by Amber Burns
“Daddy,” Lola springs into her father’s waiting arms, her lips touching the older man’s weathered cheeks, wrinkling her nose when he does the same and his greying whiskers get in the way. “Okay, stop. You’re embarrassing me!”
She turns to me, hands joined in front of that altered skirt of hers, a flush meandering over her olive complexion. Between the shortened uniform skirt, the colorful accessories over the lapel of her school blazer and the heels, I’m wondering how Lola gets away with it.
And then this display of father and daughter reminds me.
“Uncle Ry picked me up, Dad,” she beams, embarrassment coming and going like a teasing spring breeze. “Isn’t he awesome? Too bad it was after school.”
“Yeah,” my smile threatening to crack, “too bad.” I catch her father’s stare and nod my silent acknowledgement. If it hadn’t been for his message, I would have showered and changed from the journey.
“Your mother wanted to have a word with you, Lola dear. I barely could contain her from picking you up from school early.”
“Why didn’t you let her? I would have only missed a boring Art History lecture, a joke of a lab in Bio, and a pop quiz in history,” Lola sniffs. “Better yet, why didn’t you let Mom pull me out of counselling?”
“Why, what happened?”
Like a flame to oil, Custodio Lopez rears up at the hint of the sour mood wafting from his daughter’s expression. Lola launches into a tirade as soon as she’s given an inch – the same inch I refused her in the car, distracting her with tunes from the local pop radio station.
“She what?” Custodio’s nostrils open wider for his hard, fast breaths. His brown skin has turned red, the age spots pronounced over his dark flush. Before he can shout crazy things like ‘off with her head’ and ‘I’ll see to it that she’s chased out of this town’, I step in to save Astra.
“That’s a gross exaggeration,” I earn both father and daughter’s dour looks. “What Lola left out is how I barged in and interrupted her session with Dr. Olsen. Naturally, I was in the wrong.”
“Is this true, Lolinda?”
Lola ducks and faces her father’s scolding with only minimal interjection and apology. She shoots me a look that’s more embarrassed than angry, before sailing away, her heels clicking up the stairs and presumably towards wherever her mother is in the gigantic Lopez dwelling.
“Ryker, my son,” Custodio claps me on the back, grasping my hand in an even, tight grip. “Come with me to the den. We have much to catch up on.”
Fathoming what he means is useless, especially as I’d be discovering the cryptic words soon enough.
As I follow, I take the time to study him.
The epitome of my existence in Orange Compass, and like everything else that hadn’t changed, Custodio Lopez is every bit the man he used to be, and right down to his bespoke suit, slicked hair – albeit greyer and thinner – and his polished loafers.
“Sit,” he beckoned to the armrest across his, already pouring a glass of Armagnac in a second tumbler. I let the glass breathe, and he waits until I’ve taken a sip to speak. “When did you arrive?”
“Including the drive? Maybe three or four hours.”
“You needn’t have gone straight to the school. You could have come here and freshened up. Lola would have amused herself.” I smile at his placating gesture, hearing the uncertainty wavering in his comment. Fatherhood and advice-giving had never been, would never be Custodio’s strengths.
“Anyways, I would have liked to talk to you first. Nevertheless, you’re here now.”
I sip the brandy, the dried fruity notes bursting over my tongue, strengthening me for whatever Custodio had to say. I’m not naïve enough to believe the man wasted his time to open his schedule and his home to me, not unless he had something important to share.
Important to him, that is.
“You see, I have an old friend, Alexandros Castillo. A former business partner and a school mate who’s starting his own venture in natural resources trade. He’s got ancestral land that accesses a rich vein source… Well, never mind.”
“I mentioned you and Alexandros was very interested. He told me of his daughter and we got to thinking how good it could be if you two met.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing and I can’t control the laugh. It bubbles out.
“You’re kidding, right?” I rub the tingling heat from my eyes, waiting for the old man’s ribbing. It doesn’t come. Not that I knew him to have a funny bone: Deep down – way, way down, I figured everything he said was true.
Right down to the crap about me marrying a woman I’d never met for the sake of his business.
Tossing back his Armagnac I set the glass down and rest my elbows on my knees, gaze locking on the embers glowing in the hearth. I can feel the heat singe my face, but another sort of fire is clamouring up my throat.
“How could you possibly believe, for a second, that I would agree?”
“Is that a no?”
I snap my gaze at him. “No.” Custodio relaxes for the breath that it takes me to say, “It’s a hell no.”
“Ryker, be sensible.”
I shoot out of my seat, using the excuse of the stoking the fire with one of the logs propped in the grate to exercise the pulsing wrath prepping me to ring his skinny, fleshy neck. “I’m being insensible? I’m sorry; you’re the one who’s trying to arrange a marriage like its fucking normal.”
