Becoming the Czar

by Olivia Gaines

  “This is a chit chat or what I like to call a family meeting,” Yuñior started, creating a brief smile with his lips. “Please allow me to finish and leave all the questions until the end.”

  He went through his plan, carefully outlining each step and asking each member of the family to aid in Zeta’s training. The more he talked, the more Irena became incensed, making Zeta more uncomfortable with each passing second. Yuñior found it amusing.

  “Zeta, ven aca,” he said, asking the young woman to come stand at his side. “Chin up, Zeta, and look at Irena. If that woman wanted me dead, I need for you to look at her as if the only way she was going to get to me would be through you. Do it. Now, show her you mean business.”

  The timid Zeta’s head rose, and she made eye contact with Irena. Each second that passed her boldness grew. Zeta’s demeanor changed and her body language went from passive to aggressor in less than a minute.

  “Se vee, you have what it takes to work at my side,” he said, asking the young woman to take a seat. “Your training will be extensive and you shall travel with me, taking notes, scheduling meetings and follow-ups, and handling the details I do not wish to occupy space in my brain.”

  Dona Marin, Zeta’s mother, didn’t fully understand what the young Czar was requesting.

  “Señor, pardon me, I mean no disrespect, but my Zeta, shall travel with you unaccompanied? This is not respectable,” Dona Marin stated.

  “Zeta shall be my employee, my confidante, and the one person who will know my schedule and my whereabouts at all times. I would not trust that type of information to any woman, not even the Lady of the Lands, but your daughter shall know,” Yuñior said. “She will be compensated a generous salary once her training is complete.”

  Dona Marin knew of the former brothers of Eduardo Delgado and their appetites. She expected nothing more from the nephews of the men, although none thus far had visited the village to take advantage of the young maidens. Ramon was no longer able to protect his daughter, but she would not allow her to be led to slaughter without a fight.

  “Again, Señores, no disrespect, but it had been my hopes to have the Fer de Lance make my Zeta a good match,” Dona Marin said, clasping her hands together. “This arrangement would lessen her opportunities to find a suitable mate.”

  Yuñior pressed his lips together. In his pocket were a handful of magical beans that he planned to drop in the floor to see if they would sprout. Carefully he spoke so all would understand.

  “Marianna and Julianna work at my father’s side and are my blood. Mara works in this home and she is my blood,” Yuñior said. “Zeta, should you choose to accept this generous offer, you will be the first woman from the village to work inside of this organization who does not focus on finding a way to increase the revenue of our coca plants.”

  He paused for effect, pulling his hand from his pocket and allowing the invisible beans to scatter about the floor as he walked, kicking the seeds left and right. His eyes went from Marianna to Mara and back to Dona. Finally, his eyes rested upon Irena.

  “Our culture does not foster the position of women in leadership roles. True, Evita Peron rose to power in Argentina, but it was only after the illness of her husband. It is after the death of your husband, Ramon Marin, who was a friend to me, that this offer is made,” Yuñior said. “I make the offer with noble intentions; however, if you desire for my father to pair your daughter with one of the young men who work the land, we can make it so. I leave the choice to you to think about.”

  Dona Marin still did not trust the young Delgado, who was too good looking, too powerful, and too well connected to allow her daughter to be in his hands. She rubbed dry fingers together in fear as she spoke.

  “My Zeta will live here in this home with you?” Dona Marin asked.

  “Of course not,” Yuñior replied. “Only those who are related by blood may stay in the familial home. I do, however, have a home nearby where you and your sons may also reside. Should Zeta accept the position as my assistant, your sons will be trained as groundskeepers for the villa and be responsible for the upkeep of the flowers and landscaping.”

  “This job you will make for my sons?” Dona Marin asked, uncertain if she had heard him correctly. “And what of me? I have no skills other than a woman’s work in the home.”

