by A. J. Adams
Chloe really knew her way around a chopping board. While she talked, she made a salad of lettuce leaves, cherry tomatoes, black olives and cucumber slices carved into rosettes. Then she whipped up a dressing of minced onion, herbs, lemon juice and olive oil. A few slices created cherry tomato roses and spring onion flowers that decorated the top and sides of the dish.
“Are you a chef?” I asked her.
“Not really,” Chloe said vaguely. She rummaged in the freezer, produced some frozen baguettes and began assembling some garlic butter. “So, you lost your memory?”
“It’s coming back.”
Chloe looked up and grinned at me. “Did I hear you say, ‘Fuck off and mind your own business?’”
I decided I liked her. “It’s just that you’re the tenth person today to ask.”
“Yeah, well, this place is gossip central. The pack are telling everyone about the English Xena who doesn’t know who she is but who slaps down anyone who crosses her, including the jefe.”
“Ah.”
“Kyle never said a word, but Quique and Chema were round this morning, and they can’t resist my pancakes. I heard about the copper who slapped you.”
“Hmmm.”
“And I heard about the debrief.”
Chloe had her eyes on the garlic press, but I heard the quaver in her voice. She must have known what sort of work Kyle did for his brother, but I could see she didn’t want to admit to it – even to herself.
Chloe was wearing jeans and a long sleeved blouse, which was rather odd in this climate. Almost everyone, including the office staff, wore short sleeves. I’d spotted some red and white marks around Chloe’s wrists, and she had old burns on the back of her hands.
I had the feeling that Chloe had her own secrets, but I didn’t want to pry. She’d heard the gossip and had come running to help. As we were total strangers, I appreciated it. She’d also forgiven Arturo. This girl had a generous heart.
“Kyle was very sweet to me,” I said carefully. “Davis accused me of being a snitch, and Kyle not only cleared me, but he helped me get back some of my past.”
Chloe gave a small sigh of relief. “I’m glad,” she said simply. “Kyle never talks about work, but I know he was seething about the way you’ve been treated. And Chema and Quique were furious when they heard what Escamilla had done to you, and now they think Davis ought to be shot.”
It was good to hear. It would be nice to have some friends.
“They said you liked Arturo, but I didn’t believe them,” Chloe said apologetically. “I thought they were protecting me.”
It was an odd thing to say, but I’d seen those marks. “Because you’ve been through the mill yourself?”
Chloe’s eyes were fixed firmly on the butter again. “Hmmm.”
For a moment I blessed that frayed cable. The very little I remembered of Escamilla made me shiver; I hoped fervently the rest of those times were erased forever. By the tense way Chloe was beating the garlic into the butter, I knew she was expecting me to ask questions about a time she wanted to forget.
“Well, you’ve no reason to worry,” I said cheerfully. “I’m very happy to be here.”
Chloe looked up. “I’d say that was the shock talking, but I don’t want to be called a black-haired bint again.”
“Sorry about that.”
“I’ve been called worse.” Chloe was smiling. “Shall we rejoin the boys?”
“Sure.”
Arturo and Kyle were lighting a barbecue and had switched to beer. Unlike earlier, the conversation flowed well.
I discovered I had a talent for setting a table and folding napkins into swans, but grilling sausages wasn’t my thing. When Arturo handed me the fork and took Kyle inside to pick out some music that wasn’t mariachi pop, I stood and watched the morcilla burn.
“I thought it was supposed to be crisp.”
“Crunchy edges are good,” Arturo assured me.
“It’s burned to a frazzle,” Chloe said astringently. “And I was only in the loo for a minute.”
“Did you remember to turn over the garlic bread?” Kyle asked.
“Whoops.”
And that’s how I got banned from cooking.
Despite the fact that I turned dinner into a funeral pyre, we had a blast. It was late when Kyle and Chloe left, and the stars were out. We were sitting on the terrace, with me on a lounger and Arturo ensconced in his peacock chair, his feet on the table and a beer in his hand. He looked totally relaxed. At peace, even.
