El Diablo

by M. Robinson

  “Can’t do what exactly? What can’t you fucking do?”

  “Us.” She gestured between the two of us. “This.”

  I jerked back like she had hit me. “You don’t mean that,” I stated, stepping toward her again.

  “Stop! I can’t pretend anymore. It’s too real. Your life. This life you were born to lead. It’s too fucking real. I was almost raped. I thought you were my hero, my savior, when all along you were the reason,” she spewed, causing me to step back, narrowing my eyes at her with the realization of her words. “I watched your mother take her last breath as she died in your arms. Murdered in cold blood. I watched your sister leave the only family she has behind. Running away from this life, instead of embracing it. I’ve seen the blood on your shirts and knuckles, I’ve seen the guns you carry on you all the time. I’m not stupid, nor can I continue to pretend to look the other way, Alejandro. I’ve seen you change from the boy I once knew, to a man I hardly recognize. You are slowly turning into your father and that’s a scary thing to watch. Michael was right. I don’t know you at all. I know the boy I fell head over heels for as a girl. But I don’t know the man who is standing right here in front of me. You’re a fucking stranger.”

  “I saved your fucking life that night, so don’t you dare throw that in my face. I didn’t want to love you. I tried to stay away, knowing that one day you’d bring me to my knees. And here I am begging you like a goddamn pussy not to fucking leave like a scared little girl. You came to me, not the other way around, sweetheart. I have fucking given you everything! Everything you have wanted or needed. Did you ever really love me, Sophia? Or was this a game to you? Were you dreaming of a fairytale and reality was too much for you to handle? I guess my old man was right about you after all.”

  “Fuck you!” she roared, turning to leave.

  I caught her by the wrist, spinning her around to face me. “We are not done. No one walks out on me. Do you understand me? No one!”

  “Let go of me!” She struggled to get away from me, pounding her fists on my chest.

  “I. Love. You,” I emphasized each word, needing her to understand, needing to get through to her. “I’m still the same man, cariño. I’m the man who you’re supposed to spend the rest of your life with.”

  She winced, like it physically hurt her to hear me say those words. Giving up on the fight, bowing her head in shame, and letting tears stream down her perfect face. I let her go. She clutched onto the ring I placed on her finger months ago.

  Our future.

  “I’m so sorry, Alejandro,” she wallowed, slipping the ring off her finger.

  Stepping away from her, I shook my head. “Don’t fucking do this.”

  She peered up at me through her tear-soaked lashes. “You did this.” For the first time it was as if I was staring back at a stranger.

  My Sophia was gone.

  She wasn’t the woman I loved with every last fiber of my being.

  She reached over to take my hand in hers. Gently placing the ring in my palm and closing my fingers around it. Before releasing it, she brought my hand up to her lips and whispered, “I can’t.” Turning her back to me, she headed for the door.

  I was over to her in one stride, grabbing her shoulder to turn her to face me again. Pulling the hair away from her face to look deep into her eyes.

  I spoke with conviction, “Don't you see? Don't you see that I can't live without you? That I can't breathe without you?” I urged, hanging on by a thread. “That I’m nothing without you.”

  I could sense her resolve breaking, and I couldn’t take it anymore. Tears slid down my face, mirroring hers. “Please,” I added in a voice I didn’t recognize.

  She didn’t waver. “If I asked you to choose me. To. Choose. Us. Would you?”

  “My heart would choose you. Us. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m a Martinez. There is no getting past that, it’s me.”

  She nodded her head, slipping out of my hands. “I know. Which is why I would never ask you to do that.” I reached for her one last time, but she swiftly moved back, shaking her head and walking to the door. It took everything I had in me not to go to her. She looked broken. I had broken her, and now there was no going back.

  I had to let her go.

  She turned, grabbing the door handle, pausing. For a second I thought she was coming back to me, for a moment I thought our love had prevailed.

  That this wasn’t the end of our love story.

