Up Too Close

by Stein, Andrea K.

  The crowd yelled in approval at every song.

  CeCe and René danced, ate the paella, and René sampled the poncha and downed a few more Santo Graals until his head swam. The rain came and went, the sun set, and in a flash, it was past midnight.

  Chapter Twenty

  Day Thirty-One

  0010 May 13

  Zarco Compound, North of Horta

  René surveyed his guest bedroom inside Casa de Zarco. The dark-paneled room’s floor was covered with outdated, thick red carpet. Red curtains covered the windows, and the bed creaked on rusted springs. A small lamp on the nightstand glowed an orangey light.

  René sighed, a little drunk, but content. He and the Tourbillon had gotten CeCe and Chienne to safety.

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Come in,” René said.

  The door opened and in stepped Zarco, master of the house and father of the woman he loved. “Are you settled in?” he asked.

  René stood. Suddenly nervous. “Oui. I am very nice, merci beaucoup.” Damn, he’d fallen into French. He switched linguistic gears. “Yes, sir. Thank you, very much, sir.”

  Zarco chuckled. “No need to be nervous, my friend. I am the father, I know, and I also know about your past exploits. The yachting community is very small, and José knew all about the famous Captain René Baudoin. In fact, he knew your grandfather as well. It is said that Phillipe Baudoin hated the land so much, that when he stepped off his ship, he would go looking for both a fight and a woman to take back to his ship. José’s father actually had to throw him out of Peter’s Cafe Sport several times.”

  “Grand-pere settled down eventually,” René said.

  “And it was your grandmother who accomplished such a thing,” Zarco said. “If the stories are true.”

  “I found their painting in the harbor.” René sighed before he could stop himself. “My grandparents did come here, and painted their square nearly sixty years ago. I plan to touch it up and paint my own tomorrow. For CeCe and me.”

  “For CeCe, sim,” Zarco said. “Hearing you say her name, it pains me.”

  René steeled himself for a fight. Still, he had to say, “As I told your sons, what CeCe and I have is between us. But I will tell you what I told them …I am not playing with her heart. I am serious about her.”

  Zarco grinned, stepped across the room, and grabbed René by the scruff of his neck. If the powerful old man hadn’t been smiling, René might have put up his fists. Instead, he let the older man grab him.

  “And that is what I wanted to hear. I want you to be serious about her. In the old days, men owned their daughters. I would have had all the say about her destiny. Now, I have none. She is her own woman.”

  “She is,” René said. “I hope she loves me as much as I love her.”

  Zarco moved back. “Ah, for a man, that is always the hope. When we love, we love all the way. And to lose our loved one is to lose an arm. Good night, Captain Baudoin.”

  “And good night to you, Monsieur Zarco,” René said.

  Zarco thundered happily, “I am not the monsieur, I am simply Zarco. And while I like you, Captain, I do have my dogs roaming the halls. A rich man is wise to keep large dogs in his house for protection. For your own sake, do not wander up to my daughter’s room.”

  René recalled CeCe saying something about Dobermans and Chienne. “Don’t worry, Zarco. I’ll not disrespect you.”

  CeCe’s father nodded and left.

  René sat back down on the bed and let out the breath he’d been holding. A powerful man like Zarco, in his youth, must’ve been nearly insufferable. Which is why CeCe’s mother must have left, and why CeCe had left. But then, things seemed to have changed.

  René took off his clothes and slipped under the sheets, enjoying the clean linen, though the mattress springs poked him in several places. He tossed around, the springs protesting noisily, until he found a soft place that didn’t feel like a bed of nails.

  He turned off the orangey light.

  Not five minutes later, the door opened again. It was too dark to see, but René heard the soft padding and breathed in the womanly smell of CeCe coming to him. She climbed into bed and slipped a hand down to his groin. His erection grew immediately.

