NOTE: Just wanted to answer a question for Nicky. Ennui's last name does indeed mean something in Spanish. If I recall, 'el principio' means 'starter.' By the way, your reviews are hilarious!
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TROUBLE IN PARADISE
Farron stood in the kitchen staring at the cupboard for an indeterminate amount of time. He wasn't quite sure why he had gone in there, but he thought it might be due to a need to find a good, stiff drink. As much as his twin, he enjoyed an occasional bourbon here and there, but right now, he preferred scotch. At trying times such as this, scotch seemed to hit the spot better. He opened the cabinet where he stashed his booze and selected his favorite brand. Before he gave up the life of a trafficker, he would spend hundreds of dollars on a single bottle of scotch. Most of his money was gone, seized by the federales after they took down Ortiz. However, he had a little stashed here and there, and every so often, he splurged on the good stuff. He had worked on his faults, but he was far from perfect. Besides, there was no way he could live a halfway decent life with his current job. He banged the bottle down on the counter and unscrewed the cap. He nearly grabbed a glass while he was at, but changed his mind. He drank directly from the bottle, pouring the caramel colored liquid down his throat. Farron grimaced at the harsh invasion of the scotch as it slid down, immediately warming him. Why was he in such a state? Never before had Enni done this to him, even after they betrayed Frank. When he cut ties with her back in Colombia, he never gave her a second thought, and neither had Frank. Perhaps even Frank knew the pairing was destined to fail. Otherwise, he would have searched Enni out, gone after, and probably married her. Frank would have also come after him, the same as he had done when he had stupidly attacked his wife. Sighing heavily, he turned up the bottle and took another deep pull from it.
Ennui hadn't made one move since Farron got up and went toward his tiny kitchen. She watched solemnly as he drank his scotch as if it were water. Inwardly, she smiled a little. Despite leaving the life, he really hadn't changed that much. He still loved his aged scotch. She shifted her position on the couch so that her arm was resting on the back of it. She kept her tawny eyes focused on him and wondered what his next move would be. She reasoned that he must want to help her because he had yet to throw her out on her ass. On top of that, her interest really wasn't in Farron at all. She had never loved him, never wanted anything from him that didn't involve sex. Frank was the one she had loved, the one she would always love. Even in the hideous depths of cocaine withdrawal, her only thought had been of Frank. It mattered little to her that he was married and a father. Marriages and relationships could easily be broken up. Her departure from Frank had proven that. All it would take was Farron bringing her to his attention. Once he saw her, he would want her again. It was as simple as that.
"I see you still enjoy your scotch, Tibio," she said with a soft smile.
He took another long pull from the bottle. Jesus. He was starting to get a little buzz going. "Don't call me that anymore, please. What we had, which was sleazy at best, is over."
Of course, for the moment, she wasn't going to accept that, not yet anyway. She came off the couch and approached him slowly. By that time, the scotch had begun working on his head a little. He was quite foggy, and wasn't sure what she was doing until he felt her hand fall on his shoulder. His reflexes were slow. He wanted to shrug her off him, but he couldn't. By the time his brain caught up with his arm, the signal became haywire and fucked up. She was standing against him now, running her hand up and down the length of his arm. In the back of his mind, he saw Kara, reached for that image, but it wasn't there. All he had was this pitiful excuse for a woman, a woman who had sold her body for many years to stuff white powder up her nose. Yet, his brain kept playing tricks on him. The soft touch of her hand, and the pressure of her body was a bit mind numbing, more numbing than the scotch. Without thinking, he took another drink from the bottle.
"I missed you, Tibio," she whispered, her voice falling into his ear. "I missed everything about you. Every man I had, I compared him to you."