  “Please take care of yourself. I know it’s stupid for me to say that, but I can’t help it. I’ll always love you. I just can’t die with you. Goodbye, Alejandro,” she said as she opened the door and walked out of my life just like that.

  Leaving me to walk through life without her by my side, taking my whole world with her. It was then I finally understood who Alejandro Martinez was born to be. I lost everything that ever mattered to me. My mom, my sister, and now my girl. Everyone I cared for, everyone I loved, had vanished.

  They were all forever etched into my soul, a part of me that I would never be able to detach myself from. The truth of my life swallowed me whole. I screamed out my frustration, unleashing the rage and wrath I no longer had any control over. It pounded into me as furiously as Sophia’s last words.

  “Goodbye, Alejandro.”

  I slowly turned around, looking at the dining room table. Holding the possibility of our future in my hand. I lunged forward, clearing all the contents off the table, to the floor. The sounds of the glass crashing onto the hardwood was mocking me… my heart shattering the exact same way.

  It was everywhere and all around me.

  I couldn’t run.

  I couldn’t escape.

  I had no one.

  I kept moving because I knew once I stopped I would crash, and possibly never get back up again. I darted around the dining room, my feet stomping with every step, leaving a path of destruction in their wake. Throwing candles, dishware, and chairs. Flipping the goddamn table. I went after anything I could find, demolishing the perfect night.

  “I fucking hate you! I fucking hate you!” I yelled, punching the fucking mirror that I caught my reflection in. Not even flinching from the pain. I repeated that mantra over and over, letting it sink into my pores, and making it become a part of me. Destroying everything in my path, the future I would never have.

  I pulled my hair back, taking in the destructive scene before me. “Jesus Christ, get yourself together, you fucking pussy,” I rasped, making my way to the bar. Taking four swigs of whiskey from the head, not bothering with a glass, and repeating it several times until the bottle was empty, and I felt nothing but the burn through my body.

  I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed another bottle, wanting to drown myself in the amber liquid. Leaning my whole body against the wall, I started sliding down, wallowing in the despair of what my life had become. I don’t know how long I sat there, drinking my fucking life away when I heard the front door open, footsteps coming my way.

  “Sophia?” I slurred.

  A part of me hoped that it was somebody that was coming to put a bullet in my fucking head. Putting me out of my goddamn misery.

  “Fuck,” I heard Leo announce as he hovered above me, reaching for my arm. “Get up, motherfucker. Get up!”

  I took another swig of the bottle before he pried it out of my bloody hands. “Jesus, are you trying to have yourself admitted to the hospital? The entire bottle is almost gone. I’m not holding your hair back if you throw up, princess.”

  “Fuck you,” I groaned, my head swaying.

  “Come on, you need a cold fucking shower, then you need to pass the fuck out,” he ordered, placing my arm over his shoulder as he stood me up as I rocked to stay upright.

  “She’s gone… Leo… she’s fucking gone…”

  “I know, man. I know. She called me.”

  “Everyone is gone…” I struggled to get out as we walked toward my room.

  “You just keep fucking moving. Tomorrow
is another day, brother.” He laid me down on my bed.

  I saw my dying mother in my arms.

  I saw my sister leaving me.

  I saw Sophia saying goodbye.

  Before I passed the fuck out. Knowing I would wake up another man because the Devil…

  Had won.

  “Alejandro,” Dad greeted as I walked into his office. Not bothering to get up.

  He was sitting at the head of the rectangle table at the far end of the room. Antonio, a new associate from Panama that we were about to use for the first time, was sitting across from him. I spent the last week in his territory, making sure they knew we meant business and they were aware of how we handled ourselves.

  I didn’t acknowledge him.

  There was something about the fucking prick that rubbed me the wrong way immediately. The last thing I needed was to babysit another incompetent asshole who thought with his dick and not his head. My plate was already full. I didn't need any more shit piling up. Although, I had to give him some credit, the man had some brass fucking balls for sitting parallel to my father. I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to shake his goddamn hand for it. I’m sure my dad loved that.

