Caged: Reclamation

Chapter 15

"I wanna trust him."

"Why? You don't trust nobody... why him? Why any MK motherfucker?"

"'Cause they were my family when I had nothing. They saved my life, more than a few times. I gave up shit inside, for them. I wanna think... that it wasn't for nothing. Stupid, but there it is."

"They're snakes, Manning. You trust a snake? A pit of them?"

"No, but I want to."

"Don't. Not for one fuckin' second."

Todd watched outside the window as Pedro spoke to a child and handed him un peso, a colorful bill that thrilled the boy at the fountain. Visiting hours were over and Pedro left the courtyard, heading down the road, silver hair disappearing into the jungle-like cover of green. RJ Gannon's voice echoed in his head, the warning not to trust any MK soldier, or Pedro.

They're snakes.

He thoughtlessly caressed the black Mamba snake tattoo on his neck, knowing its shape, knowing what it meant. Loyalty to MK, danger to enemies. And for him, behind bars… that meant a hell of a lot. MK saved me. He couldn't say that anymore, no, no way. And truth was, it had always been a desperate reach to justify belonging to and the continued captivity by MK.

He chewed on his lip, watching the last remaining guests leave the courtyard, each person tossing coins into the fountain. The fountain wasn't the gurgling kind but instead was a smooth glass-like pool with plants and a prayerful Santo Pancracio standing watch in the center. Fourteen year old martyr that matched the saint hanging around Todd's neck. Rico had given it to him as protection. Did it work? Had he been protected? He turned back to his airy room, the small bed, the dresser with clothes he didn't own. He wiggled his toes against the leather of his worn sandals. He lived a monk's life. He gazed at Abram happily dozing at his feet.

An ache in his heart got him to scratch his chest, fingers then grasping the saint. He wanted to trust Pedro so he could believe in the love he offered. He wanted his own martyrdom to have been for something.

What would any of this be for? Being born and then dying at fourteen?

He groaned wordlessly at the absurd thought about Pedro, rubbing at his hair now, his rough jaw. Nothing had changed! Pedro was still responsible for everything.

The fountain may not have gurgled, but the hate that lived at the center of him certainly did.

Jed stood at the door talking to Beatrice in hushed tones. His son was tall and looked strong and healthy, his face matured, showing a deep concern by pinching his lips tight and creasing his brow. He'd pulled his long hair into a ponytail in the back. Such a hipster. Todd resisted the urge to get up and hug him, squeeze his kid to him so he'd never leave. His strained muscles stopped him. Those goddamn steps had nearly killed him.

Raquel moved into the room and Todd adjusted his position in the chair, to face her, to stretch a little. He gazed hard at her the closer she got to him. She smiled in her smart-ass way and crossed her arms, studying him a second or two, then held out her hand.

"Give it to me."

Todd knocked his head back in pure MK form and glowered at her. "No," he said.

"Thirty minutes, Blanco, and already you are murdering. You can hardly walk. Like in La Habana, then, I have to take dangerous things away from you."

She made a give-me motion with her fingers. Like the child he was to Raquel, all his bravado fizzled at the accusatory look on her face. He shook his head with an expression meant to mock her and he rolled his eyes. He hunched in the wheelchair and placed the blade, handle first, in the palm of her hand.

"He … uh… provoked me," he rasped.

Jedediah turned at that, "Did he, Pops?"

"Just by breathing," he answered quietly, picking at a loose thread on his linen pants at the knee.

Raquel held him by the shoulder, saying something he couldn't quite bother to hear, and he rubbed his cheek against her arm like a cat, a pussy cat, because he had no goddamn control over anything. How the fuck was he gonna go home and straighten shit out in this state? Vexed, he shrugged and shook Raquel off, reverting to the pit bull part of him, actually growling. He coulda bit her for the kindness she offered.

She tsked and made a show of putting her blade back into her belt pouch. "I know how to use this, too, cabron," she said under her breath.

Todd chuffed and raised his eyes to her, looking somewhat apologetic. And she nodded knowingly, then sighed at his moodiness.

Jed was now on the bed, eyeing his touchy, volatile father with a curious gaze. Unreadable.

"I'm uh… sorry," Todd said. "Didn't mean to upset you."

"It's okay, Dad. You were kinda right."

"Was he?" Beatrice asked, honestly curious.

Jed sighed and half way nodded.

