Chapter 6- Toughness
The toughness on Eduardo Delgaldo’s face often softened when he was around his children.
Ever protective and a guardian in their lives, he had a special affinity for his two younger sons, not sure if those around them were there for their best interests or to take advantage of the young men.
The young woman Micah had chosen as his guard also fascinated the Fer de Lance because he had difficulty reading her.
She kept her feelings and emotions close to the vest.
When she and Micah were at Las Tierras, she sat at the table with the family. When guests and officials of the cartel visited, she ate in the quarters with the other servants, although no one asked her to or required her to do so. Again, she fascinated Eduardo.
The plane had landed nearly an hour ago, and Micah strolled in, stated he needed to de-stress, changed his clothing, and headed for the pool.
Alita, not in the house, entered through the side door, coming face to face with the Fer de Lance.
She knew the routine and the procedure, but her loyalties lay with the man who paid her, not the grouchy one who was being extra nosey, labeled under the guise of protectiveness.
“Senor,” Alita said, addressing him first and stopping in front of him. He would begin his inquisition gently, probing her for information.
“How was the shopping?”
“All went well,” Alita said, providing the information he wanted, but leading him in a different direction than he wanted to go. “We stayed with Senor Tim during the trip.”
“At his home...how did that go?” Eduardo asked.
This was the rabbit hole where she'd hid the pelts. In her mind, this was a simple bait and switch if she could pull it off. However, the Fer de Lance would find a means to swing it back to what he wanted to find out.
“There was an issue with the bedding,” she began. “The Boss found the low-quality sheets to be disruptive to his sleep, in which Senor Tim offered the use of a set of silk sheets, not new. However, washed.”
The smirk on Alita’s face hooked the Fer de Lance, and he wanted to hear the rest of the story.
“Not new in the package, but washed,” Eduardo said, almost wanting to laugh before she finished.
“Sí, Senor, The Boss wanted to know if these were the sheets Senor Tim used for his sexy time,” Alita said, and Eduardo pressed his lips together.
“The Boss later confessed in private that the idea of Senor Tim's turd burglar activities on the sheets gave him the creepies, leaving The Boss to sleep on top of the covers rolled up in a 100 percent cotton matelassé coverlet.”
Eduardo didn't laugh. His attention was now drawn to the young woman.
Her hair wasn't in the normal bun she wore, but a fashionable braid that hung over her shoulder.
The normal black suit she often wore with a green shirt was not on her person; instead, she wore deep-colored, loose fitted denims, with a belt that matched a fashionable pair of boots and an emerald green button-down.
On the left breast of the shirt was an embroidered viper.
Alita also had on a lip glosser. He noticed these things because the young woman was always very plain. Today she was not.
The sound of the back door drew her attention as Micah entered through the kitchen from the pool.
He wore a black speedo and a pair of slides with a long towel draped over his shoulder, hanging low enough to partially cover the family jewels.
A cookie in hand, he walked past them and greeted his father.
To Alita he said, “I need to ride out to check on seventeen. We also need to stop by the lab to see the progress on the new oils with the coffee bore beetles before supper,” Micah said.
“Sure, thing Boss; horses or jeep?”
“Too hot and too late in the day to be horseback riding; let's take the Jeep. Does it need petrol?”
“Just filled the tank, and we are ready to roll when you are,” Alita replied.
“Good enough,” Micah said, nodding to his father, biting the cookie, and strolling away as if he weren't standing in front of them wearing just a pair of speedos that left nothing to the imagination.
This Eduardo also took note of, especially the lack of reaction from the young woman. He commented, “You don't seem to be...what is the word, blushy...blushy about his state of undress. The level of comfort...is there something I should know?”
“About what, Senor? The Boss swims every day in the same trunks,” Alita said.
“He is pretty much in a pair of underpants, and you didn't blush at his lack of clothing,” Eduardo commented.
“Senor, I spent the last nine months rubbing creams and salves over his body in the care of his tattoo,” she said. “I have lived at his side, with a few exceptions of time off to be with my family, for the past four years. What I am seeing is nothing new to my eyes. He is my Boss.”
Eduardo paused. “Is there anything else I need to know about the trip and visit to Tim the Johnson's home?”
“If there is, I'm certain the Boss will update you,” Alita said.