  “No.” He covered her hand with his. “I told your father …”

  “He has nothing to do with us,” CeCe whispered and kissed him until all conscious thought abandoned him. However, he feared the noisy bed would draw too much attention. They moved to the floor, and with CeCe’s legs around him, he made slow, sweet love to her until she hissed her orgasm into his ear. When she pulsated around him, he couldn’t help but empty himself into her.

  They lay on the floor, enjoying the falling sensations of slow release as their hearts and breathing returned to normal.

  There was scratching at the door.

  “Busy place,” René said.

  CeCe scooted away from him and opened the door. Chienne came trotting in, waiting to be petted. “Hello, min älskling,” CeCe whispered.

  Chienne let out a happy little noise at the words, and she even let René touch her.

  “We are together again,” he said.

  “Yes,” CeCe said. “Our little family.”

  René’s heart thumped happily.

  * * *

  The next morning, CeCe left René’s room and headed for the big kitchen which had a view of the patio and the ocean. Brown, orange, and green tiles, some cracked, others missing, decorated the kitchen from the gas stove to the stainless steel sink, around to a bar with barstools.

  Zarco had built the house in the 1970s and while it needed serious re-decorating, CeCe knew Zarco didn’t much care about such things. It was good enough. She was surprised he continued to pay for full-time help, but that was probably Hélder’s doing. Theresa, the housekeeper, was obviously still around, which comforted CeCe. However, Theresa couldn’t do all the cleaning herself.

  CeCe glanced out the window. The remnants of the party remained. Several of the drunken revelers had slept under blankets next to the fire, and there they remained, as the new day dawned.

  CeCe felt too full of energy to sleep. She could nap later. Coffee had already been made, and she poured herself a cup. Who had made it? Everyone else was still sleeping.

  Then she knew even as he hurried in through the back door. Hélder.

  He stopped when he saw her. And nodded. “So, you’ve come home. Finally. And everyone throws the big party. Did Zarco kill the fatted calf for you?”

  “No, Hélder. But it’s good to see you.”

  “I wish I could say the same,” he said. “First Mother leaves, and then you, and you didn’t care that our father’s heart was broken. It was selfish.”

  CeCe cringed and once again she was five years old and never good enough for Hélder. But now, she was a grown woman, about to become a mother. And if there was ever a time to stick up for herself, it was right then. “No, Hélder. It wasn’t. I left home. Many people do it. And I’ve lived successfully on my own for years and years. I even paid for my own college abroad. If you think I’m selfish, maybe you’re jealous. Either way, should I have stayed away?”

  “Are you going to marry him?” Hélder asked. It was like she hadn’t spoken a word.

  “Yes, CeCe, are you?” The voice made her jump. Zarco had come down. He wore his robe, his hair in disarray from sleeping. “Since you slept in the same bed, under my roof, I’d like to know the answer to that question.”

  Sebastian, one of the Dobermans, clicked along after his master. The sleek beast moved over to let CeCe pet him. Human affairs didn’t much concern him. All he wanted was a good scratching. Men at their best were as simple. At their worst, well, CeCe was experiencing some of that right then.

  CeCe smiled at the dog. “You love me, Sebastian. You don’t care what I do, as long as I give you love.”

  “You talk some sense into her, Zarco,” Hélder said. “I have to leave.” Before leaving though, he ca
me over and planted a kiss on top of her head. Then he left.

  CeCe shook her head. First her oldest brother is mean to her, then he kisses her with brotherly love, and then leaves without another word. Ugh, her family.

  Her father sat down with a cup of coffee. “I told René not to go wandering in the middle of the night. I didn’t think I’d have to tell you. Such sinfulness. Father Lusco will not be pleased.”

  He wasn’t smiling, but CeCe could tell he wasn’t very upset. If he was upset at all.

  “The dogs would’ve eaten René,” CeCe said. “They know me. I was safe. And Pai, things have changed.”

  “All over the world,” Zarco agreed. “One thing that has never changed. It will always be difficult for a woman to raise a child on her own. You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

  “No!” CeCe raised her voice without meaning to.

