Orders
He stood stiff and at
attention. Despite never being in a formal military the men in El Ojo knew
discipline; how else did they work as such an oiled machine.
“You
have a new assignment shooter.” Santiago didn’t move eager to hear where Emilio
would send him next, so long as it removed him from this forsaken desert.
“We’ve
had an unexpected situation. Due to lack of… finesse.” The word lingered in the
air as Emilio carefully cut the end of a cigar. Rolling it between his fingers
with a smooth motion. Coming closer he lowered his face to Santiago. The stench
of tequila assaulted him, with a heavy dose of pungent cologne. He could see
his perfectly shaved face and gelled pepper and salt hair. Although he was in
his 60s, wrinkles were just beginning to crevice into shallow groves ringing
the corner of his narrow eyes.
A
contrast from Santiago’s disheveled hair that hung longer then usual out of his
stiffened and dust covered hat. His wide eyes alert; pools of deep brown set
symmetrically in smooth tan skin. The stubble prickled around his chin and
checks from days of being unshaved.
“I
need my best man on this, a simple pick up and delivery.” Pausing he handed him a photo. Santiago
once again noticed the striking constant between his brown cracked hands and Emilio’s
manicured digits. Taking the photo he gazed seeing a young boy, large in
statute with a mop of black curly hair. He was walking out of a college
university building. Nothing stood out to Santiago as a threat.
“Looks
like an easy target, alive or dead?” Santiago asked curtly.
“Alive.
He owes us assets and needs to be set as an example." He Emilio took a long
drag on his cigar reveling in the smooth smoke he exhaled.
“So
much like your father.” He slapped him on his back wrapping his arm across his
neck and resting one soft hand his shoulder. Emilio turned to Carlos, who lacked the rigid form of Santiago.
He tried to stand tall knowing about the brutality of Emilio. Rather he shook
and looked like a shivering puppy. He quickly bent his head down trying to hide
the fear on his face. This was the first time he had seen Emilio in person. He
snorted and paced back to Santiago.
Emilio
lead him a few steps away as he placed his cigar on the desk near him. Letting
it smolder in an ashtray. He replaced it with two shots of clear liquid holding
them expertly between his fingers and palm.
“Take
one. Let’s celebrate.” He released his hold handing one of the shot glasses to
Santiago. Before releasing the shot to him he paused inspecting the boy. No
emotion crossed his face. The stare lingered waiting for him to crack. Nothing.
Finally
he passed him the glass. The shot glass felt cold from the chilled liquor
between Santiago’s fingers. Emilio lifted his head with a low guttural laugh.
“Salud
Santi. To the death of your father a year ago today.” He clicked his glass with
Santiago’s sending a drop of liquid spilling over Santiago’s fingers. Emilio
looked down as he poured the shot into parted lips; waiting to see the
expression, or shock on Santiago’s face. Once again, nothing.
Santiago
took the shot eyes open still locked on Emilio’s curious gaze. The tequila
burned the back of his throat as the liquid coursed down. Filling his upper body
with instant heat. Not even a flinch crossed his face.
“He
was brave even in the moment before his death.” Emilio added picking up a cloth
napkin from the table and dabbing his lips of excess liquid. His eyebrows raised slightly in anticipation.
The
tequila’s warmth faded traveling down to his stomach still empty from the night
before. Pushing down with it the words that traveled almost reaching his mouth,
replaced with thoughtful guarded ones instead.
“So
I’ve heard.”
“You
truly are your father’s son. He would be proud.” Emilio paused refolding the
napkin with perfect creases. “Go rest and clean up, we’ll take care of you
tonight, a good meal and discuss payments. You leave in the morning.”
Santiago
nodded his head in understanding. Emilio had turned back to the desk bending
over to place the napkin back on the table and pick up the cigar. Santiago had
a moment of reprieve. A silent breath escaped his lips releasing with it the
tension he guarded so closely, and for a brief second he closed his eyes.
Feeling a crack in his heart as a strange feeling seeped from the open cavern.
A strange familiarity hovered around him for the briefest of moments, delicate
and powerful, immediately replacing the buzzing of the alcohol. He opened his
eyes, feeling a presence perched just beyond his reach. Waiting.
