by Jace Killan
The lyrics described riches, but the girl didn’t want any of that. She didn’t care for money. She just wanted love.
He began to translate the second verse for her, “I’m sick of your good manners...I eat with my hands...I’m loud and straight...I’m sick of double talk...Look, I’m not even mad, I’m just like that.”
Kristin listened intently. The song launched into its chorus again. Already it grew on Joaquin.
“I want love, happiness...not your money, it doesn’t make me happy...”
The next song, titled Eblouie par la nuit, sounded different than the first they’d listened to. Zaz’s voice captivated Joaquin’s mind. It followed the words to the love song. Kristin waited for a translation, but Joaquin couldn’t speak. The beautiful song tugged at his pain. Brina. It hit him. This was the first time since that accident, nearly seven years ago, that he rode with a woman in a car.
Joaquin clenched his jaw, fighting back tears. The pent up pain had found an escape, and it came out now. He turned his head and tried to say sorry, but it came out in a groan.
Kristin didn’t turn off the song, but quieted it. She took his hand and laid her head on his shoulder. What a mess he must’ve seemed. She probably assumed he’d been so moved by the music but that was only part right.
Kristin didn’t play another song. Nor did she speak. It gave him time to gather up those feelings and shove them back down deep. He’d been vulnerable—more vulnerable than he’d been over the last seven years. He hated it and wanted more of it. He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Don’t be.”
The taxi took them to K. Rico Steakhouse. Joaquin had Googled Latin cuisine near the theater district. He hadn’t had good Mexican food since moving to New York and he figured if he had to drop a hundred dollars on dinner it should probably be on food he enjoyed.
Still holding hands, they followed the waiter through the restaurant to a table in the center of a smaller dining area. Joaquin thought about pulling out Kristin’s chair but she sat before he could make it around the table, resulting in another awkward mess. He patted her shoulder then returned to his chair, wanting to slap himself in the face for appearing so weird.
Kristin had ordered a cabernet, then shot Joaquin an apologetic look, when he shook his head after the waiter asked if he wanted wine as well.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to order alcohol if you’re not drinking.”
He tried to put her mind at ease. “No, go ahead. I just don’t drink.”
“What are you a Mormon?” Her smirk cut through the tension built up from the cab ride.
“No. I’m an addict.” And the tension returned.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know.” Kristin raised her hand to signal the waiter.
Joaquin wanted to ask why, but the waiter popped in before he could. “Sí, Señorita?”
“Can you take this away?” she said.
“No, it’s fine really.” Joaquin said.
“Please.” Kristin waved her hand, dismissing the beverage.
The waiter gathered it up then stooped close to Joaquin’s ear. “I will still have to charge you for it, Señor.”
Kristin leaned in after he left and asked what the waiter had said.
“Nothing. He just thought I was a cheapskate and didn’t want to pay for your drink.”
She laughed.
“It’s fine,” Joaquin said, “really, if you want to drink, it doesn’t bother me.”
“No. I am quite the lush and would probably end up doing something I’d regret.”
Joaquin must’ve made a peculiar face. He was surprised at the thought of doing something than more at her comment of regretting that something.
She laughed. “No, nothing like that. I was referring to puking all over your tux.”
“Oh. Right.” Joaquin relaxed.
“I am not a first date kind of lady, if you know what I mean. Doesn’t matter how drunk.”
“Okay.” Joaquin’s face flushed and he pulled long and hard at his ice water. Her smile was mesmerizing. And her brown eyes, intoxicating.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?” she asked.
“A little.”
“Good. That means you like me.”
Joaquin laughed. “If you say so.”
“Admit it.” She leaned in close, resting her chin on her folded hands. “You find me extremely attractive, don’t you?”
“Man, you just lay it all out there?”
“That’s how I roll.” She shrugged almost like an inmate would shrug when they humbly bragged about themselves.
The waiter returned to take their order. Joaquin requested a steak with a side of enchiladas. Kristin ordered the pollo fundido.
After the waiter left, Joaquin met Kristin’s beaming eyes. “What if I said that I am not attracted to you at all?”
“Then I’d call you a fat liar.”
“I’m skinny,” Joaquin said.
“Exactly.”
“Okay. You got me.” He raised his hands in surrender. “You’re pretty good looking for a red head.”
She sat up like she was going to try and take a shot at Joaquin.
“Easy now. I was just getting started. I was going to say that you are also brilliant. And witty.”
“Go on.”
“And annoying.”
“You like it.”
“Maybe.”
“Well good. Cause I like you, Jaqui.”
The name took Joaquin by surprise. He had been referred to as Joaquin or Maxwell in the office—never Jaqui. He fought back the memory of Brina again.
“Excuse me,” he said. He had to go somewhere else—get his head straight.
He found himself staring into the bathroom mirror, scratching his nicotine patch, the sink running below him. He wet his palm and wiped his face.
Step one, honesty. Step two, hope. Step three, trust. Step four, truth...
He came back to reality. The pain, dulled, and his appetite settled. He breathed deep and checked his phone. His mom had called and followed up with a text: “Just seeing how you’re doing?”