Did he believe that? Did he honestly believe that? Of course he did. The scotch had convinced him that this cocaine whore of Alca Huete's was Kara. She was the one who got away. Oh yes. It was true. The more he drank, the truer it was. He felt a pair of soft and incredibly warm hands moving his hair to the side. A moment later, a set of full lips began to dance along the side of his throat. Another moment later, firm teeth and a wet tongue teased his earlobe. His heart kept pushing him to deny her. This wasn't right. She wasn't who he wanted. Yet, the scotch had played with his mind so much that he didn't know what his name was anymore. Who am I right now? Am I Farron or Mateo? She pulled back just a bit to run her hand through the back of hair, cupping the back of his head. He turned toward her, perhaps to tell her to leave. Instead, he gave in to the urge, gave in to the scotch haze. Even though the bedroom was only a few feet away, there seemed to be no time to walk there. Did he want the couch? No. Too soft. Ah. She made the decision for him as she lifted her body easily onto the kitchen counter.
* * *
Kara had gotten the address for Farron's apartment last night, but she hadn't wanted to visit him then, hadn't wanted to drop in so late. She had no idea he would have welcomed her with open arms, perhaps she would have thwarted Ennui's plan. However, her hesitancy kept her away. She had no idea if Farron would even be home this early in the morning, but she had decided to take her chances. She felt horrible for what she had done to him. No one had ever made her feel the way Farron did. She didn't know the man, barely knew his name, but he had touched her somehow [and not just physically]. She wanted to explain why she had run away as if she were a scared child. Taking a deep breath, she entered the apartment building and took the stairs up to his apartment. She could have taken the elevator, but she needed a little time to get her nerve up. Would he understand why she ran? Would he care? She wasn't naïve [not exactly]. She knew what kind of man Farron was, and that was partially her motivation for leaving him, but there was something else, something she deemed silly and embarrassing. She sighed. She would have to have the courage to spit it out to him and explain. They had simply come together too soon, and she wanted to take things a bit slowly, wanted to get to know him.
Before she knew it, she was standing in front of his door. She glanced down at the piece of paper Loralei had given her to ensure that she had gone to the right door. She took a deep breath and reached out. The first time she knocked, it was a soft peck, hardly loud enough to rouse him if he were in bed. She shivered a little as she thought of him in bed. I can't do this, nope, I can't. Steeling herself, she reached out again, this time knocking hard enough to hurt her knuckle a little. She shook her head incredulously as she noticed the doorbell for the first time. Kara felt an idiotic smile touching her lips as she reached out to hit the button. From inside, she heard the pleasant ching chong ringing through the apartment. He would be sure to hear this. Moments later, she heard movement from inside. She took in another deep breath but held it.
The door came open inch by inch as if the Gods had decided to torture her. After an eternity passed, the door came open fully, and the sight of Farron greeted her. He was wrapped in a light colored silk robe and completely stunned to see her. She saw the expression in his eyes and couldn't decide if he were happy or angered. In fact, he was a little bit of both, but he was also horrified. Enni was still in the apartment, in his bed, with not a stitch of clothing on her body. How many times had he fucked her last night? How many times had he hated himself afterwards? Dear God. Why had Kara come to him now? Why couldn't she have come before Enni? He hoped he could divert her attention, get rid of Enni, and then have her return later. If she saw the other woman, she would leave and likely never come back. He couldn't blame her. The longer he stood gazing at her, the more he hated himself.
"Can I see you," Kara asked softly, hopefully. "I want to apologize and explain."
Before Farron could utter one single word, his bedroom door came open and Enni sauntered out into the living room. Completely immodest, she strolled out as naked as the day she was born. She had heard the doorbell as well, and she must have heard the soft voice of a female. Farron's suspicions were right. She had heard, she had come out on purpose. She couldn't allow another woman to ruin her plans. The moment Kara laid her eyes on Enni, she gasped aloud. Farron had proven himself to be the exact type of man she had thought. He had taken her to bed, had taken her virginity for God's sake, but here he was with another woman two days later who looked like a crack whore. In that moment when Farron's eyes met Kara's, he suddenly understood how Frank felt when he saw him and Enni together. Kara said nothing to him, didn't utter a single syllable. Instead, she turned away and left.
Farron could not stand still. He went after Kara and took hold of her arm. "Please wait," he said. "You don't understand."
Kara jerked her arm out of his hand. "I don't? I wasn't born yesterday, you bastard. I know what I saw. I know what kind of man you are, and I don't want to be with a man like that, like you."