  “Señora, again, I have explained this numerous times, yet it does not seem to permeate the fog surrounding your mind. Understandably, the death of Ramon and your grieving process is underway, but if you accept the offer, you shall be able to move into the groundskeeper’s cottage once Ramon is laid to rest,” Yuñior informed Dona. “Your job, again, depending on Zeta accepting my offer, is resting in a rocker on your acceptance of the roles for your sons and your position as housekeeper in the current unoccupied wings of the home belonging to myself and my brother.”

  “You desire for me to clean rooms that no one lives in?” Dona asked, cocking her head to the side.

  “In fifteen months, I am due to marry,” Yuńior told Dona. “My wife and I shall occupy those wings when I am here. The guests for the wedding will occupy those suites during their stay, so the work shall be plenty in preparation and upkeep.”

  The entire room sat quietly as Dona Marin stared at him in distrust. Yuñior exhaled, and without thinking, offered her his come get some smile. Dona Marin flinched in the seat and crossed her legs.

  “I have no desires to shame your daughter. If and when the time comes and she chooses to marry, I shall have personally vetted her chosen mate, if not hand picked him to ensure a good match,” Yuñior told her.

  Dona knew a snake when she saw one, with or without the camouflage of fancy words and secretive smiles. Yuñior Delgado’s eyes said he was up to no good. Trusting him was not an easy task, and she would not let her guard down when it came to Zeta. If bad things were to befall her daughter, she would never forgive herself for falling asleep on the watch assigned to her as mother.

  “Again, Señor, I do not wish to be ungrateful, but why are you doing this? Why do you do this thing for my family?”

  “I am doing this for Ramon’s family. I am doing this for the man who helped me even when I did not realize I needed help. Dona Marin, I say this as a learned man who has come to terms with the knowledge that at times, we all need a bit of help. I am offering this help to you,” Yuñior explained. “I leave you with two options, Zeta takes the job and your family moves. Zeta refuses the job, you stay where you are, and my father shall make a match for your daughter. Your sons shall be taught a trade and life continues.”

  “How much time do we have to consider your offer?”

  “I shall show you the cottage before you depart,” Yuñior said.

  “Señor, again, no disrespect, but you didn’t answer my question.”

  “Didn’t I?” he said, offering her a full-on toothy smile. Everybody in the room drew back in the stark contrast in the change in Yuñior’s demeanor when he smiled. Everyone but Eduardo, who burst into laughter.

  “The kittens in the village are going to die!” Eduardo said, laughing loudly and getting to his feet.

  Yuñior held up his fist to his father who provided a fist bump before heading to his own office. The laughter of Eduardo Delgado still rang through the lower portion of the house as Yuñior escorted the Marin family to examine the cottage being prepared for their stay.

  ANDRES WASN’T BUYING any of it. He knew his brother well enough to know how his mind worked. The girl. An Assistant. The family. It was surreal. He shared his thoughts with his brother.

  “You have got to be shitting me, in the shittiest of the crampiest room in the house, that girl – the one in the dress made out of coffee bean sacks, you want her trained to be your assistant?” Andres said when they were alone. “That girl is afraid of her shadow and you expect her to stand in yours?”

  “No, I expect her to enter a room before me and cast her own shadow to keep me looking cool,” Yuñior replied. “You know what, Hermano, I�
��m going to need a bigger plane.”

  “How did we go from you plucking Ma Joad’s daughter out of the fields and telling her she’s going to be a movie star in Cali-forn-I.A.... This is ridiculous. You want me to teach Ivy Joad to throw Ninja stars laced with venom. The girl will probably cut her own hand and poison herself,” Andres said.

  “I see you have finished The Grapes of Wrath,” Yuñior replied. “I’m still feeling some kind of way about Tom.”

  “Fuck that, you and the Rose of Sharon in there...what was that about? Did you see the look on her face when you asked Zeta to come stand next to you? Honestly, you cannot make this stuff up, Yuñior.”

  “The better question is did you see the look on Zeta’s face when I said she had to protect me? She is more than capable and deserves a chance at a different future other than spending the rest of her life lying under a man who smells like sweat and a donkey’s ass,” Yuñior said. “I wish her to have options in life.”

