Emmy And Me

Sure enough, the whole crew was there taking up the entire place, as small as it was. I took an empty seat at one of the tables and the waitress hustled over to put a cold Coke in front of me.

“We took the liberty of ordering for you,” Michael explained, and in just a few minutes the waitress started serving the food. I’d eaten earlier with Emiliano and Katrina, but the smell of the arepas piqued my hunger, so I dove in along with everybody else.

As we ate we took turns informing the group of what we had discovered or what was going on. I explained once more that bringing the locals into our shadow wasn’t necessarily the primary goal and that I was perfectly happy to have them stay independent if they wished, but I still wanted to do what we could for them. I explained that if they did want our help I’d be happy to build or fund cultural centers and schools in Albornoz and Tierra Bomba, in addition to figuring out some sort of work opportunities for the locals.

I also told them I was working on acquiring vehicles- a boat as well as cars for our crew. The boat would necessarily involve a local operator, preferably a local Night Child if I could manage to arrange that.

When I was asked how long I expected the operation to take, I said it depended entirely on the locals. If they tell us to shove off, we shove off. If they say they want our help, we may have a permanent presence of some sort there in Cartagena.

“But at the minimum? I’d expect a couple of months,” I said. “Long enough for the locals to get to know us and what we bring to the table.”

Maggie mentioned that she and Jody had met and hung out a couple of times with a pair of local Night Children who were very interested in coming under our shadow. I congratulated the two of them and told them to keep doing whatever it is they’ve been doing, since it obviously works.

When the meeting adjourned, I asked Michael why this particular place was selected.

“There are two reasons,” he explained. “First off, nobody anywhere around here speaks English, so we could talk with confidence that none of the restaurant staff would have any idea of what was being discussed. The second reason is that, as you can see, this neighborhood needs any cash influx it can get, and if the owners of this place think of Night Children as good customers, well, there’s a bit of the ‘hearts and minds’ approach.”

“Works for me,” I said. “Now I just need to figure out how to get back to the old town.”

“Not a problem,” Michael answered with a smile, turning to Ricky.

“The van’ll be here in just a couple of minutes,” Ricky confirmed.

“We’ve got the direct phone number to a taxi driver who has one of those big Toyota vans,” Michael said. “He has been very responsive to our needs.”

Sure enough, a white HiAce pulled up just a moment later. Even with its many seats, we still had one too many passengers. Maggie sat on Jody’s lap, confirming my suspicions about the two.

I got out with everybody else at their hotel in Getsemani, opting to walk back to my own lodgings. Thinking about Cartagena and the place we’d just had our meeting, I reflected on the fact that I’d really not seen much of the city outside the tourist zones of the Walled City and Getsemani. My impression of the place was based on a small part of the overall- an atypical part at that. Realistically, I knew that most of the city had more in common with where we’d just been than it did with the parts I was familiar with, but still… It was the touristy historic parts of town I was falling in love with.

I really hadn’t even spent any time in Bocagrande or Castillo Grande, where all the high-rise condo buildings and hotels were located. Sure, I’d seen all that- you couldn’t miss how those buildings dominated the skyline- but otherwise the area held very little interest for me. It just looked like any built out part of South Florida from a distance.

But for us? I could see buying a place locally if Angela showed any interest, providing the local Night Children wanted our shadow. Just as I was thinking along those lines I passed a local real estate office that had a bunch of property listings in the window, so naturally I stopped to take a look. I was a bit surprised at how high the prices were for the handful of historic homes they had listed. If I had to guess, looking at the few comparables, the Castro family home was probably in the one and a half million US dollars range, which was significant money.

I snapped a picture of one listing that looked intriguing. It was pretty good-sized, but needed a complete renovation. I actually found that appealing, since we could build it out however we wanted. It had a large zaguan leading into a significant courtyard with arched porticoes along all four sides, and the second floor had a full balcony wrapping all the way around the courtyard opening. Very cool and very traditional Spanish colonial.

Daydreaming about how I’d remodel that house, I logged on to the realtor’s website when I got back to my room and scrolled through the pictures and the floor plan, all the while thinking about the advice I’d given Angela on home buying in London. ‘A condo in Bocagrande would make a lot more sense,’ I told myself, but that didn’t stop me from fantasizing about that historic district house.

Realizing it was getting late, I showered and changed into something a little more ‘going out’ appropriate. This certainly wasn’t going to be a date, but I didn’t want to smell sweaty or look too casual if we were going out to a nice club or something.

Katrina looked as if she missed the ‘not a date’ memo, with her bra top and full-length skirt combo in a tropical floral print. Or maybe that was her ‘out on the town’ outfit- I wasn’t going to ask.

Emiliano was there, and as Katrina and I made to head out he cautioned her to be careful and to stick with me. “And watch your drinks,” he told her.

Once we were out of earshot she rolled her eyes. “I know he worries because he loves me,” she said, “but I’m a grown woman now, not just a little kid.”

“Still not bad advice,” I told her.

“No, it’s not,” she grudgingly admitted.

While we walked, she asked me, “Does that happen to you a a lot? Randos just walking up and asking if you want to buy drugs?”

