The Goodbye Girl (Red Market Series Book 2) (17 page)

I should have known she would be at some ritzy upmarket touristy hotel, nothing like the places I like to stay. So open and in the line of sight. The opera of emotion begins to sing inside my head as the valet grabs the keys from Hugo,
Hugo my brother.
 

I woke today with complete clarity. While I know my mother is my enemy, she is still my mother. I need to make her go home so I can keep my child safe. I know she isn’t going to leave without me. My mother has designs on my future and I have held her up long enough that she has lost her temper and come to drag me home, kicking and screaming. The fact she knows that I have a child, no less one that I have had an inappropriate relationship with is driving her to punish me more. I will forever be the wicked son, the bad boy, the disappointment. The fucking disease. I do not have a full plan yet, but I need to keep control of the acoustic warfare in my head long enough to outsmart my mother and Mateo. 

I avoid the crowds by walking along the edge of the lobby towards the lift, I see my reflection in the shiny gold doors. My new limp, my graying hair and the melted skin peeking out of my shirt collar. I don’t see those things I see infinite deaths and the faces of all the ones I kissed goodbye. The image makes me wish for the day I kiss my monstrous mother's corpse. I am a deplorable person to wish her dead, but she is worse than me in every way. The doors chime closed behind us, there are other people in here. I struggle to swallow, fiddling with the neck of my shirt. I stare at our faces in the mirrored wall, the lady behind me starts to whisper to her friend and the landmines in my head begin to explode. I close my fists and my eyes, I try to stop it. I grind my teeth together, Hugo puts a hand on my shoulder steadying me. Restraining me from turning to attack the innocent woman. The floors pass by slowly, it seems time stands still as her murmurs blare through my mind, ripping the clear space I had found to shreds. I am a fool to think I can stop it.

They exit two floors before we do and I have a few minutes to steel myself against the upcoming assault. Their room door swings open and Mateo greets us with a sinister smile on his face; he looks like the cat that ate the canary. Well, I am the dog that will eat the cat.

“Hello Caesar,” he whispers and my resolve is lost.

Come when you’re called,

Do what you’re bid

Shut the door after you,

Never be chid.

Mateo is my
best asset at this point; the budding power struggle between them is the perfect way to get my deviant son back under control. My grandson however is disposable, I am under no illusion that the boy is anything but mad. I have already looked into institutions capable of dealing with his unique set of quirks, but I fear he is beyond even that. He is a necrophiliac, there I said it. Only time and circumstance keep him from spiraling into the serial killer category. Our business may be death, but killing for that sort of gratification is sick. A disease like Caesar’s, something rotten festers in their genes those two.

His eyes light up when he sees Caesar in our hotel room doorway, there is a wicked glint in them and a snarling smile creeps onto his dark face as he whispers. 

“Hello, Caesar.” Successfully turning my son into a demon that cannot be controlled. The softness of his voice combined with the soft tones of the Spanish music playing in my room illicit a growl from Caesar. A feral noise like that of an animal defending its territory, he is on the edge of attacking Mateo when I kiss his rough stubbly cheek and greet him. 

“Hello, son,” he cringes, “so glad you came, I have missed you.” He hasn’t missed me I can see in his eyes, he never misses me. It is a bitter pill to swallow when your child cannot love you like you love them. I cup his face in my arthritic hand and look into his eyes. I see the war he is fighting against the noise, against me. “Let’s go downstairs to the restaurant for lunch boys, shall we?” I motion towards to door; we are all safer in a public setting with Caesar. With him being this close to a violent outburst it is better, not that it would stop him but it may give us time. 

“Whatever you like, Madre,” he answers, walking back out of the door, grinding his teeth so hard I can see his jaw moving. I grab my purse and Mateo’s elbow as we walk out after them, closing the door behind us. Being confined in a lift with Caesar is something unique, I can see every side of him in the mirrors as I hum softly, the descent making my stomach twist. His back muscles tense as he stands tall in front of me, I see so much of his father in him. Hugo has a hand resting on his shoulder, he has always been his keeper. Even when they were boys Hugo would take care of him when he lost his composure. Somehow always knew what my boy needed after an episode. He was quite good at preventing them for some time in their teens, but when a string of raped and abused girls started pointing fingers or disappearing, I had to put a stop to his methods. The boys were thick as thieves until Caesar killed two young girls and Hugo had to wipe up their blood. Hugo became withdrawn and silent after that; they were only about fifteen at the time. He just quietly took care of things after that day, a shadow. They really do look like brothers now that stand there together.

“Ramira, welcome back.” The man in his silly tuxedo greets me at the door with false enthusiasm, while waving for waiter to take us to my table in the back of the room. The crisp white linens, silver cutlery and fine china make me feel at home. I like fine things. I was raised with fine things and worked hard as a doctor to give my children fine things. My children however didn’t appreciate or deserve them. My daughters were entitled whores who produced the likes of Mateo. Make no mistake, Ophelia was destined to be another embarrassment. He did us favor killing her, probably one of the few good deeds Mateo has ever committed. 

Mateo pulls out my chair and helps me in before he sits down, while my son collapses into a chair opposite us with little regard for manners of any kind. 

“Caesar, order some wine for us.” I hand him the wine list from my side of the table and hope that will get rid of the hovering waiter for at least a few minutes.