The women had heard the ruckus in the room from the chapel and Beatrice had gotten up, anxious to get involved, but Raquel had stopped her. "Your Angel is no angel. He is angry and their dispute needs airing. Leave them." They only came in once Pedro left.

Beatrice was now admiring the portrait of the Savior and she smiled beatifically at Him. She offered something of a plan. "Jedediah, would you like to stay here with your father? Help him heal? I'll send a sister for your belongings. I'm certain the reporter will not be a problem. I have no doubts Señor Moreno will make sure he leaves Baracoa."

"I had no intention of leaving. But maybe a sister in a habit collecting my stuff would be a huge giveaway as to where I'm at? I'll go—"

"No!" Todd said sharply, his voice then softening. "Please don't… go."

Beatrice smiled at the vulnerability Angel easily showed. "I have someone else in town who can do it. Not a sister."

Jed rattled off the hotel and room number, struck by Todd's plea. He wasn't sure he'd ever sounded that way before, ever. It was always Jed asking to stay and Todd telling him to go.

Beatrice headed out the door, adding, "Angel, no more assaults in my home."

"Jesus," he said to himself, under his breath, then he shouted, "…he's a… a... a pedophile-maker! You understand?! Do you GET THAT?!"

Now Jedediah chuckled and Todd realized his son was entertained; that was the expression he wore. Amusement.

"What's so funny, Chant? It's true."

Jed smiled, eyes gentle, "I know. I just… I can't fucking believe I'm sitting here with you. And you… are such an asshole…" He could only laugh softly and shake his head disbelievingly.

Raquel sat next to Jed and in her English said to him, "He is… with good luck. For you. His son. To be here."

Jed grinned at her, "My Pops knows how lucky he is. A lesser man than me would have dumped him ages ago."

Todd grunted in some kind of aggravation and both Jed and Raquel chuckled. Raquel got up at that and said, "The sisters will bring you both dinner soon. I leave you to each other."

Jed turned to her, "Raquel… why are you here? You were mad at him. Really angry, for hurting Rico that night. You don't seem angry any more."

Sighing raggedly, Todd gave her a rough translation.

She glanced down a moment, her features already weighed down at the mention of Rico. Her eyes watered and Todd glanced away at that, eyes out the window. She answered in Spanish and it was more to Todd than to Jed.

"I grew to care for Blanco before he knew Rico. Many nights your father came to my cafe, after those fights in the bars. I saw deep pain and he looked to me for help. Without words. And then slowly, I learned why he was so sad. He lost his wife, his family. He was alone here in Cuba, and he was not here at his choice. And then he paired… surprisingly… with Rico who I already loved like a son. I tolerated their relationship. I didn't think it was right because Blanco was much experienced in love and Rico was not. But Rico loved him. Blanco was the first man he has ever loved. And even though Blanco mistreated him at the end… he wasn't well when he did that. So I'm here. Because of love. I am here FOR Rico. Because of him. I am here because I understand…" She looked at Todd and got close to him. "I understand you."

Todd trembled at her words, at her plainness. He said nothing. Couldn't. All his earlier thoughts on Pedro, MK, existential bullshit… even his wish for Jed to not leave him… vanished. The massive hole in the center of him, the real center… opened up… and it was so very empty.

She had just gutted him.

Raquel left and Jed knew she was crying. Knew what she said had floored his father. He lost all the color in his face and was clearly speechless. What Jed could translate?

Rico. Love.

After some minutes passed, long silent minutes, Todd said softly, "I don't deserve that." Tears welled in his own eyes as he studied the songbird. She sang in the dying light of the late afternoon. More minutes passed.

"She said she grew to care for me before Rico, and… and that she's here for him, and because she… um…" It wasn't that he couldn't find the word but that he couldn't say it.

"She understands me," he finally choked out.

He looked at Jed, searched his face for readiness to hear the truth.

"She's deluded. I'll never be a good person, I'm nobody to understand. I… uh…" He searched for the word, the goddamn words that kept ducking away from him like a mosquito…

"I arranged for the bombing to happen, Jed. I arranged the meeting so those bastards would all be there when the thing blew. I watched a clock tick away… knowing what was going to happen, purposefully telling them things to get them arguing so they'd stay until the designated time. Tick tock, tick tock. Tick. Tock."

He gazed at Jed. His voice was hard now. All the words he needed were right where he put them.