  A power struggle at its fucking finest.

  I wasn’t a take-charge kind of man.

  I was in charge.

  End of fucking story.

  I had proved myself to my piece of shit father more and more as the months passed. I unbuttoned my suit jacket as I sat down next to my dad. Making myself comfortable before heading the meeting.

  “I paid off everyone that needed to keep their goddamn mouths shut, and the remaining were silenced… permanently,” I informed, breaking the silence since I barged into the room.

  “Antonio, this is—”

  “I know who he is,” he interrupted my father, leaning forward on the table with his hands placed out in front of him. “Your reputation precedes you, Martinez. Quite the Devil, huh?”

  I grinned, tapping my fingers on the table one right after the other. “I've been called worse things by better people.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me, cocking his head to the side.

  Waiting.

  I knew what he was trying to do. I learned from an early age how to read people. Who was lying, who was pretending, who was bluffing, and who was just full of fucking shit. A person’s body language always told me their story.

  Some of it was instinctual.

  Some of it was bred.

  Some of it was learned.

  Most of it was bullshit.

  “Your father was telling me that you’re going to be taking over soon. You think you can handle it?”

  “Handle it?” I questioned, smiling. Leaning back, I reached down to grab my dick. “I'll handle it like I handle my fucking cock. Assertive.”

  My dad chuckled, sitting back with his arms crossed over his chest, an amused expression on his face.

  Antonio jerked back, clearing his throat from my brutal honest response. Stammering, “I’m just saying… that’s quite an accomplishment for someone so young.”

  “I’m just saying,” I mocked in a condescending tone. “If I wanted your fucking opinion, I'd ask for it.”

  “I—”

  I didn’t give him a chance to reply, grabbing the folder that was sitting in front of him. I went over his proposal and leaned back into my chair, flicking the documents in his direction. Scoffing out, “What the fuck am I supposed to do with these? Wipe my ass with them?”

  “That’s the best I can do. We’re taking a huge risk transporting that amount of cocaine into the U.S. It’s going to cost you. I need to protect my men.”

  “Huh? Did you feel that?” I sat forward. “I actually almost gave a flying fuck about your men or your risks. Do I need to remind you that you work for me? Not the other way around. You don’t set the rules, I do. When I say I need something, and I mean anything, including what the price per kilo will be, then you go and fetch, doggie.”

  He slammed his closed fist on the table, rattling the glasses. “I am the best! How dare you?!” Fury written all over his face.

  “That's nice, now be a good boy and use your inside voice.” Cocking my head to the side. “I know people who can make your life easier, or they can make it harder. I can slam my fists on tables too, like a fucking pussy. Want to see who can make it move more?” I threatened. “Now, if you could so kindly tell your goons to lower the guns that are pointing at me and my father under the table, I would really fucking appreciate it.”

  His eyes narrowed, giving me a smug look before nodding to his men. They retracted their weapons and placed them on the table.

  “Gentleman,” I declared, setting my elbows on the table with my hands in a prayer gesture. “We're not here to argue. I'm simply explaining why I'm right. Either you make it happen, Antonio, or you can go suck the dick you rode in on. Your choice.”

  I could feel my father’s pride radiating off of him, burning a hole in my side. He slapped my shoulder and laughed, adding, “And that’s how he handles it, Antonio.”

  Antonio instantly stood, the chair scrapping across the hardwood floor.

  Facial expressions always revealed a lot about a person. Feelings truly were a bitch to hide. Energy of any form was communicated through a person’s gaze. In this line of business, it was all about looking for the signs.

  Nothing more.

  Nothing less.

  The longer you were around someone, the more you learned about them. You never even had to know their goddamn name.

  “I’ll have a new proposal drawn up,” he caved, exactly how I knew he would.

  “Great, now go lay down by your bowl,” I ridiculed, enjoying every fucking second of it.