I was mildly tight, and the pool beckoned. “Arturo, I’m going in. If the wine hits me as I hit the water, will you fish me out?”
I dropped the batik wrap, ran to the pool and went for it. In that split second I was in the air, hovering between land and water, I heard Arturo’s call. “Hang on!” and then I hit the water. I came up, touched the far side, my body flipped over automatically, and then I was heading back. Seconds later I touched the side at Arturo’s feet. He reached down a hand and pulled me out.
“Sirena, for God’s sake!”
I saw to my surprise that he was upset. “What?”
“You should be more careful!” He was hugging me close, getting soaked himself.
“Arturo, you were sitting right there. If I were in any trouble, you would have rescued me.” I didn’t see the problem.
“Yes, but –” And then he hugged me. “Of course.”
And that’s when I realised that Arturo expected to be distrusted. He’d spent so much time building up his cartel rep that it had become part of every facet of his life. For a moment I felt sorry for him. It wasn’t fair.
Still, pity is an ugly thing to receive, so I put my arms around him. “Seeing I am more sober than I thought, how about a race?”
“Ten laps?”
“Sounds good to me.” I put a hand on his t-shirt, leaning in close. “I think you’re stronger than I am. A longer race gives you a slight advantage.”
“Yeah. That was my thought, too.”
“Let me help you with this tee.” Then I tugged the t-shirt up, twisted it neatly so I trapped his arms in it, and left him standing there as I dived into the water. It was a nasty trick that got me a half lap start, but the bugger still beat me.
He was laughing as I finished two strokes behind him. “Solitaire, you cheat!”
“You set the length so you’d win. I just evened the odds.”
“Your flip turns are faster than mine. I had to make up for it.”
He was laughing at me, his brown eyes sparkling with fun. The cool, silky water, the balmy air and the scent of roses drifting over from the far side of the house were intoxicating. I swam a little closer, and then he was kissing me. I have to say, sex in the pool is just as much fun as it sounds.
After that first heavenly day I thought I had it made. Arturo gave me an office of my own down the hall from his, and I spent the next few days learning to fit in. I threw my main energy into studying Spanish, reckoning that it would be the foundation of everything else. I turned out to be an efficient learner, so we were whipping through Luis’s books. Dealing with Eva, the maids and the gardeners, including the two new staff Luz had hired, meant I was practicing constantly, which also helped.
Then I got Luis to open up about the ins and outs of the Mexican education system. From what I learned, corruption was so rife that teachers bought their jobs in order to secure a pension later in life, were impossible to fire and were therefore often incompetent. It wasn’t a total surprise, because by that point I’d discovered that of the house staff, only Luz could read and write properly. The rest could write their names and struggle though a simple note, but that was about it.
Considering the environment, I decided that getting the foundation up and running was going to be a real challenge. Slow and steady was the safest way to go. I had to be sure I had a handle on local mores, or I’d end up throwing away the foundation’s funds.
Although Eva was barely literate, I soon found she was hard-w
orking and sensible, so I sent her off to talk to her friends to find out which schools and teachers were good, how to find out which kids had paid bribes to pass exams, and which were clever but too poor to go to school, and so on. In short, I got her to be my PA.
It was a huge success. Eva loved her new job, and it meant I didn’t have her fluttering around me every time I got changed.
I also planned my own education. As Arturo was clearly the unofficial local kingpin, I began listening in at mealtimes and got an excellent overview of how things worked. It also gave me some serious insight into Arturo’s business. I knew he farmed and traded coke, and I wasn’t surprised to learn he was into a dozen sidelines: clubs, hotels, garment production, transportation and even utility management. What he lived for, though, was stock and currency trading. When his Tab beeped at various times of day, everyone was quiet because the jefe was busy growing his portfolio in New York, London or Tokyo.