“Language,” Custodio frowns, whiskers quivering with his own anger. Like he had a right to be pissed off – he’s damn lucky I don’t use the poker for more creative purposes.
A good thump should knock sense into the bastard.
“Besides, it’s not like this match is unsavory. Campo’s eldest daughter is a summa cum laude graduate from Boston’s Business School. She’s also an accomplished musician and humanitarian. And I’ve been told she’s a virtuous young woman.”
I sneer at his wording. “Like I give a shit if she’s a virgin.”
“Ryker!” Custodio’s fists come down hard on both sides of the arm rest. His face is that mottled red. Combine that with his dark eyes, glowing from the fed fire and the twitching moustache and I’m reduced to the scared tween called to his house decades ago.
“Enough,” he says, control reigning once more, the remnants of his anger in his closed fists. “You will meet Campo and his daughter and that’s it.”
“I have no say,” I mumble, hand skimming the poker, palm wrapping around the end. “Is it always going to be like that?”
“I’ve already told him about you,” Custodio continues like he hasn’t heard my comment. “I supped with the man and his daughter prior to this change in pace, and I can assure you she’s both beautiful and pleasant. I’m sure nothing you’ve yet to see in your Hollywood.”
The more he talks, the more I’m picturing striking him to silence. I need to think, to digest his words; murder isn’t the sane response, but Custodio keeps talking…
A knock breaks his speech. Blissful respite is mine.
“Dad?” Lola pushes through, adjusting the pink binder in her hands and pausing when she notices me, perhaps the impression of her malignant lie of Dr. Olsen coming back fresh to her mind.
Good. She’s becoming too much like her old man.
“I can come back later.”
Custodio calls her back.
“But, I’m not interrupting anything right?”
Lola’s shy glance my way explains her uncharacteristic hesitance. An ugly thought froths up from the churning of my mind: If he could, would he force me to marry Lola?
I wouldn’t put it beneath him.
“We were just planning your party, my dear,” Custodio meeting Lola halfway this time, tucks his only daughter under his arm. Turning to me, he nods, his warm smile saying one thing, his chilly gaze another. “Ryker was telling me how much he’s looking forward to celebrating your party with his band.”
Mess up, and you’ll pay dearly.
&n
bsp; “Really?” Lola’s squeal brings me to face her. She claps her hands together and laughs a tinkling, heartfelt joy. “Are you really going to play at my birthday party, Uncle Ry? You and the rest of Tense Finger?”
That’s not what her father said, but the teen ran with it and now I had to pick up the pieces of this mess.
I share another look with Custodio. The older man is rigid and I realize, in the face of being sacrificed as chattel in his marital business deal, I have the upper hand.
Shifting my smile to Lola I wink. “You only turn sixteen once, right?”
And you can only get married once, legally that is. So I’d just have to find a way to get hitched before the Campos arrive.
Chapter 2
A bouquet of white tulips, a box of expensive German chocolates and I’m ready to tackle a certain school counsellor.
I wait for school to let up, kids clearing faster than usual for their Friday afternoon rituals. I called ahead to the receptionist in the counsellor’s room and asked to be pencilled in with Dr. Olsen for a late afternoon slot.
Being put on hold while the receptionist confirmed was the longest time for my nerves to be hammered out into thin, flimsy wires and rivalled with the Grammy nominations two years ago after Tense Finger’s eventual first win. And I thought that Grammy speech was hard…
Finally the receptionist returned and confirmed Dr. Olsen’s acceptance of the appointment. I had let out a whoosh of breath, a frothing excitement swallowing the apprehension I felt seconds ago.
I bypass the office this time, heading straight for the counsellors’ offices. The waiting room is cleared, and so is the other counsellor’s office.
Good.
We could use privacy for what I’m planning to ask.
She’s expecting me when I get there; the door open I stand by the threshold and knock. Astra glances up briefly, her glasses pushing back those red-brown waves from her face.
“Please come in, Mr. McBride,” she gestures to the seat in front of her.
She’s wearing a long-collared blouse today, an emerald green silk shimmering in the office lighting as she adjusts back in her swivel chair. My eyes drag back to her frown, noting I haven’t come empty-handed.
I bypass her offer of a seat, knowing I won’t be able to sit still across from her anyway.
“I hope these will stand in as a proper apology.”
Astra’s thin red brows hike up. “For?”
Had she forgotten already?
After leaving Custodio and his family last night, I checked into a B&B on Main Street, a family-run business of five bedrooms, three of which were occupied, and where I knew I wouldn’t be recognized.
I spent the night and the following morning pacing, counting the flowers on the worn carpet flooring around the practically untouched bed. I couldn’t close my eyes and not hear Custodio’s proposal, nor un-see Astra’s face peering up, her shirt parting to reveal the tops of her breasts…
I swallow at the fantasy of burying my face between her large tits, turning to hover over one of her pert nipples, my tongue wagging first one nub then the other to stand for my attention.
