“No Señor, I do not,” she said, looking him in the face, then lowering her gaze to the plate. Zeta paused, wanting to say more, and then understanding she needed to say more so he could understand who she was. “I prefer to read thrillers myself. Mi Papa, was a big fan of the John Grisham. Personally, I prefer Latin American authors and recently read Angela Bacerra’s, Algún día, hoy. Enjoyable, but not my cup of coffee.”
“Why not?” he asked, sincerely wanting to know.
“No one died in it,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “I like a bit more grit in my stories. If I am reading to escape the doldrums of my life, the book should be exciting with the twists and the turns. I want to be entertained, but not expect the solution to be in the face. Does that make sense?”
“Your English is very good, and yes, that makes perfect sense to me,” he said, taking out his phone. A thought had crossed his mind several times and the same trouble-making thought had returned. This time, he acted upon it. “You will need to be outfitted for a life at my side. One moment please.”
He punched a single digit, listening to the phone ring on the other end and a male voice answered.
“Well hello tall dark and scary; how the fuck are you doing?”
The voice was loud as it slid outside of the device, making Irena and Zeta’s eyebrows arch in surprise at the person on the other end speaking to Yuñior that way.
“It would appear that I am in need of your services. Do you have a passport?” Yuñior asked.
“I sure as hell do and am ready to flap that bitch anywhere you want to send my handsome ass,” the voice said.
“Are you free to come to Colombia for a few days?”
“Me. In Colombia. At your house?”
“Yes, Tim, is that feasible, and if so, how soon can you get here?”
“Depends on whether I’m flying commercial or you’re sending a plane to bring me where you are.”
“The flight will be commercial. I shall have a ticket for you within the hour so you can fly out in the morning. Plan to stay through the weekend,” Yuñior said.
“Ed, you’re serious, aren’t you? Me. In Colombia. At your home with the coffee and cocaine fields. Oh shit, this is major,” Tim said excited and fanning himself.
“See you tomorrow, Tim,” Ed said, disconnecting the call. He looked up at Zeta. “My stylist shall arrive tomorrow and began to suit you for working at my side. You will be taken to Bogotá for shopping and outfitting. Are there any questions of me?”
“No Señor,” Zeta said, trying to hide her smile.
“Good, finish your lunch. I have to go and break the news to my father that we are having a guest,” he said, finding himself laughing.
Tim, a very gay man and the cousin of Brody Johnson, was just the thing Yuñior needed to lift his spirits. Just because he couldn’t leave Colombia due to work loads and the hole in his shoulder didn’t mean life had to be boring. Tim was the perfect balm to add a bit of unpredictability to his well-ordered life. He also shared the news with his brother Andres.
“YOU ARE BRINGING WHO?” Andres asked, thinking he misheard his brother. “Your stylist is coming here, to Las Tierras, to outfit coffee bag dress girl? Oh this should be rich. Does Papa know?”
“I’m about to tell him now,” he said.
“I’m coming with you. I can’t wait to see his face when you drop this jewel,” Andres said, grinning from ear to ear.
“Andres, don’t you have someone to rob or threaten with bodily harm? I mean seriously, aren’t you supposed to be planning to rob someone so I can get a bigger plane?”
“Oh, that is already in the works. What I want to see right now is Papa’s reaction to a houseguest. Oooh, this means Coffee Bag Dress Girl’s Mama will have to open your wing for this man. I assume it’s a man...”
“Tim is a man,” he replied, smiling. “And her name is Zeta Marin. Please call her by the given name.”
“Yeah. Yeah. I hear you, but I also know that smile. I know that smile. Oh shit, this is going to be soo good. Vamanos. Let’s talk to Papa.”
“Andres, I don’t need you to come with me.”
“You are about to tell our father that you’re flying in a gay man to stay in this house to transform coffee bag dress girl from a shrinking caterpillar into a moth. I’m not missing this for nothing,” Andres said, damned near running and knocking on the office door of their father. “Papa, Yuñior has done a thing!”