Arturo was delighted I showed an interest, and when we were alone, I could ask anything I liked, and he’d do his best to educate me. As he was also furthering my experience in the dungeon, I was loving my new life, but that heavenly first week ended with a disaster of a family party.
The event was scheduled for lunchtime on Saturday. Luz explained that there would be two dozen tots and teens and three dozen adults. Arturo’s family tend to have lots of kids, and they all hang together. Also, while it was pegged as a lunch, it would go on till supper.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been to a party like that,” I told Luz, “so why don’t you run it and I’ll learn from you?”
Luckily Luz is a sweetheart, and we were getting along well. She drew out the party plans, picked a menu they hadn’t had in a while, warned me on pain of death not to help with the food prep, and told me to set up the kiddy section.
While the gardeners set up tables and chairs, I blew up dozens of balloons, hung streamers, polished the swing set, and set out water wings, floats and a raft of toys. Arturo certainly took his duties as uncle seriously; he had more toys than a shop.
At ten minutes to two, a few minutes before official kick-off time, Arturo found me pumping up an inflatable crocodile with a short tail and big Disney style teeth.
“Ah, I see you’ve met Cervantes!”
“You’re a Quixote fan?”
“No, he’s named after the family dentist.”
Arturo was wearing shorts, a tee and a floppy hat that announced, ‘I love Miami’ but despite the party gear and the banter, he was looking a little tense.
“You okay, Arturo?”
“We’ve got some extra people coming.”
As Luz had catered for an army, and Arturo knew it, it had to be something else. “People you don’t like?”
“Not exactly,” Arturo tried to sound nonchalant. “I had no idea they were coming. They just turned up at the gate.”
On cue, a group of people came sauntering round the corner of the house. Two short, flashily dressed men – definitely thugs – and six glamour girls who looked like they’d come straight off a cat walk.
“Pyotr and David!” Arturo was welcoming. “It’s been a while! Good to see you!”
There was lots of backslapping and then, to Arturo’s clear horror, Pyotr waved at the girls announcing, “Arturo, my friend! We’re having a special! Buy one get one free!”
“And as you’re our best customer,” David boomed, “We brought you a couple of extras.”
“On us, for a week!” Pyotr grinned.
No wonder Arturo was sweating.
“Tio Arturo!” Two kids came running over, aiming directly for their favourite uncle.
“Arturo!” A lanky woman with glossy brown hair styled in a pixie cut swooped on him. Her voice was breathy and high like a little girl. From the familiar looking high cheekbones and large eyes, I recognised her as one of Arturo’s sisters. “How are you? We missed you!”
“Julia!” Arturo was hugging her while looking over her shoulder at me. His eyes were pleading. No doubt he was expecting a hissy fit, but I’d heard of his call girl set-up from a dozen people already.
I smiled at David, Pyotr and the girls. “As you can see, we’re having a party. Come and let me pour you all a drink. I’m Solitaire, by the way.”
As we walked to the bar, I heard Julia’s high voice. “Oh Arturo! What’s this I hear about you with yet another guila? What’s wrong with nice girls?”
From that moment on, people arrived in waves. I hadn’t had a chance to speak to Arturo, but from his smile I could see how relieved he was I’d not lost it. As it was, there was plenty of grief going round.
First of all, I got a text that said, “Good times!” that came with a photo of me looking bashed up. I’d seen myself like that before in dreams and in those weird mirror reflections. Escamilla must have taken it after beating me up and sent it to his friends. A minute later I got another one, this time of me spread-eagled in that four-poster. I looked sick, sore and exhausted. From the looks of it, someone at the party had put two and two together and thought it would be fun to rile me up. I deleted both messages and decided to ignore them. Compared to Arturo’s sisters, sexts were nothing.
Loli was a copy of Julia: a little shorter and a little quieter but with the same eyes, cheekbones and penetrating voice that broadcast her displeasure. Arturo’s female relatives made it perfectly plain that there were three types of women: family who were above criticism, servants who were respected but held at a distance, and sluts who were beneath contempt. So while family were swooped on and fussed over, and Luz got smiles and compliments on her cooking, the bonus girls and I were invisible.