With the date and all that had gone on, Joaquin had forgotten to call his mom.
“I’m good ma,” he texted back. “Sorry, can’t talk now.”
She replied with a sad face emoji. Joaquin smiled. When did his mom learn how to text emojis? “I’m bored. Brooklyn left for Washington State today. What are you doing?”
“I’m on a date,” Joaquin replied.
The return text held three smiling emojis. “Mandame fotos.” Send pictures.
He made it back to his table, grateful to see Kristin still sitting where he left her, albeit concerned. The food had joined their table, the spicy enchilada aroma tugging at Joaquin’s appetite.
“Are you alright?”
“Great.” Honesty. “I mean, I’m okay.”
“Is something going on? Did I do something?”
“No. It’s not you. It’s me.” He sliced his steak and took a bite.
She cocked her head back. “Did you really just give me the ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ line on our first date?”
Joaquin let some happiness in. He chuckled. “I’m sorry. There are things about me that I really don’t like. I’m trying to change them.”
“What? You got gnarly toenails or something?”
He laughed again. “No. Why, do you like toenails?”
“The yellower the better.”
Joaquin shook his head and swallowed away the image.
“I’m sorry was that too much of a visual?”
“No.” Honesty. “Well maybe. I mean we are eating.”
“I used to get in trouble all the time growing up for that sort of thing.”
“Yellow toenails?”
Now she laughed. “No. Talking about my yellow toenails at the dinner table.”
They both about passed out with laughter. The pent up emotion found a humorous out. “Ok
ay. Okay, stop. I can’t breathe.”
Joquin withdrew his phone, aimed the camera at his beautiful redheaded date and snapped a picture as she filled her mouth with a forkful of cheesy salsa verde covered chicken. He snapped a photo. She chewed wide, purposely making a spectacle for the camera. He snapped a few more. After swallowing and wiping her mouth, she raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips. That photo tugged at his heart.
“It’s for my mom.” He texted the photo to her.
“Our first date and you’re already introducing me to your mother.”
“It’s not like...”
“No, that’s fine. I’m a catch. I get it.”
Joaquin chuckled and cleared his throat. “Tell me about you. What’s your mother like?”
Kristin’s face paled. “Um, she’s dead.”
For a moment Joaquin wondered if Kristin was teasing, but her somber expression matched the new mood in their conversation.
“I’m...” He thought a moment. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.” So he said the only thing logical to come in his mind. “How’d she die?”
“She was murdered.”
Joaquin tried to read the expression on her face. She didn’t seem put off by the conversation.
“My dad was arrested for it.” She went on to explain that her mom’s death had happened nearly a decade ago. Evidence pointed to her father though he had a bout with Alzheimer’s and couldn’t remember anything about that night. At the end of the trial, he’d confessed and been sentenced to life in prison, but he didn’t end up in a normal prison. Soon after, he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and reassigned to the custody of an experimental facility at an undisclosed location.
He tried to gauge her feelings as she rehearsed the information. This sounded more like a prepared speech than a recounting of something so horrific. She must’ve told the story a hundred times.
“I lived with my grandparents in Pima, Arizona until I graduated high school then moved back to New York.”
“That’s just terrible.”
“Nah. I like New York.”
“No. I mean...”
She smiled. “I know. And it is. But whatcha going to do?” She wore distant eyes. “He was a brilliant scientist. His old company moved to California right after everything happened. His partner has an experimental drug in clinical trials right now to treat Alzheimer’s. I think he’s looking into helping my dad out.”
“Wow.” Joaquin’s heart lurched. Kristin had an equally messed up life as he, well, almost. He understood her, and she him. Somehow that dysfunction made her more attractive.
But he couldn’t fall for her. He lived a lie, no matter how much he attempted to work the steps, at the end of the day he couldn’t be one hundred percent honest with her. He couldn’t tell her about the FBI or the cartel. A relationship would just complicate the already overcomplicated.
He’d have to reign it back in. But on the other hand, he felt something he hadn’t experienced in years. One night with his guard lowered, if only just a bit, couldn’t hurt.
35
Junior typed quickly on his MacBook to the rhythm of Disturbed. He liked the heavy metal band when he escaped to the dark web. He accessed the server after submitting several rounds of protection protocols. He took a long drag of NOS from the tall can at his side and popped in a couple Altoids from the red canister on his desk.
Accessing the network through a series of FTP proxies allowed his computer and location to retain some anonymity. It wasn’t the server owner that he wanted to avoid, but the files he’d soon access were extremely damning and would bring with them some heavy scrutiny, so he kept his distance.
He found the folder labeled, Stillwater. He opened the files one at a time, viewing the short clips of videos. They were as good as Guzman suggested.
Stillwater functioned primarily as a defense contractor and had been in the news recently when they obtained a number of high-value, controversial targets. Alanxion, the oil mining company, owned Stillwater. At a glance, some might’ve found that odd that an energy company might own a defense company. But even Junior understood the business term of vertical integration. It only made sense that an oil company, defend US interests in oil-rich places of the world.