“Andres, you are worse than a woman,” Yuñior said, entering the office and staring into his father’s dark eyes. Suddenly, the wonderful idea didn’t seem so wonderful after all.
“Yuñior, what have you done?” Eduardo asked.
“Zeta will need to be styled and outfitted, Papa. I am requesting a commercial plane ticket for Timothy Johnson, my personal stylist, for arrival tomorrow morning at Las Tierras,” Yuñior said. “Since this is official business, would it be possible for Marianna to order the ticket for me?”
“You are bringing this man here. To Colombia. To our home?”
“Sí, Papa,” he said, knowing clarification was required. “I’m not aware of Zeta possessing any identification needed to travel outside of the country. Until I’m able to secure documentation, it is easier to bring Tim here. Moving forward, I shall have separate accounts for Zeta to operate from regarding my affairs.”
“And why not send your plane to pick him up?”
“It is more cost efficient to have him fly commercially, plus Irena is visiting and if I go to the US, it may be a week before I return home,” he said flatly, arching his brows.
“I do not approve of outsiders coming to Las Tierras. It is not safe for our people when you think of vaccinations, immune systems and the like. What they bring in can be deadly. Please keep this in mind, Yuñior. First Brody the Johnson and his family, then your amante with the girl who talked to the wall tiles, and now this man. It is not our way,” Eduardo cautioned.
“Understood Papa, but times are changing, and we must change or be left behind,” Yuñior said.
“Don’t walk into my office and proceed to tell me about change, mijo. Moving too fast can be costly, and a great number of things out in that world don’t belong in ours. As a future Czar, the health and well-being of our people come before anything we wish for ourselves,” Eduardo said.
“My mental health and well-being are also at stake here Papa. I am saddled with that insipid woman who hasn’t read a book since she was forced to in whatever schooling she’s received,” Yuñior bantered. “I’ve attempted to have a conversation several times, and honestly, it is more stimulating to talk to Isabella.”
Eduardo said nothing.
He too had reached the same point when he was at Yuñior’s age and he too had not been allowed to leave Las Tierras. The bullet wound needed time to heal and many of the things his son wanted to do were off the table for a few weeks. Traveling to Chicago, Seattle, and Mazatlán last week had taken a toll, and his son had returned looking peaked. This stylist– Zeta, he understood was to occupy his son’s mind while he healed.
“Mijo, do you want Diadra to return and stay for a while?” Eduardo asked and Andres’ mouth dropped.
“Papa, thank you for the generous offer, but it is not proper to do so,” Yuñior responded to his father’s surprise. “I cannot toss aside all of our customs to fit my moods. Plus, she has a career. We have a schedule. I must honor our agreement. Besides, this is my time with Irena. I must honor the agreement there as well.”
He said it in such a way that Marianna, who seldom broke a smile, found herself blushing as Yuñior rolled his eyes at the words of honoring his agreement. She found it refreshing to see the young Czar, her cousin, exhibiting so many emotions when before he operated at one speed—deadly. She liked this new side of the young man.
“Yuñior, this Tim, will he be able to trim my ends while he is here?” Marianna asked.
“I’m sure he would be happy to help with whatever that is,” Yuñ
ior said, shaking his head. He wasn’t familiar with female grooming terms and was in no immediate hurry to learn any of it either.
Tonda spoke up, “I’ve been wanting a new look, tambien. Could he, you know, do for me what he did for you? I like the style.”
“I would have to let him know ahead of time,” Yuñior said.
Eduardo thought about his stylist who was the love interest of Saxton the Blakemore’s brother. The threesome he didn’t understand but they made it work. It had been months since he’d last seen Jason and could use a trim himself. He also admired the style his son now sported and the shirts that did not allow the visibility of Yunior’s bright yellow tattoo. The idea of allowing Tim to purchase a few pieces made the idea sound better and better to Eduardo.
“Please call this Tim and ask if he would be willing to take care of the entire family when he arrives. I’m certain my wife would love a bit of pampering,” Eduardo said, “and he will be compensated for his time.”