  He stood taller, inhaling deeply.

  I smiled not paying him any mind, nodding toward the door for them to get the fuck out of my face. He understood my silent order and left without so much as another word.

  “Well, nice to see you too, hijo,” Dad’s voice boomed, bringing my attention to him.

  “You’re welcome,” I replied, ignoring his endearment. I stood, grabbing his glass.

  It was tradition to have a drink together after a business meeting, especially one that went in our favor. Turning my back to him, I made my way over to his wet bar at the other end of the room, pouring two glasses of scotch.

  “I’m getting old, Alejandro. Your mother’s death… it’s… taken a toll on me. I know you will make me proud, carrying on the Martinez name. You’ve done well, hijo. They’re already calling you El Diablo, The Devil. Twenty years old and already fucking feared. I couldn’t be more pleased to call you my son.”

  The mere mention of my mother made me physically cringe, knowing the truth. I took in his words, turning with our drinks in hand, before walking back over to him again. I set his drink down in front of him, taking my seat at the other side of the table. Exactly where Antonio was sitting only minutes ago, causing him to narrow his eyes at me. It was the first time in all these years I ever sat parallel to him.

  Lifting my glass, I nodded my chin toward him, a silent toast before downing the fiery liquid in one gulp. Setting my glass down on the table with a thud. He followed suit, taking it down like it was a glass of fucking water.

  “Did you ever really love her?” I asked out of nowhere, catching him by surprise.

  He lowered his eyebrows, confused.

  I stood from my chair again, needing to get away from him. Since I found out the truth, I had distanced myself from him, spending very little time in his presence. Even sharing the air that he breathed made me fucking sick. I paced around the room, waiting for him to answer my question. Knowing I would never get an honest response.

  That wasn’t how my father was made.

  I stopped at his desk, running my fingers along the mahogany wood. Staring at the pictures of my mother and Amari in the corner, shoved away, like the truth.

  “Is this where you made the call to seal my mother’s fate?” I
sat down in his chair, putting my feet up on his desk. He watched my every move with nothing but a guarded stare. I lit a cigar, taking a few deep puffs, blowing precise smoke rings into the thick air. “So tell me. Did you murder her because she was having an affair with Roberto? Or because she was pregnant with his baby?”

  “Hijo—”

  I glared at him. “You lost the fucking right to call me that the day you murdered my mother and had me fucking watch. Not giving a fuck that Amari was there. Tell me, did it ever cross your mind that she could have been killed, too?”

  “Mi familia lo es todo para mi,” he clenched out, “My family is everything to me.”

  I reached into the pocket of my suit jacket, pulling out a folded piece of paper I spent hours, even days, staring at. Memorizing every last goddamn word written. The edges so worn from my bleeding grasp.

  I threw it at him. Landing in the space between us.

  “I thought you didn’t get an autopsy. Isn’t that what you told us? That we didn’t need to get one? That she was a victim of retaliation on you? On us? Or do you not remember the fucking lies you tell anymore?”

  He grimaced, still sitting where I left him at the table. “I would never hurt my wife. The mother of my children.”

  “No, you just had someone else do it for you. Are we even your kids?”

  “Get the fuck out of my office, Alejandro!” he roared, the vein on his forehead pulsating.

  “She loved you. She gave you everything, old man. She cheated on you because you’re a miserable fuck, who treated her like shit. I’m surprised it took her that long. Kinda makes me wonder if Roberto was the only one. I don’t blame my mother at all. Life is full of disappointments, and you’re one of them.”

  “You despise me, don't you? Is that what this is about?”

  “You know, I probably would. If I gave you any thought at all. You know what comes to mind when I do think about you, though? My mother dying in my arms, fighting to fucking breathe. She didn’t say one goddamn word about you as she shook in my arms. You weren’t even a thought in her mind in the last minutes of her life. Like you didn’t even exist in her world. She did whisper his name though,” I lied, just to hurt him.