  “Yes, you are,” her father said. “You didn’t drink the Santo Graal when I offered it to you in the harbor. Then I had poncha for you here, and you pretended to sip but didn’t drink it. And finally? Your skin. Your mother had that same glow about her. You are pregnant, or I am not the Zarco.”

  CeCe didn’t say anything.

  “Am I the Zarco?” her father asked. Then sipped his coffee.

  “I hate you when you call yourself ‘the Zarco,’“ CeCe said. “From here on, you are Abílio to me.”

  “I am the Zarco, and you’re pregnant. Is René the father?”

  CeCe groaned. “And this is why I wanted to wait to come home until after the baby was born. To avoid all these questions. It’s my life, Pai.”

  “No,” her father said. “Your life is now the bebê’s. I don’t think René is the father. He doesn’t know, does he?”

  CeCe shook her head. “But it doesn’t matter. We were never going to be serious.”

  Zarco rose and snapped his fingers. Sebastian rose to attention and behind him came a rush of four other dogs. All came to the back door, shuffling around. Clearly, it was time for their usual morning walk.

  Zarco opened the door and the dogs rushed out and sniffed at the people sleeping around the fire. “Wake up those degenerates,” Zarco said, but not unkindly. He turned around to face his daughter. “So you two were never going to be serious?”

  “No,” CeCe said. “He’s my last adventure before I settle down to raise my child.”

  “Not serious?” Zarco asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Then someone should probably tell Captain Baudoin,” he said. “And I assure you, Daughter, it will not be me.”

  He headed out to join the dogs, leaving CeCe speechless.

  As soon as the door closed, Mika walked down the hall in a Portugal football jersey and shorts. A little smile played across his face.

  “Good morning, CeCe,” Mika said.

  CeCe studied him. Had he heard about her secret pregnancy?

  “Good morning.”

  Mika snapped his fingers. “Today will be a good day, I think. We are all happy you have come back. Too bad you brought some French dog with you.”

  “Chienne isn’t so bad.” CeCe relaxed. Mika would’ve said something, so she was pretty sure her secret was safe.

  Mika laughed at her joke. “I was talking about René. Always the last word from my little sister. Always just the same.”

  He came over and hugged her.

  She pushed him away. “No, everything is different.”

  Mika shrugged and poured himself a cup of coffee. “We shall see.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Day Thirty-One

  1300 May 13

  Horta Public Soccer Field

  René stared down at the over-sized soccer cleats someone had lent him and wondered how he’d ever ended up agreeing to public slaughter and humiliation on Friday the thirteenth, of all days.

  CeCe’s two evil brothers eyed him from the other side of the field, laughing and obviously exchanging disparaging remarks about him with their cadre of goons.

  Even Hélder had taken the day off and sat in the bleachers with Zarco. The three brothers smelled blood. His.

  He wore his last pair of clean shorts, paint splattered and ripped below the back pocket from the most recent renovation on Tourbillon before their last departure. His jersey was glow-in-the-dark orange, most likely designed to make him look like a human target. Emblazoned across the back was a drawing of a whale and the words, “Zarco’s Whale Tours.” Prophetically, the front of the shirt bore only a huge, black zero.

  René felt a little like one of the mice in the Cinderella tale. Only he wasn’t going to turn into a coach footman. Mika and Augie’s buddies were going to tear him limb from limb, like a bunch of hungry cats.

  As he knelt to slip his tattered shin guards inside the droopy socks they’d lent him, he saw Hélder out of the corner of his eye. The eldest Zarco brother was leaning against the bleachers with a broad grin on his face. The bastard was going to enjoy every minute of his ordeal. Zarco’s face showed no hint of emotion. He’d make a formidable poker player.

  René vowed to get even with all of them. CeCe was his woman, no matter what gauntlet they made him endure. He would show them what he was made of.

  She sat, serene and glowing as usual, next to her father. The smile she blazed his way almost made him believe he could survive the ordeal. Almost.

  Hélder suddenly stood, stripped off his polo shirt, and pulled a T-shirt block-printed with “REFEREE” over his chest. Great. The brotherly slam fest was complete. CeCe half-stood and flashed a frown at Hélder, which he ignored. Zarco maintained his poker face.

