Becoming the Czar

by Olivia Gaines

  Diadra pursed her lips as if she were totally past the stop sign sitting in the middle of the intersection out of petrol. “And who’s hood have you been in lately?”

  “You’d be surprised at some of the places I walk into and out of with all of my teeth,” he said. “Now stop dawdling or we shall be late, and Abuelita will not take kindly to that from anyone.”

  “Fine!” she said, sitting on the side of the bed and slipping on the black satin mid heel pump accented with tiny red roses. Diadra wore her hair up tonight. She closed the bedroom door and took Andres’ arm. As they walked down the hallway, she inquired, “May I ask how Micah is doing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, after his indoctrination with Angelique, how is he doing?” she asked, holding on to his arm.

  “Hell, he’s happy, how do you think he’s doing? Papa doesn’t treat Angel or Micah any differently than Yuñior or me. We all have roles to play and work to do,” he said.

  “And Tonda,” she inquired, stopping. “How is Tonda? I really feel that his situation is my fault. I feel so bad for him. Has anyone checked on him?”

  “Didi, might I caution you a bit before you ask anything further. That matter is family business. We do not discuss what happens in that house just as we do not discuss what happens in this one, or what happens in your flat in New York, entiendo?”

  “Entiendo. Please forgive my insolence,” she said, lowering her head.

  Andres whispered, “Tonda’s okay. Yuñior sent him a crew to work at his side. Tonda shall be fine. No one would dare kill him, or they would suffer not only the wrath of my father but also the cartel.”

  Diadra sighed, “There are so many things in this world worse than death.”

  “True, but if you’re having fun on the way out, the juice is so worth the squeeze,” Andres said as they reached the bottom landing of the stairwell. Diadra looked up to see her Ed, but on his arm was Irena.

  Irena glanced at her, placing her hand across Ed’s chest. He acted as if he didn’t see Diadra or feel the hand on him. Her heart raced as the eyes in the room stared at her, boring holes through the green dress. Andres tightened his grip on her arm.

  “If you give that witch the satisfaction of seeing a reaction in you, I will personally beat you within an inch of your life,” Andres whispered, smiling at her. “Look at me, touch my arm, and laugh.”

  She did as she was told. However, the evening didn’t go quite as she’d imagined. Neither did the next year. When all was said and done, she would look back on this night as the turning point in her relationship with both the Delgado and the Fernandez family. It would also be a night which sealed her fate.

  Chapter Fifteen- Punch

  In the middle of reeling from what felt like a gut punch to her solar plexus, the same feeling of fear which seemed to press its boot heel into her neck suddenly eased off. A calm came to Diadra when she realized, with a new respect for the situation, that she didn’t have a dog in the fight.

  “I’m a fling before the wedding,” she said softly to herself. “I’m the plaything before he has to become husband and father. I have money in the bank, have flown on private planes, and got a new apartment and a good job, all in less than six months. I can walk away now and be fine. I’ll be just fine. This is no longer my fight.”

  “Are you talking to yourself, Didi?” Andres whispered as guests arrived through the main doors, announced by a footman,

  “Yes, my time in your world is coming to an end. I’m okay with it,” she told Andres.

  “Or your time in our world is suddenly beginning,” he said, cutting his eye at her. Her attention was drawn to Micah and Angel who wore similar dinner jackets to Yuñior and Andres, but the green braiding on the jackets almost indicated ranks.

  She also noticed Micah’s bearing had changed. The kid who entered a room quietly to sit and mentally record everything he saw had died. In his place was a new alpha predator, who made a beeline for her. Diadra offered him her gloved hand.

  Micah placed his lips to the glove, bending slightly. “Might I have a word alone with the Señorita, Andres?”

  “Of course,” Andres replied, wandering off to mingle with the guests.

  Diadra turned to face him. She stared into the eyes of a young man, who earlier today was fearful and uncertain. In front of her now stood a man with focus in his eyes. The kid was gone. It made her want to cry even more.