“Where is he flying from?” Marianna asked.
“Columbus, Ohio,” Yuñior said.
A couple of clicks on her computer, and it was done. “It is an open ended ticket on the return, should he need more time to complete all the tasks.”
“I’m sorry to ask, but is the ticket first class?” Yuñior asked.
“Yes, it is,” Marianna replied. “Should it not have been?”
“No, I think Tim is going to really enjoy those warm nuts,” he said, laughing before he finished getting the words out.
Eduardo saw the amusement in his son’s face, which was very unusual. He knew then, beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’d agreed to a thing that he was going to regret. Yuñior looked at his father with the full-on frontal grin, who then looked at Tonda who in turn looked at Andres.
All four busted up in laughter.
“Oh shit! The kittens are in danger. We aren’t ready for this, are we?” Eduardo asked.
“Not even remotely close,” Yuñior said, laughing harder, “but it shall be how do you say, hella fun! I shall call Tim the Johnson and share your request.”
“NO TIM, WHAT I AM ASKING is my family would like the benefit of your services,” Yuñior tried to explain.
“What do you mean your family? Am I coming to some kind of over the fire ritual where three donkeys are going to pull me apart while everybody is sitting around sniffing white lines of your finest off an album cover?” Tim asked.
“You are being dramatic and annoying. Stop it,” Yuñior said.
“Well, explain what you mean, Ed!”
“My father’s assistant, Marianna, would like her ends trimmed. I assume she is speaking of her hair. God, at least I hope. Tonda, by father’s personal guard would like an update on his look. My stepmother, the Lady of the Lands– my father would like you to give her a pampering session, and of course, you will be compensated for the time,” Yuñior said. “What I need from you requires a bit more. I have a new assistant that would benefit from your good eye and styling ability.”
“So, you’re saying I need to bring my whole kit and kaboodle?”
“I don’t know what is this ka..kabooble.”
“Kaboodle. All my hair supplies, moisturizers, masks, waxes, and all that good stuff,” he said, “You sure you can’t send the plane. I may not be able to get all that stuff through customs.”
“Pack it in your luggage and I will meet you at the airport,” he said.
“All right then, Mr. Boss Man. Seriously, you’re bringing me to your home with your family. You trust me that much?” Tim said.
Yuñior held the phone, allowing the quietness to hover between them, wanting to say more than he should. He valued Tim and the things he’d shown him. He also needed his expertise to get Zeta on her feet and fast. Instead of veiled words, Yuñior Delgado spoke from the heart.
“Tim, I made the frittata for my lady and she was impressed. I also mastered the lesson you taught on the peachy fruit, and she was extremely satisfied,” he said in a low voice. “I trust you which is why you are afforded this opportunity not given to many. My father...well, think of me, but ten times more intense.”
“Oh shit, I don’t know if I want to come now,” Tim said, flopping down on the couch on his end.
“Everyone is looking forward to your visit. It shall be fun,” Yuñior said, imagining Tim on a horse. Yuñior was still laughing when he hung up the phone. He turned to find Andres sitting across the room watching him.
“You’re evil, Yuñior Delgado. Evil as hell,” Andres spoke softly, admiring the subtle moves his brother was making to enact change in his world.
“Yeah, but none of us are going to be bored over the next few days,” Yuñior said, laughing again. “You’re going to like Tim. He likes to shop as much as you do.”
Chapter Seven- Potency
There was no way in the green valleys of his ancestors Yuñior would spend three, four, five or even a week filled with days in the company of both Tim and Irena. The tenuous relationship he had with Jesus didn’t afford Yuñior enough Hail Mary’s to support the dark thoughts running through his head. It was needless to mention to anyone how much Irena’s petulant pouting perturbed his person even now, as she sat opposite of him in the back seat of the vehicle, throwing a hissy fit over what, at this moment, he wasn’t sure.
“I don’t see why I’m not allowed to stay and meet this stylist of yours. What if I wanted an update on my look or tips on how to do my makeup?” she asked, poking out her bottom lip.
