Emiliano
SHE’S UNWELL
I should be embarrassed at the sight of our text thread, knowing she hasn’t responded to a single message I’ve sent since the last time I saw her.
Berto told me that she walked outside barefoot, just to talk shit to him. I can only imagine what a sight it was, knowing Taina looks sexy as fuck when she has an attitude. Is it the way her nose twitches? Or the way she lifts one brow as if she dares anyone to fuck with her?
I can’t say. All I know is I’ve had round-the-clock eyes on her and reports tell me she hasn’t left the house once. What a strange way to live.
“There’s a call on the line for you, boss,” Meena cuts through on my phone’s intercom. “Our favorite client.”
There aren’t many people who can piss her off, but being instructed to “get some coffee so they men can talk” is certainly a way to do it.
The machismo that Latinos impose on most of the people we meet is fucking embarrassing at times. And that time was one of them.
Meena’s father twisted uncomfortably in his seat, and by the end of the meeting, had let the congressman know that Meena is his daughter.
You’d think an apology was in order, but these kinds of men never think they’re wrong.
And if he’s calling for the reason I think he is, he’s about to understand exactly where he has me fucked up.
Un pinche pendejo.
“Hello,” I say once I lift the phone to my ear after pressing the button next to the blinking light.
“Mr. Pineros,” Congressman de la Matta begins. “How are you?”
I’d be better if your daughter weren’t avoiding me.
“Wonderful, Congressman.” I adjust my bolo tie before I continue. “I assume you aren’t calling for pleasantries.”
His chuckle sounds ominous, but he doesn’t scare me. He couldn’t, even if he had a gun aimed right at my chest.
“You always were perceptive. What, uh…what sort of situation are you and my daughter involved in?”
I can’t be bothered to hide the smirk on my face. Had he been in my presence, I don’t think I would’ve, still.
“What do you mean?” I ask, clicking the mouse on my desktop to open up my emails. I may as well multitask while on this call.
He takes a moment to respond, and I let the silence stand. Men like him like to play power games; make weaker men meet them where they’re at, fill silences with further explanation, or try to make them sweat.
If he thinks the great Oswaldo Pineros didn’t teach his sons how to command any interaction they find themselves in, he’s about to learn otherwise.
“I noticed you two speaking at my birthday party. I was informed by my wife that you seemed…interested.”
His wife who had the gall to overstep when speaking to me. But as the woman who gave birth to Taina, I let it slide.
I won’t offer that same courtesy again .
“Oh?” I say as I read over an email from my insurance regarding the incident with my car.
“And it’s my understanding you took her to dinner recently.”
Taina doesn’t strike me as the type to explain herself to anyone, so I wonder how he knows that. She also doesn’t strike me as someone who gives a fuck what her parents think.
“I’ll be honest, I’m not sure that you should be asking me what’s happening between us. That’s a question for your daughter. That you don’t know indicates a lack of communication in your home,” I tell him, low and slow as I read over the details in front of me.
Of course these babosos didn’t find me at fault. I could’ve told them that—and did , many times.
“I’m asking you as a father trying to protect his daughter,” he says with added bite this time, causing me to smile again.
“Protect her from what? She could do a lot worse than a Pineros, güey .” I forgo formalities to remind him to know his place. I lean back in my chair. “In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were insulting me.”
“No. Of course I’m—no,” he rushes out, and I use the heels of my shoes to push me away from my desk a little, the telephone cord stretching with me.
“What is it you’re concerned about?” Wasting time grates at my impatience, and I remind myself that I’m dealing with a politician.
Most of these motherfuckers couldn’t find a moral compass if it was shoved sideways up their assholes.
Waste seems to be the one thing they can agree on, across aisles.
Wasting time, resources, and the illegal funds they accept from us to secure their positions.
Yes, Congressman de la Matta was bought, paid for by Oswaldo Pineros, who wanted to see a Latino in office, taking care of fellow Latinos.
I always wonder what the fuck Papi saw in him, but it was never my place to question his decisions. Even in death, I wouldn’t dare voice my concerns. His legacy means far too much to me.
“That you have no idea what you’re signing up for.”
“Enlighten me, Congressman.”
“She’s…unwell.” He pauses as if he’s mulling over his next words. And then, “She’s a paranoid schizophrenic. We have reason to believe she’s no longer attending her mandated therapy sessions and there’s a safety concern.”
How do I tell this man that he sounds like he’s trying to sell me a crock of shit and pretending it’s chocolate?
“She seems perfectly intact to me,” is what I opt for instead.
“Yes, the few times you’ve seen her,” he interjects. “She’s wonderful at masking.”
“It must run in the family,” I toss out. He thinks he can pretend that he isn’t a criminal as well? Someone convincing the public that he works hard for them when in actuality, he’s a self-serving tonto .
