33. CARLOS
CARLOS
T he day has finally arrived. When we arrived home late last night, my father wasn’t around.
Not that it mattered. He never paid any attention to Enrico when he was here, so I was confident nobody would notice him not being here.
Enrico has always been renowned for leaving for days before returning, acting like he had never left.
I did however call him this morning to let him know that my meeting was a success, and that as a token of good will, Igor will be joining us for drinks. He bought it. His naivety makes me question how he has ever maintained this kingdom of his.
All plans are in place set for late afternoon, just before sundown.
Lev has texted me to let me know they are all together and ready for action.
One of Marin’s men who has been named as my direct contact, has confirmed their arrival.
I’m hoping for a fast takeover. I’m salivating at the idea of the main course of today.
Ending the bastards that tried to take the one thing I care about in life. That shit won‘t fly with me.
Lucas, Mark, and I went over our plans again this morning. They know what I want and are happy to support me. I couldn’t have done this without them.
I’m currently looking through the small selection of knuckle dusters I brought with me, just in case anything happens. The decision is too hard as I love them all. As I run my fingers back and forth over the various styles, my phone beeps with a text from Pedro.
P: I’m outside. Can we talk?
Me: I’ll be right there.
I hastily walk through the house to get to Pedro, who is waiting outside at the back of the house. Pacing up and down.
“Hey,” I say, and I'm met with fury. He pushes me back with both hands as I stumble, but manage to remain standing.
“What the hell?” I say.
“I thought you were fucking dead. You were supposed to contact me straight after the meeting, you dumbshit.”
“Hey, no need for name calling and I’m sorry. So much happened that I forgot.”
“Not good enough. Do you know what I risked arranging that meeting for you?”
I approach him and wrap my arms around him for a quick hug before pulling away.
“I know. I’m sorry, I’m a dick for not calling. But the good thing is it went well.”
“Really? So what's the plan?”
“They’re helping me today, to get out. That's all I can say for now, but I suggest you go back home today. It's better if you're not here for when the bomb drops.”
“Whatever you say,” he says gently and smiles at me like he did when we were boys.
I’m just about to thank Pedro for all that he has done, before what appears to be a small lamp smashes on the ground next to us. This is then followed by a ceramic figurine that is so close to hitting my head, I hear the woosh as it also smashes at my feet.
I look up to see what's going on, only to see the sight of Simon on his balcony, now holding another lamp.
“Have you lost your mind?” I shout up to him.
“You could've killed us, you son of a bitch. Carlos, who is he?” Pedro says, unimpressed.
“That’s him. The guy I told you about.”
“Oh, he’s a sweetheart,” he says sarcastically, taking a step back.
“You motherfucker. Didn’t take you long to move on. Is your dick that bored?” he shouts, and my father’s guard, Diogo comes outside to see the commotion, only to find it hilarious.
“Shit. I thought dating dudes would be easier than women,” he jokes and I just ignore him.
“Simon, go back inside.”
He starts to raise the lamp in his hand, ready to throw it at us, but shouts out in pain as he drops the lamp to the ground. I don’t even say goodbye or explain myself to Pedro, I just rush upstairs. I rush to him.
As I enter his room, he is struggling to walk inside. I look at his back where some blood seeps through the bandage. Lucas comes running inside.
“What happened?”
“Can you get the doctor, please? He has torn his stitches.”
Lucas leaves without question while I get Simon to lie on his front on the bed.
“Fucking dumbass. Lifting and throwing things when your back is like this? It’ll never heal if you keep pulling stunts like this.”
“Oh fuck off, Carlos. Go be with your whore.”
“Pedro is no whore and I explained who he is. You need to control this jealousy.”
“I’m not jealous. I’m pissed. Because of you I’m like this, then you parade that…that…that harlot under my window!”
“Harlot?” I can’t help but laugh. “Have you been reading a lot, Simon?”
“Fuck. You. Just get out.”
“No. You want me here.”
“I don’t.”
“You do. You can’t be jealous and say you don’t want me.”
We are interrupted by the doctor who swiftly checks Simon’s back.
“Fortunately it's nothing too bad. I’ve re-stitched the area that came apart. It shouldn't slow down healing, but if you insist on doing too much, you could be looking at months of recovery, so no lifting and throwing for at least another three weeks.”
“Are you listening, Simon?” I ask as he hasn’t responded.
“Yes I get it. Can you all just leave, please? I’ve got a headache.”
The doctor and Lucas both leave the room and I’m unsure whether I was included in the dismissal.
“Do you want me to stay?” I ask.
“This is so toxic, Carlos. I can’t do this with you. Please just leave.”
The old Simon is coming back, shutting me out, but I get it. Time is what we need.
“You rest. You’ll need your strength for later,” I say before leaving Simon on the bed, motionless and no doubt his head swirling with all kinds of shit.
The priority is to get him home. Then it's to get Simon to come back from the dark hole he is buried in. Even if I have to force him.