“Like that guy just now? Yeah, it happens a lot, but they take the hint when you tell ‘em to buzz off,” I replied. “I guess I’ve gotten so I don’t even really notice them or the guys selling the crappy hats or whatever to tourists.”

“Don’t get me wrong, it happens a lot in Miami, too, but not so much or quite as, um, openly as it does here,” Katrina said. Then, changing the subject, she asked, “Where are we going?”

“I thought you had something in mind?” I asked, surprised.

“Um, yeah, I’ve got a few places bookmarked,” she admitted, pulling out her phone.

Soon enough we found ourselves at a rooftop bar with a DJ playing reggaeton. Since it was still early, not many people were dancing, so we scored a table with a view over the rooftops of a colonial church spire, the towers of Bocagrande off in the distance.

“Dad said you’re married to Emmy Lascaux from The Downfall?” Katrina asked after we got our drinks.

“That’s right,” I agreed, enjoying the tropical rum drink whose name I’d already forgotten.

“I still think it’s cool that gay couples can get married now,” Katrina said.

“Yeah, I do, too,” I told her.

Surprised by my comment, she took a moment, then laughed. “Yeah, I guess so,” she agreed. “So what’s it like to be married to the sexiest woman alive?”

“Pretty damned good,” I told her, waggling my eyebrows as best I could. “Really damned good.”

She laughed and slapped me on the shoulder. “No, seriously. I mean, like, she’s on tour right now, right? So why aren’t you with her? I totally would be.”

“Work,” I said. “I’ve only gotten to see a few shows this tour. I saw them in Paris, then in London-”

“At the Prince Albert Hall, right?” Katrina asked, her eyes wide in excitement. “I saw that one on TV.”

“The Royal Albert Hall,” I corrected. “And yeah, that was one of the shows I saw. More recently, I got to watch all their shows in Asia and Australia, and most recently in Bogotá.”

“That’s so cool,” she said. Then, thinking about it, she asked, "So why did you come here to Cartagena after Bogotá? I mean, this place is cool and all, but…”

“It seemed like the thing to do,” I said, dodging the question.

“I guess,” Katrina replied, leaning back and crossing her arms. She was just about to say something else when a drunk guy about our age came over to our table and from what I understood, asked Katrina if she wanted to dance. She told him she wasn’t interested, and he took it with good grace and left.

Her train of thought derailed, she suggested that maybe after we finished our drinks we could find someplace else.

“This place isn’t as cool as I thought it would be,” she said.

We hit two other places before finally settling on a dance club that seemed to be mostly filled with Europeans. The EDM the DJ was playing wasn’t really what the locals seemed to like, but all the refugees from Ibiza seemed to love it, so the dance floor was packed. We danced quite a bit, sometimes with each other and other times with whoever else was handy.

Speaking of handy, one guy in particular really seemed to be into Katrina, to the point where she dragged me off the dance floor and to a secluded couch to get away from the guy.

“No, I don’t want a Canadian boyfriend,” she fumed. “That asshole has to be part octopus, as grabby as he freaking is.”

“You want to bounce?” I asked, kinda hoping the answer was yes.

“No, not yet,” she replied, calming down. “Let’s chill for a little bit- maybe he’ll find somebody else he wants to smash more than me.”

A waitress took our drink order, and we chilled for a little bit- until the Canadian guy finally found us, parking his ass next to Katrina on the couch.

“I been lookin’ all over for ya,” he said. “Hey- whatcha drinkin’? That looks good,” he said, signaling to the waitress and pointing at Katrina’s drink.

“Chaz, right?” Katrina said. “I’m sorry if you got the wrong impression, but I’m here with my girlfriend,” she said, taking my hand and lacing her fingers with mine.

“No, that’s cool,” he said. “I’m, like, real cool with that. Maybe the three of us could-”

“There will be no ‘three of us’ anything,” I said, reaching over and lifting Katrina and placing her on the side of me away from Chaz. “My girlfriend said she wasn’t interested. That means she isn’t interested.”

“Sheesh, O.K., O.K.!” Chaz said, holding up his hands in the ‘I surrender’ position. “I know when I’m not wanted!”

After he left, Katrina finished her drink in one big swig. “I freaking hate it when guys think just ‘cause you danced with ‘em one time they have some sort of right to you,” she said, her voice bitter.

“Well, he’s gone now,” I told her.

“I wanna dance some more, but, like, just with you this time so I don’t have to deal with any more creeps like him,” Katrina said, her eyes bright.

We got up and danced for not even half an hour before Katrina leaned in to me and said, “I think I’m ready to go now.”

She was really wobbly on her feet as I led her downstairs, making me think that the fifteen minute walk might be a bit too much for her.

As we waited for a cab, Chaz emerged from the club’s entrance.

“Hey, babe, you sure the three of us- I mean, I’m cool with your dyke girlfriend sitting it out. Hell, she can watch,” he said.