"I killed Ivan in cold blood. I did. I strangled him with my own hands in a room in that house. I made him think I wanted to have sex with him and he lay down on a bed… ready for me. He was a little surprised. I raped Gloria, twice. I beat the shit out of Rico when he dared to leave, tied him up for a week…. and the night Téa died, I blamed him for it. I said terrible things to him to get him away from me so I could get to that house and… and…"

"Dad…"

"NO! I… uh… don't know… how to go home. I am every bit of the…I am the monster I hate. I am no better than Pedro or… or… Horenda or Caro… or anyone I've ever hated in my entire life. How can I… reclaim… anything? I should not be here, I should not be there. I should be dead, and in hell. How do I look my children in the eye and ask them to… love… me? HOW?! It makes me sick. Even seeing you now. Jesus fucking CHRIST. No, no, no."

Jedediah swallowed hard as Todd dipped his head and kept saying no, no, and of course the inevitable…

"Go away, Jed… go away. Go home."

Jed sat back on his hands. It was hard to offer much right off the bat. The guilt was solidly supported. He wasn't wrong. If all that was true? And Jed was sure it was. What he had was a real confrontation of the soul. As real a question as any man can face.

Is there any redemption for irretrievably bad?

Jed thought of Rose. How he'd do anything to protect her from someone like his dad. Hell yeah. It terrified him down to his toes that she would grow to love someone like him. Rose, his beautiful daughter, smart, cute as a button, bright eyes with a whole lot of love for him. And he thought of Leticia, Rose's mom who died in an MK shootout. A whore Jed had gotten to like the year before his dad got out of Statesville. He'd gotten her pregnant, stupidly, one drunken night. A year after Rose was born, Leticia was trying to get close to this new "leader" of MK; she was kind of thrilled by him. He has power… maybe I can be more than just a waitress. Maybe I'll get something for Rose. Jed blew her talk off as fantasy. But then… he made the horrifying connection. She was talking about his father. The final math?

Jedediah… that man I mentioned to you, you know… the one… he's a junky. Finally got with me yesterday. This whole time he was looking at me, wanting smack. Can you believe that? It's crazy! Pedro is so against drugs. You look funny… what's the matter?

What's his name? What's this guy look like?

His name is Blanco! Long hair, a scar on his face. He reminds me of you. In the eyes. I'm sure you know him.

Fuck ME.

Jedediah was up and pacing now. He had long forgiven Todd for the awfulness of that situation. His dad had no idea back then how close Jed was to Leticia. Or even that he knew her at all. Pops was just doing his shit, living la vida MK. It wasn't right, obviously, but Jed already knew how deep he was, how in debt he was to them. So no surprise his addictions were on fire. Also...nobody knew about Rose. Leticia wanted the protection of MK so they all went with Rolon being the bio-dad.

Also... Todd had closed his eyes since Statesville to the running around Jed had done for him, hadn't paid attention to Jed's own information-man status for RJ and the Posse. He couldn't see that, couldn't take another thing to be responsible for.

And Jed never blamed him for any of it. Jed chose to get involved in his dad's world. It had always been his choice.

He walked up to Todd and grabbed the arms of the wheelchair, startling him to get his attention. He moved the chair, forcing Todd to face him. Jed plopped himself on the bed, his hands still on the chair. The two men now inches apart.

"Look at me, Pops. Dad, look at me."

Todd reluctantly raised his eyes to his son, the paleness fading a little. "What is there to say?" He had a low-level rumble in his voice. Fury. That hate.

Jed tilted his head and gazed at his dad, seeing all that woundedness he usually hid. There was no covering now. It was a bright line next to the hate.

"You can't change the past," Jed said. "That is true. You were raised by a monster. Another true fact. You became one. Let's go with that. Yeah, you did. And as a monster, you did some pretty bad shit, Pops. Almost… unforgivable. Gloria? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"That's what monsters do."

"No argument. But in all that, you created loving human beings all over. People who got to know the good part of you… and you do have a good part… they thrived. Your kids, Téa, Rolon, Rico. The kids in prison. Even Pedro. He changed. And it was because of you. Had this happened five years ago, he wouldn't have saved your life. He'd have let you die or worse, made sure of it."

"Oh Jesus… you're as deluded as la Doctora. You mean, all that thriving... was in spite of me."

"No. Because of you. You always had a good reason for the things you did. It was always for good. I know this. I saw it. I was there for a whole lot of it."