Junior sipped from his NOS and opened the next folder titled Senator Hodges. Frank Hodges of Mississippi, chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee, was responsible for awarding contracts to military groups like Stillwater. Hodges had earned his accolades during the first gulf war. Now those merits would be forgotten, replaced with thoughts of disgust and scandal when the videos leaked to CNN. They showed Hodges and a man by the name of Jeremy Stokes, fraternizing in a Mexican brothel near Nogales. That wasn’t the worst of it. The videos showed lewd and illegal acts between the men and obvious minors. They’d be crucified in the media. And prosecuted in the courts. The videos were taken nearly a year ago, and Northern sold the stock short soon after. They waited long to finalize the trade through purchase, having met several margin calls as Alanxion stock climbed over past months. Now it would fall.
Hodges would be arrested, no doubt, and investigators would jump all over the apparent relationship between Hodges and Stokes. That would trigger senate hearings and investigations into Stillwater contracts, and probably an overhaul of the Armed Services Committee.
Junior finished off the NOS and uploaded the videos to a specific file share. Then through the server, emailed a link to CNN, with a brief explanation of the video.
After he finished, he turned his attention to Joaquin’s whereabouts. He’d arrived at the theater. Despite Guzman’s directive to keep the kid confined to the room next door, Junior figured he deserved a little respite. He’d done well. He’d made Guzman a lot of money, and some of it honestly. He’d also, just yesterday, passed the series 24 exam. From what Junior understood, many take the exam several times before passing it, and Joaquin scored 87%. So from how Junior saw it, keeping Joaquin happy kept the program functioning. It made sense for business.
Joaquin led Kristin by the hand up the stairs to the first balcony, then the two skirted over to their seats on the front row. Kristin didn’t release his hand when they sat.
They could see clearly down into the pit and had a great view of the stage. Joaquin used his free hand to flip through the playbill, given to him at entry.
Jared and his wife came down the crowded row. Joaquin stood with Kristin.
“You clean up nice.” Jared shook Joaquin’s hand. Then waved at Kristin. “So do you.”
“Be nice,” Jared’s wife said, then to Joaquin, “Don’t listen to him.”
“This is Emma.” Jared smiled over her like she was his defining feature. Maybe she was.
Joaquin had seen pictures of Emma and their cute kids, but Emma, all dolled up, took his breath away.
Joaquin squeezed her hand in an effeminate shake, but she attempted a full shake so it came off awkward, weak. Emma stepped through the two men, over to Kristin, commenting on her hair and dress. The two women hugged. Apparently they already knew each other.
“He’s cute,” Emma said, not quiet enough.
Joaquin wanted to see Kristin’s reaction, but didn’t dare look over.
Emma tugged on his coat. “You’d better treat her right or I’ll send my brothers to kick your butt.” She seemed half joking, and half serious.
“C’mon, old gal,” Jared said, gently pushing her down the aisle. He looked back at Joaquin, “How’d the exam go?”
“Eighty seven.” Joaquin couldn’t help but beam with pride. He’d just established his intelligence in the finance community.
“Holy cow, dude, that’s awesome.”
“Yeah,” Joaquin said, “but it still doesn’t hold a candle to your CFA.” From what Joaquin understood, the CFA wasn’t one test but three and each taken a year apart. Some guys would fail multiple times on each exam. Jared had apparently passed all with ease.
“Enough shop talk.” Kristin took Joaq
uin’s hand again and pulled him down to sit. Emma sat next to Kristin, making the men bookends to two beautiful women. They spoke a little of Emma’s studies. A few more months until she’d graduate with her Masters.
Eventually the hall lights dimmed and the play began.
Watching Valjean’s opening scene in prison, flooded Joaquin’s mind with memories. Not of prison per se, but of him reading Victor Hugo’s book four times while in prison. The tale had spoken to his soul. It told a story of redemption and change, two things he so desperately wanted.
Now he took the time to reflect on his goals. Like Valjean, Joaquin had served his time, but he didn’t feel redeemed. Not yet. Redemption for him would come in the form of serving his country—a cartel snitch for the FBI. But change had come. Not just because it had been years since he last used meth, but also because he was able to walk away from the triggers and regain control as he had done that evening at the restaurant. His power over the addiction had grown considerably. Not just over meth, but cigarettes and porn. Yet he refused to relax. As soon as he did, he’d relapse.
Joaquin leaned forward, dropping his date’s hand, about the time Fantine started her solo. He rested his chin into his hand, positioned so he could wipe the tears away with little motion.
Though he had seen his father cry on occasion, prison condemned the practice. Tears meant weakness and weakness would lead to pain. Someone would make him pay if they ever saw the tears. But Kristin hadn’t. She’d offered comfort instead.
Kristin didn’t fight the emotion like Joaquin, and seeing her connection with Fantine only hurried his own tears. She found his hand and squeezed it tightly.
The cast’s acting and incredible voices blew Joaquin away. Being the first play he’d ever seen, didn’t afford him anything for comparison, still he doubted any other show would have such an impact on him as this one.
At the intermission, Kristin disappeared with Emma for most of the time. When she returned her makeup had been fixed and she appeared refreshed though her eyes were puffy, hidden behind a pair of black rimmed glasses. Joaquin wondered if his were as well.
