Mr. Mendoza
*NSFW*
“Come by today. I haven’t seen you in a long time,” Rubén said.
Even though he didn’t technically work for the man anymore, his boss’s tone always elicited a quick response from Guero.
“Sí, same place?”
“Of course, my friend. We have much to speak of.”
As Guero hung up the phone, Leigh entered their suite. Outfitted in a black bikini, she wore her dark hair piled high atop her head. She flipped her sunglasses off, fixing Guero with a stare.
“I thought Cavanaugh didn’t like you fraternizing with Rubén?”
“We can’t let him dictate everything,” Guero said, eyeing Leigh’s figure with appreciation.
It didn’t matter how long they were together; he couldn’t look at her and not want to touch her. He wondered if she felt the same as she flopped down beside him on the couch.
“Do you want me at the debrief?”
“I’ll do it,” Guero said, casually intercepting her as she tried to get up.
“How can you tell him what happened if you weren’t there?”
Leaning forward, she sucked on his lower lip. He responded by taking a handful of her hair and pulling it tightly.
“Do that again,” she said, her eyes lighting up.
“If you remember, I handled this and much more only a few months ago,” Guero said, twisting her arm so she sat perched on the edge of his lap.
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“I got us shrimp tacos,” Rubén said, motioning to the waitress as Guero joined him.
“You don’t need to tell her, we get the same thing every time,” Guero said, fussing with the plastic chair as he studied his former boss.
Working for Cavanaugh had taken a toll. Bags the size of grapes hung below Rubén’s eyes, and his jowls sagged with strain. Whatever Cavanaugh did to get Rubén must have been formidable. Still, Guero wasn’t one to pry. This may have been why they got along so well.
“How is Cavanaugh?” Rubén asked sarcastically, drumming his hands on the table. “Fucking gringo and his hooker, coming down here, telling us what to do.”
Guero chuckled. Old age had softened Rubén to some extent, but it hadn’t cowed him.
“How’s that firebrand of yours?” Rubén continued. “I heard she did a neat little job yesterday.” He nodded at the waitress as their food arrived. Rubén took hold of the hot sauce. “I have to put this on everything—my taste buds are shit these days.”
“He should be happy, considering all we’re doing for him,” Guero said, tempering his words in the public setting.
Competition was rife in Cancún, and spies were everywhere. Still, their favorite taco stand was the epitome of a remote location. And since their reputations preceded them, they could rely on some degree of privacy.
“I wonder,” Rubén began, speaking in his usual measured tone, “when we start becoming a liability for Cavanaugh.”
“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” Guero said with a shrug.
“You’re fucking that woman too much. It’s turning your mind to mush.”
Given his latest encounter with Leigh, Guero couldn’t contradict him. In fact, she was the reason he was working for Cavanaugh in the first place. Guero said as much to Rubén, who laughed heartily.
“Yes, but she kept you alive some years back,” Rubén said, alluding to one of the most dramatic episodes of Leigh’s spring break.
Rubén fell silent for a time, studying the cheap tablecloth.
“What becomes of men like us? Are we all fucking security consultants?”
“Times have changed,” Guero said, a phrase he had repeatedly used in their conversations.
“And we must change as well, or we risk becoming irrelevant,” Rubén replied with a grunt.
He paused, taking a long sip of his beer before looking intently at Guero.
“I’ve been thinking of selling everything, moving to the States.”
“Is that Cavanaugh talking?” Guero asked, his pulse quickening.
His thoughts went immediately to his livelihood. Without Rubén, he’d have no backing. And there were plenty of examples of what happened to men without a Godfather—they didn’t last very long.
“Maybe that asshole has gotten so far into my head that I can’t think straight!” Rubén cried, giving Guero a wan smile. “And I’m not doing any fucking!”
Guero forced a laugh, taking his turn with hot sauce and downing his taco. He swallowed gratefully, the flavors filling his body with pleasure.
Licking his thumb to catch a wayward bit of sauce, he wondered if he could do it. Move to the States with Leigh—start over. Taking another bite, he sighed. But do they make tacos like this? Does shrimp have this much flavor in the States?
“If you want to, you know, start a family with her, you should move as well,” Rubén continued, as if sensing his thoughts. “Cavanaugh has offered it up to you—I’m sure.”
“The question in my mind,” Guero began, pausing to take a sip of his beer, “is the one you just brought up. Will he let it get to that point?”
“We could beat him to it,” Rubén said, with his old vigor.
“But then we’d have the government all over us. We’d have to pay back all the money—it would be too expensive.”
“Ever the pragmatist,” Rubén said with a smile. “I see your point, but remember, we’ve been through worse. Companies come to Cancun, and they build theme parks. Presidents get elected, and they promise reforms. What changes?”
“Nothing,” Guero replied, waving a fly away distractedly.
“This man, this Jack Cavanaugh, won’t be on his pedestal for long,” Rubén said. “And when he falls down, I want first dibs,” he growled.
Guero nodded, gesturing for the waitress.
“Thirsty today?” Rubén asked as Guero ordered more beers.
Guero waited a beat before responding.
“I’d be lying if I told you it doesn’t weigh on me,” Guero said, feeling a heaviness he tried mightily to push through.
He wanted to tell Rubén about the sleepless nights—how his heart would race like it was going to burst out of his chest. More than anything, he wanted to tell him about Cavanaugh’s promise to provide information about Rachel. If it weren’t for that, he would have killed him that day in his office. But he missed that opportunity. He made his bed—now it was time to lie in it.
Studying him for a moment, Rubén held his bottle of Sol in the air.
“To the future.”
“Sí,” Guero said before taking a long, satisfying sip.
He was meeting Cavanaugh after lunch—might as well get a buzz going.
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