"No, no, that's not… right. That's not true!" He tore his gaze away, fighting what he was hearing. He couldn't stand his son doing this, seeing things that weren't there.

"Look at me! Only me!"

Todd finally did, hearing his son's very own hate...

"I said people who YOU LET IN, those who you allowed to see the real you… the good part of you. Every time that happened, that person grew inside. Became more. And if they didn't… it was because they didn't want to change. Your dad, for one. I'm talkin' big picture here. You have to go with that. It might not redeem you in the way you think? But it says you got a purpose here, a reason to stay alive, to go home. A reason to re-imagine the future."

"Monsters don't get better. Only bigger."

"That's a lie you tell yourself to stay stuck so you don't gotta fight your impulses that Peter Manning built into you. Monsters don't get better, you're right... unless they want to. And I know you want to. You always have."

Todd could only hold his head and feel the furious hot tears that ran down his face. He hid behind his hand, his elbow on the arm of the wheelchair throne he claimed. He was so ashamed of the life he'd led, so sickened by it, every cut had come alive on his skin, fiery, burning. He saw it all, right along with the bad stuff that happened to him—.

Love is quiet.

Tim Graham's voice broke into the chaos all of a sudden. The doctor told him that once. Said hate was loud and drew all the attention but love was soft and… quiet. Hard to hear. The memories in the cave that played constantly did tend to be the loud stuff, the bad. The good things… they were smaller… quieter. His kids, Viki, Téa. They sprinkled the black of the cave like silent twinkling stars.

But his son right now was demanding to be heard. As loud as love could get. A sunburst in that black.

"I'm so sorry…," he said. "I don't think—"

"Dad. Stop. Sorry is a stupid word. Actions mean more. And the biggest action? Getting your ass home. You wanna prove you're a monster who can be better, who wants to be better? Come home."

Todd chuffed, a laugh, a derisive one. About to unload. Except before he could say a word, Jed hit him with one last path of cookie crumbs.

"Okay… fine."

Jed pushed the wheelchair back and stood up. No, no, it was an uncoiling, like a snake. Like his father. He towered over Todd now, hazel-colored eyes that had seen too much in his young life, eyes hard as diamonds. Yeah, a whole lotta home-grown hate came from his kid, much of it fed by years of dealing with a fucked-up father.

"I was gonna let this ride a couple of days," Jed growled, "I was waiting for you to send me home. You got to it a lot faster than I thought you would. So fine, Dad. Let's go with you being an unrepentant monster, a real motherfucker hopelessly bogged down by a whole lot of unforgivable shit. You are irredeemable. You're going to hell, for SURE."

Todd looked at his son, giving the smallest nod. Curious.

"Well then, fucking OWN it. Be it. Fucking SHOW it, DAD. One thing monsters don't do? Become monks! Téa needs that monster right now. That's a TRUTH. You HAVE to fix this MK mess or she's gonna end up dead for real. Your kids? They might just end up casualties. Me included. Who cares if you're weirded out that they love you? That's shit you can deal with later in a cozy fucking THERAPIST office! Your Delgado got your house on a 24-hour security watch. MK men. She poached ex-Salvadorans too, do y'all hear that? Pedro didn't mention THAT shit because he doesn't KNOW that shit! Fucking Salvadorans are roaming our goddamn backyard because they got a new goddamn queen. She's got bodyguards. She's a TARGET. Are you hearing me?! Do you get this?! Come HOME and fucking FIX IT! You want redemption?! You want purpose?! FIX the SHIT YOU FUCKING BROKE!"

Well… shit.


Téa Delgado drank her glass of red wine, a particularly good year, on the roof of her building. It was hot, summer scorching even though it was eight at night. The city was gorgeous from up here, all lit up, lights bouncing in all directions. She had a whole set up, a glass and steel table for four, fine matching steel chairs. Musica. A Persian rug. A couch. She bobbed her foot to hard-core mariachis coming out of the speakers, and closed her eyes, ignoring Victor at the door going into the building, Lanzo circling the perimeter. Tony and Mark stood guard at the building's front door downstairs.

She had a date tonight. Well, not a date date but a meeting with a marijuana grower, supposedly. Her people vetted him. Came out clean. Name was Diego Rivera, yes, like the artist. Mexican. It's why she put on the mariachis, music she remembered from her childhood. Her neighbors had been Mexican. Téa would visit and she and Zulnira would dance and giggle while the mama cooked dinner.