I didn’t mind too much, because I’d been expecting some resistance. The girls were jealous, but they’d get over it. So I acted the hostess by doing scutwork: clearing away empties, gathering dirty plates and dealing with ashtrays.
I was loading the dishwasher when Arturo came in.
“Sirena! Enough work already. Come and join the party.” His arms were around me, hugging me close. He smelled of barbecue smoke, cigars, beer and chlorine, but he was grinning. Surrounded by his family, Arturo was happy.
“Arturo.” A young bloke with his right wrist in plaster walked in. Unlike the other guests who came with covered dishes and bottles, he was carrying a briefcase. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need some papers signed before I go.”
Arturo sighed. “Sure.”
The young bloke gave me a cold look and then nodded at me like he knew me. I was fairly certain I hadn’t seen him before, but there had been so many people in and out of the house that I decided he must have been at one of Arturo’s breakfasts. I nodded back and finished loading the dishwasher.
By the time I was done, Arturo was signing the last document. He looked at me, hesitated a second and then waved at skinny neck.
“Solitaire, this is Mateo. He’s an accountant and auditor.”
“We met in England,” Mateo said coolly.
I’d been so busy that I’d managed to push recent events out of my mind. Now, confronted by a bit of the past that remained hidden from me, I felt my stomach lurch. It was eerie not remembering him.
I didn’t let it show though. I smiled and said, “It’s been a while.”
Mateo looked a bit surprised and then shrugged. “Yes, hasn’t it?”
He sounded a little off, and I thought it was because he remembered me at Escamilla’s. I had a sudden impulse to ask him what he’d seen there, but as I started to invite him for a drink, Arturo hustled him to the door.
“You’ve got work to do, right, Mateo?”
Arturo waved Mateo off and turned to me. “He can’t stay,” he said quietly. “He’s hijo extramatrimonial, one of my father’s illegitimates.”
“Oh? But he works for you?”
Arturo shrugged. “He has a way of putting everyone’s back up. I don’t care, but the girls don’t like him being about.”
It didn’t surprise me. “And dishing me and those party girls up
is enough for one day?”
Arturo grimaced. “Ay sirena! I thought maybe you’d not noticed.”
“Yeah, six hotties delivered to your very door and me not notice.”
Arturo looked at me thoughtfully, “Am I in trouble?”
“Only if you take them up on their offer.”
Arturo grinned. “You’re the best.”
“Let’s see if your sisters will see it that way.”
Chapter Seventeen: Arturo
Solitaire might have been a smash hit with the men, but she was fucking awful with my sisters. Of course Loli and Julia hated Solitaire on sight, but if Solitaire had made nice, they probably would have decided she was all right. I mean, Chloe liked her well enough, and she’s not really a people person.
Anyway, Loli and Julia took one look at Solitaire and decided she was no different from the women I usually have. Solitaire took one look at the united front, stuck her nose in the air and made it clear she didn’t give a shit.
They gave each other some super polite compliments and then determinedly ignored each other. It would have been okay except that Loli looked up as Solitaire was passing by and handed her an empty plate as if she were a maid. I looked at my girl’s icy expression and hastily took it from her before it became a ballistic missile. Then I quietly took Solitaire into the rose garden gazebo so she could cool down.
“I won’t say she’s a bitch,” Solitaire muttered, “but only because I like dogs.”
“I told you it would take a while,” I said gently.
Solitaire paused, and then shrugged and smiled. “No problem, Arturo,” she said airily. “I’m learning a lot of things Luis hasn’t taught me. Is guila ruder or politer than chiputa?”
No, it wasn’t going well.
Family parties are not business, but as most of us are involved at least partially, it’s inevitable that we talk some shop. The rumour about Songbird was now going round like wildfire, and everyone was a bit edgy.