  Out of earshot of nosey listeners, he lowered his voice, “Didi, are you aware that I have Asperger’s Syndrome?”

  “I am,” she said, fighting back the tears.

  “Papa has taught me to use my disorder to my benefit. My memory makes me almost like a computer,” he told her. “I also have the focus and determination of getting things perfectly right. I can’t help it. It’s who I am.”

  “You’re still only 14, Micah. At this age, you should be eager to see a boob, not..., well, I understand. I have nothing more to say. This is not my fight,” she told him.

  Micah took her hand. “When I was scared, you held my hand and calmed me. When Yuñior is scared, you calm him. We are your fight. This world wants to eat us alive and spit out our gristle, then wait for the next one to come along and do the same. You can be the difference in our world.”

  “Yes, but your world changes people, Micah. You’re 14, and I’m having a very adult conversation with you. Today, you lost what is supposed to be a beautiful experience between a young man and the woman he loves. You picked that woman from a lineup,” she said, wiping away the tear running down her cheek.

  “Please Didi, you should not shed tears for me,” Micah said taking her hand and squeezing it tightly. “Do you know that I can drive?”

  “What?”

  “I can drive almost anything with a motor,” he told her, “standard transmission trucks, cars, tractors. I can pilot my father’s yacht. I can fly his helicopter. All I need is one lesson to get the understanding of how the motor works. Then I can try it by myself and by the fourth time, I can handle the vehicle like I was born to it.”

  Diadra cocked her head, following the analogy and almost shocked at the accuracy of his description of how he learned. She knew exactly what he meant. She used her knuckles to swat away the last falling tears.

  Micah moved closer. They stood together as if they were about to dance. She’d never known him to smile and he did. It was creepy, scary, and almost sinister. Diadra shuddered as he spoke.

  “Angelique was patient with me as she took me through the steps,” he said. “Initially, not knowing what to expect...was unnerving. By the fourth time, I had figured out how to rev that motor as it was intended to run, and I got that baby to make noises.”

  He winked at Diadra and bowed over her hand, placing a kiss on her glove and stepping away as Angel walked up. He too kissed her hand and stood at her side waiting for Andres to return.

  “Micah thinks he’s a big man now that he got to use his penis in a woman instead of the hole he cut in his pillow,” Angel said. “I sure hope he doesn’t plan to give that nasty pillow to me. I don’t want it.”

  She pressed her lips together to hold back the laughter, but the joy in the honest moment was cut short. A man, tall and dark with salt and pepper hair almost waxed to his head was coming her way. The thudding of her heart told her the man was a threat.

  “Don’t panic, Diadra. Don’t panic. Look for an exit. Look for an exit,” she said softly as the man picked up his pace. The image of him fixed in her brain as she watched him approach. Fear told her to run. The woman her father raised told her to stay put.

  The man’s image disappeared as Eleon Fernandez stepped in front of her, taking Diadra hands and wrapping her arm around his. “Look up at me, smile and laugh because I have just told you the world’s funniest joke.”

  “Haaaahhha. You are so clever, Señor Fernandez!” she told him and patted his arm. “I shall remember that one to share with my father.”

  “The man,” he
told her, lowering his head, “is The Water Cobra of Paraguay. A nasty little snake with the fangs in the back of its mouth. It kind of chews on its prey versus a quick bite, allowing the toxins to melt down a body.”

  “Well, that description is terrifying,” she said, looking up at him with the fakest smile she could muster.

  “They were not invited, but cartel rules and Yuñior’s engagement means my home is open to the man as well as Eduardo’s for him to check on the well-being of the match and his daughter,” Eleon said, offering a belly gut laugh behind his whispered words. “What do you need from me to make those people go away?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I don’t want my grandson married to that girl. I made the mistake once with my daughter, not considering her happiness but what was best for the organization. I made another mistake not seeing my son for the monster inside and how broken he was,” Eleon added. “I will not make the same mistake with my grandson. He wants you. He has a plan. You’re part of the plan.”