When she saw him emerge from the doorway, she laughed. It was the man from the club. My god, she thought. Sexy as hell, Dolce & Gabbana suit, wry grin on his face. He had flirted with her as she embraced Gloria on the dance floor, as she danced drunk and in a fuck-it state of mind. As she flitted away from new bodyguards and RJ and Rolon.

"Good evening, bonita, surprised to see me again?"

"Yes, you could say that."

He sat down and helped himself to the wine after some small talk. He gazed at her as he spoke, deep, intense dark eyes. His face was handsome, sharp lines, perfect stubble, a jawline that could only be described as royal.

Téa was… fascinated. What… gumption he had. Her bodyguard, Victor, hung slightly closer now. Lanzo moved in as well.

"I don't suppose you can lose the men," Diego purred after more wine, more small talk.

"No… they don't ever leave me alone."

He smiled with those perfect teeth. And Téa chuckled lightly, a voice sounding fair and musical, like breakable china. "Let's get to business," she said. "You want to provide product? We already have growers. Why should I switch?"

"We have better product. I have a full laboratory testing new strains every day. We have the highest THC on the market. If you go with me, your sales will go up, your customers will never leave you. Right now, your competition has you beat."

"Who? That's intel I haven't heard."

She reached for a decorative wooden box, the lid painted red with birds flying away against a stormy sky. She opened it and pulled out a cigarette. They were Todd's actually. She found them in a jacket pocket. Seven Camel cigarettes in a pack. She chose this box off a shelf in a vintage store on Sixteenth Street the other day. She figured Brandy might have liked it. A pretty thing.

Diego lit her cigarette with his own lighter, chivalrous. "Will you join me on the sofa?"

"Sure."

They moved across the carpet littered with rich reds and yellows and clues to the velvet sofa, soft and inviting. They sat close and he soon put an arm around her and she let him. Though she did notice that he hadn't asked to do that, hadn't gotten her permission. Her consent only came once it was done.

They talked details, heads close, mouths inches away. They kept pouring the wine, she lit a second cigarette, and she knew the alcohol was going to her head, that her body felt things SHE did not feel, did not want.

I own you. Your body is mine to have. To enjoy. And to give it away to whoever I want.

You're talking about Rico. You didn't give me to him… I gave myself to him.

She could hear Blanco laugh in her ear but it wasn't him, it was… Diego. Sexy Diego who was a grower. She chuckled at her own joke, kind of wanting to see if it was true. Was he a … grower? Only... another Diego intruded on her wine-infused thoughts. A Diego that broke Todd's heart in prison by being so very broken, too broken to live, so broken Todd gave him heroin at the end, enough to kill him.

The first time Diego said anything to me was on the bleachers. We were watching a game and he said, 'am I alive?' I said yes, and he said, 'why?' I said the truth. 'I don't fuckin' know.'

Téa straightened up slightly, pulling out of the man's hold on her, distracted, Todd's own brokenness inching its way into her heart.

No, no, no. Go away. You left me. Don't come crying to me now. If I want to fuck him, I'll fuck him.

She could see Blanco now, Rico at his side, kissing him, both naked, Rico's divine perfect cock on her husband's bare thigh. Blanco grinned at her, flicking away a cigarette, and focusing on his lover now, pushing him down so he could enter his willing mouth with his own magnificent erection.

Téa shook her head, willing away images she didn't ask for, and smiled at Diego who smiled back.

"You are… beautiful," he said. "I've never met anyone like you. An intellect, powerful, ambitious. I love it. You are someone I want to… work with."

He eyed her body, eyed the black tight slacks and the silky sleeveless blouse she wore. He reached to her and touched the edge of the blouse, the front, the barest cover of her breasts. She didn't wear a bra. He was the first to notice.

"Is there somewhere private we can go?"

"No," she said. "This is as private as it gets."

"I'd like to make love to you. I'd like you to sit on my lap so I can play with you. You don't mind the guards watching?"

Téa laughed and put out the cigarette on a small glass dish on the coffee table. She returned to him, eyes on him. Said, "Presumptuous, aren't you? What makes you think I want to fuck you?"

He was taken aback and then laughed. She got him good. Of course she did. Getting her in bed was never going to be easy. "Shall I send papers then? An agreement."

"If they give us exclusive distribution rights. I don't like competitors."

