with a vengeance, and within a short time my house was pussy central. That was nothing unusual, except that this lot were untouchable.
“They work for me,” Solitaire warned Chumillo who was admiring a garden filled with giggling tits and ass. “They’re not here to amuse you.”
“But half of those girls were recommended by me!”
“I’m grateful you’re the biggest man slut in Nuevo Laredo, and if the girls decide they want to say thanks later, they can do so. On their own time and on their own dime,” Solitaire replied sharply. “First they have some training to complete.”
Training, it turned out, consisted of morning discussions about house rules, all of which seemed to focus on safety issues ranging from condoms to blacklists and sales technique. In the afternoons, Solitaire held self defence classes.
She drilled the girls mercilessly, and at the end of the first day she told me she intended to send them off to Reynosa in the company of six bouncers, all recommended by Kyle, at the end of the week
“The place doesn’t open for another fortnight,” I told Solitaire. “Better keep them here, or they’ll be hooking on street corners before you even open.”
“They’ll be cleaning, painting and decorating. It builds team spirit, instils discipline and adds to the bottom line. They’ll also be getting lessons in tending bar. It will be mostly beer and tequila there, but I’m sending a good man, a pro from Dallas, to teach them some flashy tricks of the trade. We’ll be offering topless bar service, just to bring in the punters who want an eyeful without buying the complete experience.”
“Experience?”
“Fucking’s cheap. Experience is classy.”
She had it all worked out, and I loved her for it.
“Who are they, anyway?”
“They’re all single, they all have a kid or two, and they’ve all worked in one of your clubs or bars at one point. They’re over eighteen, clean, and I hope to God none of them steals or tries to scam the punters, because they’ll have nowhere else to go.”