  “My apologies, but Sir, I have no dog in this fight,” she answered.

  “Señorita, you are the dog in the fight,” he told her. “He’s given you information. He’s fed the information to you in pieces. Yuñior is counting on you to use what he’s told you to your benefit. More than likely he’s shared with you something he’s told very few people. Think hard; wait for the opportunity and use it well.”

  The dinner bell rang, and Andres materialized at her side. The seating arrangements had been altered and William Johnson sat on her left. Andres was to her right. Diadra barely touched the seven-course meal as she mulled over all of the information Yuñior had shared with her over the past month. The information in his home. The information in this home. His mother. His lineage.

  Lineage.

  His line.

  As in?

  As in.

  She looked up, and her eyes went down the table. He was staring at her. His lips moved slowly, and she read the words he’d spoken often.

  “We are here,” Yuñior mouthed.

  TO SAY IT IS DIFFICULT to understand a man’s intentions would be an understatement. She understood Ed better than she realized, and all the pieces were falling into place. All that she needed was an opportunity to embed the seed and let it grow. The opportunity presented itself when Diadra went to powder her nose in one of the downstairs water closets. Satisfied her hair hadn’t turned to a frizzy mess and her lipstick wasn’t smeared over her mouth, she opened the bathroom door and found Irena standing there.

  “Buena noches, Irena,” she said, offering a smile.

  “You are like the cucaracha, always showing up when company comes over,” Irena spat at her.

  “Wouldn’t that be the other way around since Anya sent my invitation and plane ticket to New York for me to be here, and you simply showed up?”

  “Damn, I truly hate you,” Irena added with a trademark pout. “I can still have you killed by simply lifting my hand.”

  “And to what end with that suit you? To have your fiancée pining over my loss? You’re really not a thinker,” Diadra said. “However, you’re not going to be satisfied until you feel like you have one-upped me, so instead of standing in the hallway making a spectacle of ourselves, let’s step outside, have a seat and chat.”

  “I have nothing to say to you,” Irena added.

  “Fine but coming at me like a stray cat is not serving you any purpose. Your attacks also have no punch,” Diadra said, walking past Irena and heading out the side door to the garden. The blue flame beckoned her forward and she took a seat on the bench.

  The side door opened again, once to let out Irena, and the second time, Willie Johnson came out the door. He said nothing but stood guard watching over the Sergeant Major’s daughter. As long as she was outside, he would stay outside as well.

  “Looks like you have your own bodyguard,” Irena quipped.

  “He’s a very close friend of my father’s,” Diadra said to Irena’s surprised face. “The world we live in is much smaller than we think. In our lifetime, we get so few opportunities to stand up and be counted.”

  “And what will you be counted as, Yuñior Delgado’s whore? Don’t you want more for yourself than this? I was notified by the daughters of these cartel members and dignitaries that my fiancée has brought his amante to Perona de la Mar. Can you imagine how that makes me feel?” Irena said, looking at her with disdain.

  “Your argument is not with me, but with him, Irena.”

  “No, my argument is with you, Diadra. You knew Yuñior was engaged. Yet here you are sitting in a green dress, laughing it up with my soon-to-be brothers by marriage and my impending father-in-law. Señor Fernandez never talks to me yet he’s telling you jokes,” Irena said. “I despise you.”

  Diadra’s eyes went to the bricks Eduardo had lain, each one carefully planted at an angle, guiding the patron of the garden’s steps to the flame. Like a moth to the flame she led Irena.

  “I apologize for being wrong to be the other woman in your relationship. For that, I am at fault, but unlike you, I love him. You love the idea of him because you’ve made no effort to get to know the man, but the brand he represents,” Diadra told her.

  “What do you mean brand? Like clothes?”

  “God bless your pointy little head,” Diadra said, backing up to break it down slower. “Do you know what this garden represents?”

