Chapter 14 A Hook to the Heart
Ernesto
The air in the conference room is heavy with the scent of marigolds.
Real samples were brought in from different flower shops to pick the final vendor for the event our marketing team has developed for the El Dia de los Muertos celebration in October.
Rendering of grand ofrenda’s, vibrant papel picado banners, and calaveras painted with the Rey del Sol logo.
“The main stage will be here,” Janette, our head of events, points a laser at a map of Pershing Square. “We’ll have continuous musical performances, folklore dancers, and at sundown, we project the story of La Llorona onto the Biltmore building.”
I nod, my mind only half on the presentation.
The other half is replaying the images of Alejandra kneeling before on my bedroom floor, her bright brown eyes full of defiance and fear.
The memory has a heat that has nothing to do with the projected sales figures on the screen.
I can still feel the phantom sting of her nails digging into my arm.
An intern, a nervous kid named Mark with glasses too big for his face, fumbles with a stack of papers and drops them across the polished floor.
A collective gasp sounds throughout the room.
I see the kid’s mortified expression, his cheeks flushing a deep crimson as he scrambles to gather the sheets.
“Take your time, kid,” I say apathetically. “We aren’t going anywhere.”
The room goes completely and utterly silent. Every head turns towards me and Janette’s laser pointer shakes. I see Felipe, ever the sentinel by the door, shifting his weight around.
Mark looks up at me, his eyes wide with disbelief, as if I'd just sprouted a second head.
I cock an eyebrow at him. I may have shown him grace but that doesn't mean I’m going to wait forever.
He gives me a jerky nod, gathers the last of the papers, and scurries back to his seat against the wall–holding onto those papers as if his life depended on it.
“As I was saying,” Janette resumes, her voice a little less uncertain than before. “The projections will require three high capacity projectors…”
When the meeting concludes and everyone files out. Their chatter is a little more enthusiastic than usual, but I notice their slight glances at me.
We move along the hallway that leads towards my office, our footsteps the only sound that can be heard. As we reach the heavy oak doors to my office Felipe opens one for me, and I step inside. I loosen my tie and walk to the wet bar to pour myself a glass of water.
Felipe remains standing at the door, which is unusual for him. Usually he retreats to his post just outside, but today he’s lingering. I can see his reflection in the ceiling high window, his brow furrowed, his expression troubled.
I take a slow sip of water, the cool liquid doing nothing to quench this strange restlessness. “Are you waiting for an invitation? Say what you need to say and get out.”
“Jefe,” he starts, his voice low and cautious. “Mire, con todo respeto…is everything alright with you?”
I turn from the window, one eyebrow raised. The question is so out of character for him it catches me completely off guard. That was not what I was expecting at all. “I’m fine. ?Qué te hace pensar que algo está mal?”
He takes a step further into the office, closing the door softly behind him. The move signals this is not a casual questioning. “You’ve acting differently today.”
“Speak clearly Felipe, I don’t have time for idiotic riddles.”
“In the meeting,” he starts to explain. “You smiled. Twice actually. Once, because of the sugar skull branding, and again when the new numbers came in from the southern distributors. And then…you were lenient with that intern and congratulated another one.”
“All I did was tell him to take his time and I didn’t congratulate anyone.”
“After the meeting, you stopped in the hallway and called over Jaison, a different intern, and told him his research on the historical significance of the cempasuchil flower was well-executed. You called it a ‘menial but necessary task well done.’” Felipe’s face is a mask of genuine confusion.
“I’ve seen you fire a man for merely speaking to you before starting a meeting.
But today you complimented an intern for a simple google search. ”
I stare at him because he’s right. I hadn’t even realized what I was doing. A bark of laughter escapes me, loud and unrestrained in the quiet of my office. The vibrations feeling foreign in my chest.
Felipe’s expression shifts from concern to outright alarm.
“Maldita sea,” I mutter, running a hand over my face.
One night. One fucking night with that women.
Of pushing her and feeling her body come apart on my fingers, and I'm walking around my own company like a benevolent king handing out compliments.
The sheer absurdity of it is dumbfounding.
That little spitfire has managed to soften my edges without me realizing it.
“Forget it, Felipe,” I say, my voice still holding a trace of amusement. “A momentary lapse of judgement.”
He gives me a long, skeptical look but knows better than to press the issue, simply nods, “Si, Patron.”
Just as he turns to leave, my personal cell phone–the one in my drawer–rings. That number is unlisted and is used only for family emergencies. My first thought is Camilla, if she’s been hurt.
I move quickly to my desk and look at the screen. It’s a number with a local area code I don’t recognize. Swiping the phone to unlock it, and answer, my tone clipped. “Who is this?”
A beat of silence, and then a voice with a playful sass that is becoming infuriatingly familiar comes through.
“What, you don’t know your own wife’s number, carino?”
A smirk pulls at my lips despite myself. I quickly school my expression, though, seeing as Felipe is still standing in the room.
“I’m busy, Alejandra. What do you want?”
“Mmm so grumpy,” she chides, and I can practically hear her rolling her eyes. “I’m just calling to ruin your lovely day with some gossip. My best friend called me today screaming at me.”
I drag my hand down my face, picturing her at the house, probably bored out of her mind. “Get to fucking point Alejandra.”
“The point is, my dear husband, that a picture of Veronica and me is circulating in some online gossip magazine. Apparently, the younger sister of Tequila Mogul,Ernesto Damos, was spotted on a shopping spree with her new sister-in-law. They even got a shot of me holding like, ten shopping bags. Kari thinks I’ve been kidnapped and brainwashed into a cult of rich people. ”
My jaw tightens. So, it begins. I’d expected the news to reach the public eye but I had wanted to control the narrative.
“I’ll get it fixed,” I assure her. I’ll have Mateo issue a cease and desist, and have the security team find the photographer. Have them make it very clear that any future photos taken without and published without my explicit permission will come with severe consequences.
“Okay, fix it Felix.” Her tone is lighter now, the worry replaced by that defiant spark.
“Anyway, I just wanted to let you know the hot gossip, Consuelo had to give me your number because apparently this fancy new phone you gave me comes with everyone and their mama, except yours” She continues as if I have all the time in the world to listen to her yap.
“I could be laying on the side of the road half dead and I wouldn’t be able to get ahold of you. ”
“Alejandra, you’re testing my patience.” I gripe back at her which in turn earns me a giggle from her.
“Ok damn, I just wanted to let you know Hector is dropping my dad and me off at the hospital around 12:30 and then after we’re going–”
I just hung up and hold the phone to my face, astonished at the audacity of this woman.
I place the phone back in the drawer and look up to find Felipe is still here, but now his face wears an expression I've never seen before. It’s a strange mix of awe and fear.
“?Qué diablos te pasa, Felipe? En vez de quedarte parado como tarado, ve y arréglate con El Rata, que lo necesito para una chamba.” I say, my irritation is beginning to bubble over.
Felipe shakes his head slowly “Nada Patron,” he says, his voice calm and walks out leaving me alone in my office.