  “Sí, but I also noticed the seedlings you were dropping for Irena, do you think she picked up on your cues?”

  “As obtuse as she is, it is doubtful, but I also have fifteen months to bring her into the light.”

  Andres stood on the porch of the old groundskeeper’s cottage, noticing the replacement of the rotted wood. The old house was getting a new life. He understood his brother’s quest, but didn’t necessarily support the process.

  “This will be a distraction,” Andres said.

  “A distraction from what, riding the fields? Dressing up like the family mascot in a receiving line for our grandparents? Checking the fuel supplies daily to ensure we have enough petrol to make cocaine? You’re damned right it is a distraction,” Yuñior said. “If my life comes to an abrupt end, Andres, I want someone to miss me.”

  “I shall miss you, Hermano.”

  “As I shall you, but at the end of my life, I want to be known for having been more than just the son of Eduardo Delgado or the first-born grandson of the Hernandez’s. My name should be my own and either strike fear or admiration in those who speak it or hear it being spoken,” Yuñior said adamantly.

  “Wow, does your amante have a sister? I want some of whatever she is putting on you,” Andres said, only to find that his brother had moved quickly and held his finger to his throat as if the digit were Yunior’s favorite blade. Andres gulped in shock. “I’m sorry, I meant no disrespect to Diadra, but you are changing, and I cannot help to think it is because of the woman.”

  “The only thing truly changing on me daily are my underwear,” Yuñior replied, taking a step back and looking around the land, the two wings which would serve as their primary residences once they married standing as sentries. “Andres we have so much. Those around us have so little. She may be the best assistant in the world or she may be the worst. I have no way of knowing until we start to dig down into it, but in the meantime, I seriously doubt that once they see the refurbished inside of that cottage, Zeta or Dona will to want to go back to the house near the coca fields.”

  “Yes, but now you have three women vying for space in your head,” Andres said, leading him back to the main house. This evening he wanted to sit down with his older brother and share a drink or possibly talk about the future. They arrived at the main house to find Isabella waiting on the porch with Yunior’s tablet.

  “Make that four ladies,” Yuñior said, waving to his little sister, who bounded to her feet in glee at his arrival. “Andres, I have a plan, but first, I need a few hundred thousand more to upgrade my plane.”

  “You think I should go after Tito again?”

  Yuñior stood on the front porch, Isabella now resting on his hip after he lifted her into his arms and looking out over the green fields of his ancestors. No matter how many times he saw the image, whether in the early morning sun or the late afternoon sunsets, it never failed to inspire him

  “No, let’s go after the big dog. Hit him hard, but low. I don’t want it all, maybe half a million. Take your percentage before the cut and pay your men,” Yuñior said.

  “Will do,” Andres answered, looking at his brother. “Yuñior, will there be time for me and you to talk? I have a few things I want to discuss with you about life and other stuff coming up...Micah is turning 14, next month. There is the ceremony. The annual party. Choices to be made. I know Papa isn’t going to go...”

  “He may.”

  “If not, the ceremony will be left to you, for Micah...do you think he’s ready?”

  Yuñior shrugged. At this point in his life, he wasn’t sure anyone was ready, but everyone had a role to play, including him. Micah was coming of age, which meant it was also the young man’s time to take the next step.

  “Andres, would you like the honor of making the selections?” he asked.

  “Me? You’re going to trust me to make the selections?” he asked, arching his eyebrows. “The last time I went into Calibra’s House of Love, I made the mistake of picking up what I thought was a ladies lacy tank top. It was that woman’s panties. I have never seen a pair of panties that large in my life. They looked like one of those lacy things Abuelita uses to cover her table for teatime. Calibra got all offended then banned me from the building. Why those things were left lying about is beyond me.”

  Yuñior chuckled at his brother’s antics, but he didn’t want Micah’s selection for the ceremony to come from a house of ill repute.

  “Andres, you are eighteen. The thought processes you make for yourself are always entertaining, but we are talking about Micah. Dig deeper, Hermano, but if you’re not able, I shall see to it myself,” Yuñior said.