  “A place to come and sit and hope to not be eaten alive by mosquitos,” Irena said, looking about as if the mosquitos heard her call.

  “It is a reminder of the women who have come before us,” Diadra told her. “On the walls, hanging in the halls, are portraits of Eva Peron and Isabel Martinez Peron. Women who fought for the betterment of other women.”

  “Si, I know who they are,” Irena said, looking at Diadra as if she were a cat waiting for the little red light to appear again on the floor for her to chase.

  “Eva and Isabel fought for the rights of women in Argentina and women’s suffrage, gaining them the right to vote. Irena, as his wife you will be in a position of power to change the lives of those who come after you,” she informed. “You can be a beacon of light for change for other women. What you are fighting is not me. Please decide now what you’re fighting for so when you take your wedding vows, your understanding of how you’re living your life has meaning and purpose. I’m not your enemy.”

  Irena straightened her back and stared at Diadra. “Entiendo. Just so we are clear, I still despise you,” she said, getting to her feet.

  Irena walked to the door and William Johnson held it open for her to pass. She turned back to look at Diadra. “May I ask what you’re fighting for in this whole scenario, Diadra the Parsons?”

  She offered a soft smile, “That is where you’ve always been wrong about me, Irena. I’m not fighting. Have a good night.”

  DIADRA DIDN’T WANT to dance. Although she’d spent a week learning to Tango and her inner thighs were sore from the effort, dancing wasn’t on her card for the night. Her head had begun to throb and the rich sauces from the food upset her stomach.

  “Andres, can you please escort me to my quarters? I’m not feeling well,” she said quietly.

  “Of course, may I get you anything?”

  “Maybe a tea to settle my stomach,” she said taking his arm.

  Quietly, they walked up the stairs. She was silent. “I’m proud of you,” Andres whispered.

  “I wish I could say the same for myself. I’m your brother’s side piece and everyone in that room tonight knew it. Irena showed up to make sure every pair of eyes in the room knew that I was his whore,” Diadra said, biting back the tears.

  “No, Diadra, Irena showed up to remind everyone she was the choice of the cartel,” Andres said. “She showed up because she was threatened by you as she should be.”

  “I’m no threat. I’m going to lick my wounds and go home,” she told him as they reached the door to her quarters. “Thank you, Señor Andres Delgado. I
had a lovely evening. I thoroughly enjoyed your company.”

  He saw the start of the tears. He didn’t do emotional. He didn’t care for emotional women, but she was alone for the moment. Andres stepped forward, wrapping her in his arms. Holding her closely to his chest, he started to laugh.

  “Oh great, now you’re laughing at me,” Diadra said, pulling away.

  “No, I’m laughing because I get to tease my brother and tell him I held his woman in my arms and offered her comfort,” Andres said, laughing. “He’s not going to like it, which makes it even more hella fun.”

  “You’re incorrigible!”

  “No, I’m something else,” he said with a wink. “Sleep well, Diadra the Parsons. I had a lovely evening as well.”

  Diadra entered the bedroom and locked the door. From the closet she removed her suitcase and began to pack her clothing. There was one more day on the ticket, but she’d had enough. She was going home tomorrow and get back to her life.

  The makeup was gone from her face, and she wrapped her hair before sliding into the bed. Before long, she was asleep. A restless sleep came as she tossed and turned, trying to climb out of a darkness that held her under. Struggling, she fought to become awake, opening her eyes to find herself in the arms of Yuñior.

  “You shall sleep in my bed, Diadra, whenever you are with me,” he said, lowering her to the mattress. The tears began to fall and, this time she couldn’t make them stop. He enveloped her in his arms, pulling her face into his chest. “I’m so proud of you, my love. So very proud of how well you did. Rest. Rest tonight. Tomorrow you may return home.”

  Yuñior didn’t ride with her to the airport. He bid her farewell from the foyer of the ancestral home his children were due to inherit. She couldn’t read the expression on his face, but his body language said more than she could verbalize.

  Diadra had nothing left to say.