"Kara, she-"
"She means nothing to you," she spat bitterly, finishing the sentence that was about to tumble out of his mouth. "That terrifies me, because I almost became entrapped, I almost became the person who means nothing to you."
Kara turned on her heel and ran down the stairs. He was tempted to go after her, but his feet couldn't move. Everything she said, every word was the truth. He didn't deserve her, didn't deserve a woman like that. What he deserved was awaiting him in his apartment. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes tightly. He wanted to strangle Enni. However, he couldn't totally lay blame on her, either. It takes two to tango, he thought as he turned toward his apartment. Enni was no longer in the living room; she had ducked back into the bedroom. Before she totally disappeared, Farron could have sworn he heard her laughing in Kara's wake.
* * *
Donovan had wanted to go home straight from the airport as he had promised Loralei, but he was stuck riding back with the rest of the team. He didn't intend to dawdle around the office, because he was concerned about his wife. She didn't make requests like she had unless something was going on. Oddly enough, he felt as if Alex had some inkling of what the issue was. When the group piled into the waiting SUV, she asked if he would go straight home from the Nest. When he said he would, she smiled a tad knowingly, but wouldn't explain when he asked her. He didn't mind that Loralei had found a friend in Alex, but he did mind the scheming and the secrecy. However, everyone needed a confidante, a person with whom one could share secrets. Yet, he wondered what was big enough for Loralei to ask him to return home immediately that could be shared with Alex? Perhaps if he weren't so very exhausted, mentally and physically, he would have known in an instant.
The team had barely gotten into the Nest before Donovan grabbed his car keys and headed for the door. Before he got totally out of earshot, Monica's voice called him back. He had received a letter forwarded from the central office. Rolling his eyes and sighing heavily [distractions], he grabbed the letter and had nearly tossed it into his inbox, but something stopped him. The name on the return address was one he hadn't seen or spoken in a few years. She had even used the shortened name he had given her when they first met. Enni Principio. His first instinct was to rip the envelope up and toss the pieces in the incinerator down in the basement. Enni was part of his past, completely put away, completely forgotten. She was nothing more to him than any other woman he had been with before Loralei. Morbid curiosity had always been Donovan's downfall, and today it ruled him completely. He had no desire to speak to her, but he was curious to see why she had contacted him after all this time. He took the envelope and started toward his office.
"Boss," Alex's voice called, "aren't you forgetting something?"
Donovan turned to glance at Alex. Ah, the nosiness of two girlfriends. "No, I haven't."
"Maybe you should go home, Boss," Alex pressed. "Whatever is in that letter can wait until tomorrow."
What was this? Alex and Loralei were simply too damn close. Alex protected Loralei as if she were her younger sister. "Thanks, Mom," he said sarcastically, "but I'll be out of here in fifteen. If she calls, send it directly to my office."
Donovan took the stairs two at a time. He entered the office and closed the door behind him. Before tearing the envelope open, he stared at it, through it until he thought he might pass out from the eyestrain. He sat behind his desk and held the envelope in his hands, twirling it. His choice should have been simple enough. How hard would it have been to rid himself of yet another burden from his past? It was so easy to rip an envelope. After all, it was only paper, it wasn't steel. It was relatively easy to obliterate, but he couldn't do it. With any other mail, he would have taken his letter opener to save the envelope, but today, he didn't care. He slipped his thumb underneath the corner of the envelope and ripped it open. There was one single sheet of paper inside with Enni's neat script. He shook his head as he saw the salutation: Dearest Vigoureux. How stupid, how utterly fucking stupid. She had some nerve about her, yes she did. He gazed down at the words, not completely interested in what she had to say at all, but he found himself reading the damn thing in spite of himself.
Dearest Vigoureux, she had written, How many years has it been since you heard that? Since you heard my voice whispering it to you? Our relationship went so wrong so fast, and I never had the chance to apologize for what your brother and I did to you. I have thought about you every day. In fact, I still have the ring you gave me. I honestly do not deserve a second chance to be with you, but if you could ever find it in your heart to forgive me, that would be enough to last a lifetime. I am back in Chicago and I will leave my number at the end of this letter. Please call me. I want to hear your voice; I want to beg you for another chance. With love, Enni.