“You can think whatever you’d like about me, Pineros, but I owe it to your father?—”
“You listen to me, you crooked motherfucker,” I spit out, my voice lowering to a level I rarely reach.
“Mention my father again, and I’ll make sure the last thing you see is your daughter taking my last name before I put a bullet in your shell of a skull.
Now get the fuck off my phone. And the next time I see you, your presence had better be accompanied with a fucking apology. ”
I slam the phone on the receiver and take a breath.
Is it the stress of having Hector loitering around my office, is it trying to make sure Taina is safe until the threat’s been handled, or is it my massive workload?
I don’t have the chance to dig deeper when Hector pokes his head inside my office, as if he sensed me thinking about how fucking annoying this is.
“You good, boss? ”
I wave my hand away before scrubbing both over my face with a groan. A headache is looming. I can just feel it coming.
“I’m fine,” I inform him.
He doesn’t say anything, and when I glance up, I see I’m alone again. Rather than wonder, I pick up my cell and call Berto for an update.
He answers on the first ring.
“She hasn’t left the house, but Fabián said there was some movement last night. I guess the lights came on and there was some yelling. But it didn’t last very long. As far as my current shift, I haven’t seen a sign of life from the house yet.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, leaning over to place my elbows on top of my desk. “Keep watch until Fabián shows up to relieve you.”
“Yes, boss.”
“And Berto?”
“Yes, boss?”
“Thank you.”
I end the call before he can respond and decide it’s time to get the fuck out of here. I need to shower and sit on my ass with a beer.
I’m about to pack up my things to leave when someone raps their knuckles on the open door, causing me to jerk my head up to see who’s there.
“ Mira, pendejo. Vamanos ,” César instructs, turning his head in the direction of the elevators down the hall. “ Quiero cervezas y bochinche tambien .”
“ Como una bochinchera? ” I ask, loving how he raises his brows at my use of Puerto Rican dialect. Like he wasn’t spewing it all day, every day when we were in college.
“Let’s get the fuck outta here. I can tell something crawled up your ass, and since you’ve dragged me out of my bullshit many times, I’m returning the favor.
Let’s go.” He even has the gall to snap his fingers.
This motherfucker. He’s lucky Ignacio thinks highly of his crazy ass and loves to outsource him .
“No one respects me around here,” I mutter, shaking my head as I grab my briefcase.
“Ay, man. Leave that shit here and let’s go.” He throws out his hand with his brows furrowed. Like I’m annoying him or something. The fuck?
“Hector’s coming, too,” I inform him, pointing to the man headed toward us, his face stoic. “You remember Hector, right?”
“The dude that your dad paid to follow you around in college so no one could beat your ass? Yeah, I remember him.”
It’s going to be a long night. I can already tell.
“I bet I’ll beat yours,” I tell him as I head toward the door.
“Not even on your best day.” His words make me chuckle.
We make our way to the elevators, Hector informing us that he’d meet us downstairs at my new car.
Nas gave all security strict instructions to canvass cars before anyone enters them, ever since mine got blown to fucking smithereens.
“What’s up with you?” César asks once Hector is out of earshot.
“Just—”
“A woman?”
“If you ask a question, you have to give me a chance to answer it,” I remind him as the elevator doors open and we step inside.
“I’m not giving you a chance to bullshit me, güey .” He emphasizes the last word, and it’s my turn to appear impressed at his usage of Mexican verbiage.
“Yes, motherfucker,” I answer with a pointed stare, pressing the button for the parking level. “There’s a woman that I like. But I can’t read her. One moment, things are getting intense between us, the next, she’s ignoring my calls and texts.”
César couldn’t hide his grin if he tried. And he doesn’t bother. The idea that a woman would reject me has his stupid ass tickled.
“If you want her, go get her.”
“It’s not that simple. I can’t just force her—you know what? I’m talking to the wrong person about this.” I know what he’s been up to.
He presses his hand to his chest in mock dismay. With his eyes this wide, it’s hard to remember that he’s one of the best private investigators in the state. Probably the country.
“Want me to look into her?”
And there he is, prepared to use his talents for his dear friend. Like I hadn’t already thought of that and found nothing. Hell, the only reason I hadn’t asked him was because I didn’t want him asking me stupid-ass questions. Like he is now.
“Nah. I think I’ve got this one. I may have just gotten the answer I need.” Paranoid schizophrenic, huh?
“Yeah, well, wait until I tell the guys.” He claps his hand over my shoulder, and I shrug it off.
“You’re so fucking annoying.”
“A really beautiful woman said that about me once before, too.”
“The one you’re gonna lose your license over?” I joke, watching the smile slide off his face.
“Keep talking shit,” he muses as the elevator doors open. “I should’ve left your ass to rot in your funky ass office.”