“I don’t drink wine Madre, ask Mateo to order for you.” He shoves the book at his nephew with force, shaking the table. He looks over this broad shoulders at the waiter and says “I want Brandy, neat, ice in a separate
clean
glass.” Then looks at Mateo, waiting on his wine selection. 

“Bodegas Muga Rioja, please.” He snaps the book closed and and hands it over Caesar’s head to the waiter, who must sense the tension. I am sure everyone in the room can feel it. We settle into an awkward silence and concentrated death glares. The Mexican standoff between them broken by Caesar who speaks first.

“The landlord came for you today.” A serious frown wrinkles his brow.

“The rent is paid, I swear,” Mateo shouts back, loud already forgetting that we discussed how he should talk to Caesar. I rest my hand on his forearm, the hideous tattoos now covered by a respectable blue dress shirt.

“Mateo, my boy. Let him finish speaking, you don’t need to be angry.” Soft smooth words are the poker stoking the fire inside my son. 

“Oh, he wants money, but not for rent.” Caesar pulls at his collar, fidgeting with it. “To keep your secrets you stupid cunt, your dirty bloody heart shaped secret. The one that you left in the freezer. You fucking idiot.” I watch his chest rising with heated breaths and rising anger. “The police found it you stupid cunt. They raided the building looking for
her.
” I watch Mateo shrinking away, shriveling up, intimidated by his uncle. He stinks of fear. Only his eyes are not on Caesar but Hugo, who looks at him with the venom of a poisonous snake. 

“Son, did you deal with it?” This is a genuine matter of concern, our entire operation could be exposed and shut down before we have a plan in place to move it. 

“Let’s see, Madre, the police have his dead fuck-toy’s heart, so no I did not deal with it.” He sighs, trying not to create a spectacle and attempting to quiet the noise that must be raging in his head by now. “It cannot be dealt with, because he cannot stop.” Pointing a finger at Mateo whose eyes are down as his shoulders slump; a failure again. "Ma, Mateo is never going to stop, this time his dick overruled his business sense and he took a politician's daughter. A twelve year old girl! And you know what?” His words are growled out now and his face red with raw unrestrained anger. "When she was in a coma, essentially dead, just waiting to become the spares to save another. He fucked her. Madre, he fucks dead girls, and occasionally boys too.” 

The freshly poured red wine flies through the air as glasses are overturned and silverware clatters to floor around us. Mateo is huffing like a Spanish bull on the charge as he launches over the table at Caesar, yelling at the top of his lungs 

“I never touched her, I loved her!” People are staring at us and I see the manager ushering other guests out as the two men dissolve into an uncivilized fist fight on the floor. When the room is clear of outsiders and I see that Hugo isn’t going to stop them, I am forced to yell.

“Stop it! You idiots.” It doesn’t work so I smack at the moving bundle of limbs rolling around the floor with my cane until they stop. Bloodied, untucked shirts and missing buttons, they pant and hiss and look at the floor like the scorned school boys they are. 

“Get up you revolting excuses for humans and sit down, we are here to have lunch and we will fucking have lunch!” They don’t make any move to get up. “¡ahora!”

Once new wine is poured and we have ordered food, I decide it is time to have real talk with them, one they won’t like at all. 

“Now that you have calmed down I have business matters to go over. I will talk, you will listen and follow instructions.” I treat them like children because their actions are those of children.

“Hugo, deal with this police issue, pay who we need to pay.” He nods, confirmation that he understands. The corrupt police here are easy enough to control with some money all can be forgotten.

“Son, deal with the landlord. Properly. Then you have three weeks to get things running smoothly before you and I return home, 
together.
 Mateo can take over here.” It is an order not a request. I will drug him and load him on the plane if I have to.

“Mateo, if you fuck up one more thing I will kill you myself boy. I don’t care what you do to them inside that building. No part of them leaves the building - ever unless it is going inside a paying customer. You also do not accept bodies that will be looked for, you fuckwit.” These are simple rules I shouldn’t have to repeat, they should be ingrained in them by now. "Hugo will stay here with you and keep things the way they should be, you will need the help.” I try to stay calm, I doubt that my son is just going to accept this, but I will try.

“I will stay here in the hotel, out of your debauchery and way until we are ready to go home. This is not a negotiation, this is me,
the boss
issuing instructions to her employees.” The waiter disturbs us to take our lunch orders. My appetite gone with the stress these ingrates have caused, all I order is a small salad. They all just look at me with wide eyes, I have stayed away for years as long as the orders were filled. I turned a blind eye, but after being here my heart aches for my son and the cacophony in his mind. I want to take him home and love him and fix him, I always just wanted to fix him. 

“You will stay in here?” Caesar asks skeptical about me leaving them alone.

“Yes, unless you lot fuck anything else up. Just fix it all, get things running right and come home.” He runs his hand along the stubble of his strong jaw, contemplating me and my answer.

“I will go home, in three weeks.” He says it but not I will come home with you Madre. I will go home - alone is implied - an unspoken threat.

“Good, let us enjoy lunch then you can all go, before I get a bill for any more damages.” It takes everything in me to stay silent and not speak. I am afraid of his submissive answer, and the omission of me from that answer. I cannot push him, I need to be quiet to win him back. I need a better plan.