“Each time you do that, I am reminded of a horses’ arse. Do you think it makes you appear endearing to me, Irena?’
“Yuñior, you are an asshole,” she said to him. “It befuddles my mind why you believe that I am supposed to cater to your every whim, when you won’t take the time to teach me what pleases you.”
“You have only sought to garner what pleases me in bed,” he said, looking out the window and praying that Gunther would drive faster. “I’ve tried to speak with you on many subjects, books, movies, cultural references, yet the only thing you wish to read are fashion magazines.”
“The other stuff is boring,” she whined.
“Then do not argue with me on my lack of enthusiasm to be in your company,” he stated.
Irena turned in the seat to stare at his profile. “Did I happen to mention you’re an asshole? You know what truly makes me angry with you? This stylist you have flown in, I’m certain first class, to perform a miracle on a girl from the village. She, as you have said yourself, will know everything about you. It’s not fair.”
“Irena, truly if you desire to be my wife in every sense of the word, are you prepared to pick up my dry cleaning each week in Medellin? Will you be willing to attend meetings with me, take notes, transcribe the same notes, make follow-up phone calls, schedule meetings, or order a gift basket for John McNally’s birthday?” he asked, still looking out the window.
“No, I don’t want to do any of that stuff,” she said.
“That is the reason I need an assistant. Since you mentioned fairness, it is unfair of you to want to inject yourself into the situation between my business and your temper tantrums and jealousy,” he said. “It’s not cute.”
“My jealousy...that’s rich,” she countered.
“Your jealousy kidnapped the wrong woman, had her drugged. and ended up getting me shot. I have no time for these childish antics,” he said.
“Then teach me, Yuñior. Teach me to be the woman you need,” she said, reaching over and taking his hand. Each time she touched him, sparks shot up and down her arms. The moment in the pool was the most intimate they’d ever been, and she envied Diadra for knowing what he was like as a lover.
Yuñior pulled his hand away, looking down at the divider and picking up a small container of hand sanitizer to spritz his fingers. “Irena, did you know that I am a bit of a germaphobe?”
“Is that some kind of sexy role play you like to have? Does it include sticking things in your culo?” she a
sked innocently, making Gunther chuff, trying to pretend he didn’t hear what the young lady said.
The sigh was as loud as the exasperation that he currently felt. “Irena a germaphobe is a person who is afraid of germs. That is why you never see me shake hands or be overly affectionate with hugs and kisses,” he said.
“You are always hugging and kissing Isabella. She is a walking example of a germ. I think it is your excuse to keep people at bay, yet this girl from your village, you’re investing time, energy, and money to shape her into what you want. It boggles my mind to think you’re not willing to do the same for me,” Irena spoke softly.
“The role you have been assigned in my life is to look pretty on my arm and bear me children. If, and this is a big if, you can put your magazine down and read up on the companies I work with, or even a book not related to fashion, then I will know what you offer is sincere.”
Irena stomped her foot. For each step she made forward to earn his respect, he pushed her back three more. The battle was being lost and she didn’t like it one bit.
“Tell me, Eduardo Delgado, Yuñior, then why are we even bothering with this charade?” she asked.
“Because we have no mutherfucking choice, Irena! When are you going to get that through your head? We go through the motions, spend some time, create a few memories, and if we are lucky, by the arrival of our first child, we may, accidently like each other,” he snapped, leaning forward in the seat. “How much further to the goddamn airport?”
“Ten minutes, Jefe,” Gunther called back.
“You make it sound like a death sentence,” she said, biting back her tears. “I just want you to like me.”
“I do like you, Irena,” he said softly.
“You have a funny way of showing me.”
“You are alive, are you not?” he said, offering her the full-on toothy smile. Irena shrank against the door. Her eyes searched his face, then she gazed into his eyes, spotting a coldness there she’d never seen before, and for a brief moment, her reaction wasn’t as she expected.
Becoming the Czar Page 7