A bitter chuckle escaped the depths of his throat. He thought she had nerve writing him, but she had a steely disposition to actually ask him for another chance. Was she crazy? Was she clueless? He had no desire to see her, no desire to set eyes on her ever again. However, if he ever did see her by some obscene twist of fate, he would not hesitate to tell her that the only 'good' thing she had done for him was to show her true colors. If she hadn't done that, he might not have found Loralei, and he couldn't imagine life without her. Loralei was his true love; she completely loved him with her heart and soul. What he had with Enni was nothing more than an infatuation brought on by her comforting him at his lowest point. What he had with Loralei was unbreakable, solid. What he had with his wife could not even be described by mere words.
"Stupid, stupid bitch," Donovan growled.
He had set about plans of destroying the letter, but before he could carry it out, he heard Cody calling him down as yet another priority case filtered from central. Goddamn, he thought. He should have left when he had the chance. He came downstairs and waited patiently for the information to download. He couldn't believe the rotten luck. For weeks, they would have complete dry spells only to be followed by several cases in a few days. Monica began skimming the information as it filtered to her system.
"Wow, Boss, this one is a doozy. I hope Alex likes hot pants and spiked heels," Cody said. He passed a sheaf of paper over to Donovan. "Your specs, el capitan."
"A Colombian prostitution ring," Donovan spat incredulously.
Jake's ears perked up at the mention of 'Colombian.' "Oh Jesus," he moaned, "not more damn Colombians. If I never see another Colombian as long as I live, I'll be a happy guy."
"Wait wait wait," Monica said. "What I'm seeing is an offshoot of a ring that has started here in our humble city. It seems as if they're kidnapping young girls, hooking them on drugs, and then pushing them into the streets, probably using them for their own games among the familia."
"Who is behind it? I'm not finding it in this documentation," Donovan asked as he thumbed through his stack of paper.
"Oh, what a naughty boy," Cody said. "Alca Huete. He's a nice drug trafficking fellow."
Behind them, Jake groaned again. "Probably Farron's buddies," he mumbled incoherently. Of course, Alex heard him.
"Cody-"
Before Donovan could say the words, he nodded. "I know, I know. Dig up everything I can find on Alca Huete. I think I'm actually starting to figure you out."
He nodded his head absently and smiled a little. "I think you still have a lot to learn," he shot back. "I'll be right back."
Donovan shot upstairs again. He grabbed the phone and dialed his home number. He would apologize profusely to his wife, but there was no way he could get home as quickly as he wanted. She answered on the third ring, sounding sleepy and disoriented. "LD?" She yawned over the phone and he held it away from his ear for a second. "Are you okay?"
"Mmm hmm," she said. "I was sleeping. I suppose you're back in town?"
"Yes, but I can't come home right now. I'm sorry, I hate breaking a promise I made to you, but I'm trapped."
She sighed over the phone, but it wasn't an angered sound. "That's okay, I understand."
He closed his eyes for a brief moment. She did. She did, and it seemed to kill him a little. "No, baby, it's not okay. Regardless of what happens with this new case, I am coming home this afternoon, even if I have to leave everything behind."
"I have an idea," she said suddenly. "Meet me at that little Chinese place where we had our first date. Do you remember that place?"
He smiled a little. "How would I ever forget? Name a time and I'm there."
"Six?"
"Six it is."
"If you're not there, I'll find you and drag you there," she said.
He laughed. "I know you will, but believe me, that won't be necessary."
"Love you, baby, 'bye," she spat suddenly before hanging up.
He hung up the phone and stared down at it for a few moments. What the hell? Of course, if he had been at home, he would have seen Loralei bolting away to the bathroom.
Donovan picked up the envelope and its contents. He completely destroyed them both, ripping them to tiny shreds and then ripping them again. He tossed it into the wastebasket with the other trash. Trash. That's what it is, that's what she is.