My shaft swells inside my jeans. I haven’t been this randy since…well, probably since I hit puberty and realized girls had this magical power over me. But Astra is proving to be the most powerful woman I have met.
Back and forth, and back and forth I paced until the idea grabbed me by the throat and balls, forcing me to bend to its will. Next thing I know I’m picking up the phone in my room and dialing out to the school, setting things into motion quickly.
“…but I can’t accept this,” she’s saying and I’m back in the quiet hush of the office, my offerings of sweets and flowers hanging between us.
“Why not?” I tighten my grasp on both chocolates and tulips.
“As I said,” she starts, as if she knows I’ve been dreaming of pleasuring her for the past twenty-four hours since our meeting. “It’s both unnecessary and inappropriate.”
“Why?”
Astra straightens in her chair, elbows on her armrests her hands swing round to clasp together over the same silver belt around her waist. “Well, unnecessary because the incident doesn’t need this level of apology and inappropriate because...well, because.”
“Because?”
“Mr. McBride, please.”
I cut her off. “Please what? I just want to know why my gifts are being rejected. I think I’m owed that much.”
I can see her swallow hard, her throat convulsing with the strain. When she doesn’t say anything I add, “At least give me a reason to take these back with me since their intended owner doesn’t want them.”
“Very well, then here’s your reason: I can’t accept gifts because it could be considered bribery.”
I chuckle to cover the nerves. Has she figured out what I’ve come for?
This early in the game, I’d stand no chance of convincing her. I try for nonchalance as I pick up the ball of our conversation. “And what exactly would I be bribing you with?”
“Getting Lolinda Lopez out of our sessions? Maybe clearing her with the vice-principal – I don’t know Mr. McBride.” Astra plucks her glasses from her head and wheels closer to drop eyewear and her hands on the papers in front of her.
“Is that what the other students’ families do?”
Her thinning mouth gives me all the confirmation I need.
Poor woman.
Under the mask of fire and ice, the lines of fatigue around her eyes and mouth become more pronounced. There’s a slump to her shoulders too, like she’s about to cave in on herself and fall flat asleep atop her work at any moment’s notice.
It had to be taking all her energy to stay in this room, to stay working at St. B&J and not scream and run for the shore, run towards sanity outside the school doors.
The crinkling of the bouquet’s wrapping paper and the crunching of box of chocolates reminds me to loosen the hot, fast grip of fury on Astra’s behalf.
“I really am sorry to decline, but I hope you can see what position I’m in. My hands are tied.”
I bet they are. My hands pull back the gifts, the whites of the tulips looking dull now and the chocolates through the clear plastic window that much less appetizing. On the outside I give her a smile I hope doesn’t relieve my tightness or the disappointment of watching my plan crumble to dust like a sandcastle in the coming tide.
Astra picks up her pen and resumes poring over whatever work I’d interrupted her from. I don’t leave.
“Yes, Mr. McBride? Is there something else I could help you with?” She looks up ten seconds later when she sees I’m not using the time to head out of her office.
“Yeah, there is actually,” if I could comically gulp and wipe off buckets of sweat, I would. Her shirt shimmers and shifts as she sits up, all ears…and eyes. Her gaze is pensive, and the weariness riding her shoulders seems to double the longer I take to explain myself.
“It’s just that I could use your help – ”
A cheery song stops my request dead and I lose my words, nerves pouncing over me. Astra mumbles an apology and draws her purse onto the table, the cheetah print surprising me. It’s so loud. Much too loud for the demure appearance her makeup and clothes and posture have suggested so far.
It intrigues me even more.
“Holly? What’s the problem?” she draws the phone from her ear and I hear her caller, a woman, hollering on the other end. Astra tosses me a quick look and turns her chair carefully to the side, her curtain of burnt red waves veiling her. “I can’t hear you, Holly. You’re too loud, and you’re speaking too fast, what’s the matter?”
Astra nods, bobbing her head several more times before saying, “Yes. Harry’s Gold Trades. Mhm, I know the place. All right, I’ll be there in fifteen.”
Clicking off, she turns and half-standing pauses. “That was an urgent call, as I’m sure you heard,” she tucks a strand behind her ear, hands clasping the phone. “If you don�
�t mind re-scheduling a meeting?” her tone implied we have nothing else to talk about.
That’s what she thinks.
Excuse me.” She grabs her purse, settles her phone in and hooks the lengthy brown leather strap over her shoulder.
Her white pencil skirt flares out in sheerer material at the bottom, revealing the ends of her pale calves, dainty ankles and bright green kitten heels matching her blouse. She stops by the corner mat I hadn’t noticed and bends to exchange her current footwear for her weather-appropriate boots.