"You don't have enough money, structure, dispensaries, sellers."

"Try me. Send me paper. I'll let you know if we can meet the demand. Never underestimate a woman."

Diego stood and held out his hand to help her up. She'd taken off her heels and she was so much smaller than he remembered from the club. She was delicate.

Breakable.

Eladio Merced, the head of Los Muertos, was more intrigued and inflamed than ever. Téa Delgado was every bit the Queen he imagined. There was nothing he wanted more than to take her, to own her. To think of it, took his breath away.

After Diego left, after a rushed conference with Lanzo who went skitting off like a bat out of hell, Téa walked down the stairs to her office, heels in her hands, Victor carrying two wine glasses and a fresh bottle. She walked into the office suite and Gloria was typing away at the outside desk, wearing new glasses that made her look like a proper secretary. Téa collapsed on the couch in her office.

"Bottle and glasses on the table, Victor, and send Gloria in please."

Gloria soon sat next to Téa and opened the wine bottle. Victor lingered in the outer area, the door to the inner office only part way closed. Gloria poured the wine into the two glasses. They both drank, draining the glasses quickly. Long day, strange meeting up on the roof, too many clients, the lawsuit against Pedro Moreno is going gangbusters, there's a message from another dispensary that want to join the coop…

Téa poured again and the women drank again, putting the glasses on the coffee table, only half-drained this time. They settled back into the couch, well doused, well tipsy. Close. Téa looked at Gloria for a long minute and then moved in. "May I kiss you, Gloria?"

She nodded and Téa did exactly that. Kissed her full on the lips, a slow kiss, a tender one, heavy with meaning.

Gloria smiled, surprised, fingertips on Téa's cheek. "Why?" she asked.

"You're gorgeous, you're my friend. You loved him as best you could." She then repeated what Rico said once. "I want to feel what he felt. I want to touch what he touched."

A small gasp escaped from Gloria's lips and she shut her eyes for a moment, the words hitting her deeply. It was more in empathy, more how strongly she felt Téa's love for Blanco, how lost she was without him. It was the same as she recalled of Blanco. How lost he was, how much he loved Téa. She nodded and kissed her back, firm biting kisses, pushing Téa back, all the way back until Gloria was on top and kissing her neck, down Téa's chest, hand firmly on her back, mouth searching for and finding the taut nipple. Téa breathed in at the sensation she'd forgotten, letting Gloria suckle and taste and pull until Téa was crying with desire…

… with memory.

Téa then took on an imagined role, Todd's role, and grabbed Gloria by her arms to push her back, to climb on top of her.

"Let me touch you, let me inside of you," Téa said, echoing remembered words. "Let me fuck you."

Gloria moaned softly beneath Téa, feeling an aggression she couldn't have guessed. Téa reached down and unbuttoned the buttons on Gloria's slacks, kissing her forcefully, tasting her tongue, her lips, feeling her breasts under her blouse against her own. She reached inside the slacks, reached inside the panties, finding her wet core and hearing Gloria gasp loudly, unmistakable sexual noise. Easy easy, Téa slipped two fingers inside Gloria, imagining, imagining…a thumb grazing the clit… so much wetness, who knew, such silky wet, god, the heat, allowing her such depth, as far in as she could go.

"Good GOD," Gloria moaned, kissing Téa hard, giving as much as she was taking. The two women writhed against each other, moving like the ocean, like the waves, rhythmically rising and falling, Téa watching Gloria react to every thrust of her fingers, moving until Gloria finally called out, the orgasm all-consuming and full of want. Téa held back her tears at that, not from jealousy, but from raw grief, thinking he had heard that sound, he had felt that womanly heat, he had felt her pulses on his slathered cock, he had held her body slack with ecstasy in his arms, he had lain on top of her. And she had no doubt that after her joy, he chased his own. Hard and fast and selfishly.

She could feel Todd in Gloria, as real as if he stood right next to her.

Gloria held Téa, her hands on her cheeks, kissing her tenderly. She urged her back again and stripped her carefully of her slacks, of her blouse, of her wetted lace underwear. Gloria delicately spread Téa's legs and got between her smooth thighs and licked the waiting sex, getting Téa to gasp and breathe heavily. Gloria didn't stop, keeping up the intentioned tastes and strokes and sucks, knowing the responsive pearl, knowing Téa was close.

"Can I penetrate you, get inside you?" Gloria panted.