“Seriously, fuck off,” Katrina slurred, giving him a push on his chest. As he fell back, he reached out to grab her, with the net result that he fell on his ass, and if I hadn’t caught Katrina she probably would have face-planted into the cobblestones. As I helped her stand up, I reached down and tucked her boob back into her bra top, hopefully before anybody else got a free show.

“Seriously, what’s your problem?” Chaz demanded as he got back to his feet.

“You’re the problem here,” I told him. “She’s not interested, I’m not interested. No means no, and go the fuck away means go the fuck away.”

“Well, fuck you, too,” he replied, then went back into the club.

By this point Katrina was much closer to passed out than she was to awake, so when a taxi pulled up I had to lift her into the back seat. She was totally gone ten minutes later when we got to our hotel, so I carried her inside in the classic princess carry. The front desk clerk on duty told me he couldn’t give me her room number, so I carried her upstairs and tucked her into the bed in the unused other bedroom of the suite.

I was reviewing the financials of the Hollywood Porsche dealership I was probably going to buy when I heard Katrina stirring in the second bedroom the next morning. A bit later she came out into the living area, her hair wet from a shower, a towel wrapped around herself.

“God, I’m so sorry,” she said when she saw me. “I didn’t realize I had so much to drink. You must think-”

“I think that Chaz douchebag roofied you,” I interrupted. “I was thinking about it. You know when he sat down and ordered a drink? I think he did it then, when we were distracted, looking at the waitress.”

“Are you serious?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“And you know what that tells me? He had practice. If I see him again I’m going to throw him off a pier with his pockets full of rocks,” I told her. “He didn’t get a chance to rape you, but I’d bet he’s done it plenty to other women."

“Holy shit…” she breathed. Stunned, she sat down at the table, imagining what might have happened.

“He might have spiked my drink, too, but I didn’t finish mine after he sat down,” I said.

“Wow…” was all she could say. “You, like, literally saved my life.” Shaking it off, she looked at my laptop. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to figure out why a Porsche dealership I’m thinking of buying isn’t making money, and whether it’s something I can fix,” I said. “Pretty boring stuff, really.”

“Um, I know I shouldn’t ask, but, well, how old are you, really? I mean, I thought you were, like, my age, maybe a couple of years older…” Katrina said.

“You’re a junior, right? I graduated two years ago this June,” I told her. “So, maybe three years older than you?”

“And you’re buying car dealerships?” she asked. “I mean, you seem like you’ve got a lot of money, I get that- just look at this suite you’re staying in all by yourself. Seriously.”

“I do alright,” I admitted.

“So, um, I’m working on my Bachelor’s in global business, you know? But, really, none of my classes have had any sort of real-world stuff like you’re talking about with that car dealership. My focus has pretty much been on logistics and transportation, since, you know, that’s the family business, right?”

“Honestly, I don’t know as much about the economics and macro trends associated with car dealerships as I should,” I admitted. “Which is embarrassing, since it’s one of my family’s lines of business.”

I was happy to talk to Katrina about what I saw as Hollywood Porsche’s weaknesses, mostly because it seemed to do a good job of distracting her from thinking about the events of late last night.

Eventually Katrina asked what time it was, and when I told her it was almost time for my laps in the pool before lunch, she got a horrified look on her face.

“Oh my God,” she said. “Dad- He’s gonna see me coming back to my room and he’s gonna think it’s the walk of shame for sure.”

I have to admit that got a laugh from me. “Just go ahead and rock it, then. Wear your top inside out or something, and make sure you don’t look him in the eye when you go slinking back in.”

“I should totally do that, but then, when you see him, you act as if nothing happened at all. That would be hilarious,” Katrina said.

After we stopped laughing, she got serious. “Don’t tell my dad about that asshole last night. He worries too much about me already. If he heard that I got roofied he’d, like, wrap me up in bubble wrap for the rest of my life.”

“It’s up to you,” I said with a shrug. “But seriously, if I see that guy again, he’s gonna go missing.”

“Can- can I tell you something?” Katrina asked, looking uncertain.

“Sure,” I replied.

“Some of Dad’s, um, business associates, I guess you’d call ‘em, they say things like that sometimes. And you just know they aren’t joking. And, well, you just know it wouldn’t, like, be the first time, either.”

“Colombia has a certain reputation…” I said.

“I’m talking about in Miami, but… I guess what I’m getting at is you sound just like they do.”

“I guess it comes with the territory,” I said. “When you run a vast criminal organization…” I trailed off with an exaggerated shrug.

Katrina stared at me for a moment, her eyes wide. Recovering from her surprise at what I’d said, she laughed and shoved my shoulder, which caused her towel to come loose and drop to her waist. Mortified, she yanked the towel back up and covered her very lovely chest.

“That’s twice now,” I said, smirking at her.

“What?”

“Last night, when we were leaving the club and that asshole followed us out, you gave him a shove and popped right out of your top. Right there on the sidewalk,” I told her. “You were too far gone to realize, or even notice when I tucked your girls back in.”

“You didn’t!”

”I absolutely did,” I confirmed.

“This is gonna sound awful,” she said, covering her face. “But you’re, like, the first lesbian to ever get their hands on my tits.”

“Yay me,” I said, happy that she could see the humor of the situation.