  “You’re pretty bossy, you know that? All of a sudden, you learn to lick some fruit and get one bullet wound, so now you want to be all bad ass,” Andres chuckled, scowling at him.

  “The difference between you and me, little brother, is that I have always been all badass even before the bullet wound,” he said, looking over his shoulder as he walked away with Isabella. The little lady had been patient and waited for her time with Yuñior. Time was in short supply around the Delgado home. The hourglass had been flipped and the countdown had commenced. The grains of sand were becoming fewer and the pressure was on to finish before the last drop fell. They needed more sand.

  In his estimation, they were all about to run out.

  Chapter Six- Intensity

  In his mind, the situation was unfortunate. The more time Yuñior spent with Irena, the more he missed Diadra. He tried conversations on music, books, and current affairs and she knew nothing outside of pop culture. He sat at the kitchen table attempting to eat lunch, watching the petulant attitude of a spoiled grown woman, and he was bored beyond reason. An afternoon cleaning snake shit from the vivarium cages in the venom house was more appealing than spending an afternoon in Irena’s company.

  A light knock came at the back door. He looked up to see Zeta standing there. Irena could physically see the change in his body language when he got to his feet to allow the young woman inside. He was glad to see the young lady, and Irena didn’t like it.

  “Buenas tardes Zeta. You are back so soon,” Yuñior said. “Did you have a question of me?”

  “Sí, Señor, I was wondering if I may have a moment of your time,” she said, her head lowered in respect.

  “Bueno, I am having lunch. Have you eaten?”

  “No, Señor, I have not,” she said.

  “Tome asiento, por favor. I shall prepare you a plate,” he told her much to Irena’s surprise. Zeta too showed disbelief at the action as well. Her head popped up to look at him.

  “You want me to eat a meal with you at the same table?” Zeta said, shocked at how casually he treated her.

  “Of course. If you accept the position, you and I shall share many meals. You will know more about me than Irena here, who is scheduled to be my wife,” he said, showing a bit of teeth at the thought. “Sit. Sit. We shall dine together.”

  Zeta was hesitant as she pulled out a chair at the far end of the
kitchen table. The ratty clothing and worn shoes which adorned her feet made the young woman feel less than. Irena was dressed in designer clothing, her makeup was flawless, and the ebony hair was fashionably styled. Zeta, on the other hand, wore a hand-me-down dress that once belonged to her mother, which was too big in all the wrong places, her hair was oily and in need of a wash, and when Yuñior turned his head, she sniffed at her pits to make sure they weren’t stinky. Irena noticed the action and placed her finger under her nose. Yuńior’s back was turned and he missed Irena’s slight to his potential new right hand.

  “Here we go. The pork has been slowly simmered in fruit pulp, giving it a sweet taste, but the rice is very good,” he said, passing the plate. “I am not that fond of the sweets, but prefer the savory.”

  Yuñior noticed the young woman had intentionally sat at the end of the table away from them. He took his plate to the stove, adding a bit more rice, returning to the table, and sitting closer to Zeta. Forking a mouthful of rice into his face, he chewed slowly, encouraging her to eat.

  “Talk,” he said, cutting into the pork.

  “I would like the job, but I am uncertain if I can learn fast enough to be a help to you,” Zeta said, looking down the table at Irena. “The image I must project worries me. I do not know if I’m right for the position, Señor.”

  “You want the position, no?” he asked Zeta, who nodded her head. “Are you willing to work hard to learn everything that you need to know to be of service to me?”

  “I am willing to do these things,” she said.

  “Fine, start by looking at me when you talk to me. I have no desire to have a conversation with the top of your head,” Yuñior told her, changing the subject. “Zeta, tell me, how do you feel about romance novels?”

  “Excuse me Señor?”

  “I’m an avid reader,” he supplied, “and a friend gave me a romance novel about a yellow alien with a human woman. Intriguing concept, but romance is not the thing I enjoy reading. Do you like to read romance novels?”