"Yes, yes…"

And she did with her fingers, mouth again on her core, Téa rolling her hips faster and faster, hands in Gloria's long hair, breasts heaving... until she moaned, "Oh my god…," the long-awaited orgasm tearing through her body, waves of pleasure taking over everything, all her body alive and aware.

As she came down, as the orgasm faded, she saw Todd's ghost across the room, leaning against her desk, fingertips of one hand on his lips, eyes on hers, Rico down on his knees, busy, head bobbing. Todd then jerked hard, hissing in pleasure, his head tossed back, lips parted, clearly coming into his lover's mouth. He glanced down, fast breaths, hands back on the desk… muscles tense, tight with tension and… pure lust. "Do it again, I'm still hard, do it…" But Rico stood up instead and kissed Todd passionately on the mouth, just Todd, not Blanco, promising, "We have plenty of time, mí león, an eternity," and then they both turned to Téa and all she could see was love there.

For her.

Come to bed.

Gloria fell warmly on Téa's body, the two embracing, the two understanding what the tryst meant.

"Did you enjoy that, at least?" Gloria asked.

"Of course I did, you're incredible, Gloria."

She studied the woman's brown eyes, sensuous as tropical water beneath a Cuban moon. After some moments, Téa asked, "Did he enjoy it with you? Was it… pleasurable for him?" She asked because sex was so very complex for Todd. He didn't always enjoy it, so often finding it laden with meaning and an unsaid agenda. Lovers were often enemies or users or victims.

Gloria rested on Téa's shoulder and she shrugged. "I'd like to think so, it was usually intense, hot, it was, but like I said, he wouldn't look at me… he wouldn't smile, and even the sounds he made… seemed… restrained. Oh Téa… don't cry. Don't cry."

Gloria kissed Téa's tears for her man, knowing she cried for his forever-hurts, even the ones she caused and kissed her mouth and held her tightly, whispering between kisses, "It's alright, mamita, it's alright."

Some time later, Victor peeked into the office, finding the women cuddled, nude on the couch, looking like two dark-beauty sirens on a sandy shore calling to sailors on long lonely journeys. He smiled and apologized and began to back out.

Téa said, "Wait… Victor… did Lanzo find out where… um… Diego went?"

"We got him tailed. We got an address."

Gloria lifted her head, "What are you talking about?"

"There is no such person as Diego Rivera, the grower."

"What do you mean?"

"It was Eladio Merced."

"Holy HELL, Téa!"

"It's okay… Lanzo followed him home."

Victor nodded, "That he did."

"You're playing with fire, you know," Gloria said.

"I have to do something," Téa snapped. "Eladio thinks he has something on us, playing me, pretending to be Diego, such an insult. He needs a good hard slap, don't you think?"

"What are you going to do? And how can YOU play RJ and Rolon this way? They still have no idea Eladio was in the club! The leader of Los Muertos!"

"I'm playing it by ear. I'm glad you recognized him. I wouldn't have known otherwise about tonight. He really would have played me, that bastard."

"I'd know him anywhere. I knew him before he was anyone. He came to me later, trying to bring along his organization, trying to get me to help. He was always ridiculous, Téa. I'm happy to see him burn."

"He never hurt you, did he?"

"No, that is one man who had bigger goals than getting with me. I wasn't… high up enough to bother with."

Victor grunted, "We'll continue to tail him. We'll start getting a layout of all that Los Muertos controls, every hangout, every club, every territorial space. Once we have that… we'll figure out next steps."

Gloria shook her head and gave Téa a final kiss on her lips, "Mí Reina Puertorriquena, tan valiente eres."

Téa said softly, "We'll see." And once Victor retreated, giving them privacy to dress, she hugged Gloria and whispered, "Thank you for sharing Todd with me."

"I wish I could bring him back for you."

Téa closed her eyes at that and huffed, needing to get back to her normal, casting her fishing line into the sea of hate she used to stay strong. "It's best he stays in hell," she said, "because if I saw that sonofabitch… I think I'd kill him all over again. I'll never forgive him, Gloria. Ever. God help that bastard if I ever see him in the afterlife."

Gloria hugged Téa back, feeling her renewed hurt, and breathed, "I know, mí Teita, I know."

Later in bed, at home, Téa dialed the hotel room in Baracoa, Cuba, Jed's room.

The phone rang and rang, with no answer.

To be continued...