“Hmmp, so you're pretty loyal to him.”
“I am loyal to the man who pays me, yes,” Alita replied.
“Are you also loyal to the cartel?”
“I don't work for the cartel, Senor.”
“But he does.”
Alita faced Eduardo, looking him in the eyes. This was the interrogation portion of the conversations she despised, yet she knew it was coming. “No, Senor, he works for you. You work for the cartel.”
“My son is an inked member of the cartel, and at 18 years old, you should also be wearing his ink,” Eduardo said.
“The Boss is a glorified librarian and a historian for the cartel, serving as no more than a databank of facts, figures, and rules,” Alita said, hoping the Czar didn't cut out her tongue for what she was about to say next.
“He has no crew and no territory and generates revenue by creating oils and natural pesticides that you sell to other farmers.”
“Are you saying my son is soft?”
“No, he has a higher purpose outside of selling sweaty bodies in low-rent buildings or packing product to hit the back-alley ways,” Alita said.
“His scientific mind is protected by the cartel because he is a man of use. Service to humanity can come in different forms, outside of branded ink and lineage. What he will leave in this world pales in comparison to the journey he has just begun, Senor.”
Eduardo stared at her. “You're smarter than you let on.”
“Would the Boss keep me on his payroll if I could not match his intellect? He does not suffer fools or vapid women,” she threw out a precursor to what was coming their way.
“Is that a warning shot across my bow?”
“Senor, I am a simple guard. My job is to protect the Boss. That is what I am paid to do,” Alita added.
“And by offering me just enough information, do you consider yourself protecting him from me?”
“A mirror can never see itself, Senor,” she said as Micah came down the stairs, hair still damp and noticing Alita's body language. He stopped in front of his father.
“Papa, is everything okay?”
“She is wearing her hair differently and new clothes; the trip went well?” Eduardo asked.
“Sí, Papa, Tim the Johnson showed us how to make simple meals, prepare the list for the shopping for food, and do the laundry,” Micah said. “I've never done laundry or washed the dirty dishes. Living on our own will be a challenge.”
Eduardo turned to Alita and asked, “Do you think it will be a challenge, Alita?”
“No, Senor, I do not,” Alita said. “The Boss doesn't like clutter, so cleaning up behind himself should be no issue since I have no intention of being his maid or cook.”
“I didn't ask you to,” Micah said, challenging her in front of his father.
“I seem to recall you burned the chicken, Boss, and struggled to change the scratchy bedding opting to sleep on top of the covers, but we shall see,” Alita said, the side of her lip quivering.
“The temperature of the oil was not optimal! Plus, there was too much oil in the pan, and the meat would have the greasy texture, removing the oil, wait, you are making the funny,” Micah said, scowling at her.
He squinted his eyes, growled, and went for the door.
He threw up his hand in defeat but also a statement of them moving forward. “Alita! We ride!”
She shrugged and offered Eduardo a slight smile that faded quickly.
He watched her follow his son out the door, taking the front seat of the Jeep.
From under the seat, she extracted an automatic assault rifle that she held like a guerrilla riding into the village to steal chickens and eggs and possibly an untouched maiden.
At his side, Eduardo’s wife, Ryanne appeared.
“They are a funny pair,” she said softly.
“I'm not sure I understand what I see when I'm looking at them,” Eduardo said. “The next few weeks are going to be interesting.”
“Sure, I will,” Ryanne offered. “You know he is going to find fault with each one of your selections.”
He turned quickly to face his wife. “You think so?”
“I know so because none of them will be like Alita,” Ryanne said.
“He's made his choice on who he wants to spend his life with; they simply have to go through the motions and figure it out. He loves her, or the equivalent of his expression of it, or whatever that may be in his head. She came back with three suitcases of clothing, including ballgowns.”
“Ball gowns? I do not understand,” Eduardo said.
“He is planning for Alita to sit at his side,” Ryanne explained.
“I'm sure Tonda had tuxedos, but I never saw you put him in one to dine at the table with you and honored guests.
He stood behind you at the table and never sat next to you for formal affairs, and even then, he wasn't wearing a tux. Micah purchased ball gowns for her. She also has her hair down. They are letting you know that they are making choices.”
“I don't know if I like the choices.”