  Hélder walked out on the field and beckoned to him and Mika. René took his time joining them and pulled together his strategy on the way.

  When René reached the brothers, Hélder leaned toward him.

  “You don’t have to do this, Captain Baudoin,” he said. “We understand you’ve been a man of the sea all your life. Football may not be your sport.” Hélder swept a slow gaze of the crowd of islanders gathered around to eavesdrop. “Maybe scuba diving would be more to your liking.” His jibe drew a round of guffaws.

  “As for positions, I think you would be best suited for running at striker,” Hélder said. This suggestion drew a lot of animated nods.

  “It is so many years since I played this game, I may be a little fuzzy on the rules,” René said, and locked his hands behind him, trying to strike a hang-dog pose.

  “It’s simple,” Mika said, obviously anxious to begin the carnage. “There are cages at each end of the field where the ball needs to go to score a goal. Your job is to move the ball. Ours …” He moved his arms to encompass his team members. “Is to stop you. Simple.”

  When René still acted puzzled, Mika became impatient.

  “Let’s just run a few practice plays, so you can get used to moving the ball.” He stopped then and gave René a piercing look. “You can dribble and pass, can’t you?”

  René stared at the ground for a moment and then raised his head. “I’ll try to keep up,” he said.

  * * *

  CeCe craned her neck to overhear what was going on between her brothers and René. If they hurt him, not only would she never forgive them, she would never come back to this God-forsaken island. And her father knew she’d follow through on her threats. She’d warned Zarco that morning.

  Men! What genetic disorder made them so eager to self-destruct in defense of their macho pride? You’d have to multiply that urge by three or four if you gave a man an audience. She couldn’t imagine René had the first notion of how to play football against such a violent tribe of men. He’d grown up on Martinique and then went away to college in Paris. His main specialty had probably been bad women, not sports.

  No doubt her brothers and their friends would break all the rules at the first sign of weakness on Hélder’s part. And she knew how her big brother felt about the man she was sleeping with. The man she loved.

  Did she just think that?

 
; Lord, she hoped she never voiced the sentiment out loud. If the violence became too out-of-hand, she would walk into the midst of the brutes and make them stop.

  All of the players spread out in some semblance of order to practice dribbling and passing. After a few minutes, she had to look away. René was the worst excuse for a footballer she’d ever seen. Twice he let the ball get away and roll out-of-bounds. He would never make it out of this match alive.

  * * *

  René did a quick assessment of the men assigned to his team. Merde. A bunch of retirees, drunks, and a few ten-year-olds. He decided not to let the pain stretch out overly long. After awhile, he’d drop the act and hit them head-on. Then let the massacre fall where it may.

  When he’d told CeCe about his exploits at the Sorbonne, he’d left out the part where he’d spent every weekend in pickup games with his crew of buddies. A couple of them had turned pro after college, one at Man U, and the other at Paris Saint-Germain. And growing up on Martinique? Moving the ball down a grassy field was one of his first childhood memories.

  He’d allow the Zarco bastard brothers a few plays before he put the hammer down, just to let CeCe know he’d tried to save them.

  Hélder blew a whistle tied to a string around his neck. Showtime.

  After the lineup where he couldn’t resist pretending to be confused, he dribbled the ball straight for the biggest, ugliest defender. The guy never knew what hit him. René spun sideways in a heartbeat and kicked a goal. Mouths dropped open. They hadn’t expected that.

  René kept moving, but could see the rage on Augie and Mika’s faces as they headed his way to give him a dose of personal defense.

  Now they knew he was a ringer, the gloves would be off. He’d be lucky to walk away alive. He did a little dancing pirouette with the ball. Damn, this felt good. At least he’d go down happy.

  The ball moved up and down the field a few times, but every time René had the ball, he scored a goal. The anger emanating from the Zarco brothers was almost palpable. Each time he had physical contact with one of them on the field, he moved away with more wounds.