Without knocking, Orzibel entered Amili’s office, crossed to her desk and stood beside her. Amili was making calculations with a pad and pencil. Orzibel plucked the pencil from her fingers.
“Forget Kazankis’s numbers, Amili. Tonight we start making our own.”
Amili closed the pad and set it atop the ever-present laptop. She gave Orzibel a questioning eyebrow. “This deal with Chalk, Orlando? I am truly to receive twenty-five thousand dollars?”
“Ah, the money has your interest now?”
“I have never lost interest in money. Otherwise, how should I find myself in this place?”
“You’ve been here one year now, correct? A very prosperous year for a girl from the Honduran countryside? But we shall prosper tenfold in this next year, Amili Zelaya.” He winked. “In the business and in the bed.”
“Is Chalk coming here to the club, Orlando? Is there risk?”
Orzibel waved it away. “Risk is slight and to be shared. I am to pick up a Lincoln Town Car rented by Mr Chalk. Chaku will follow me to Marathon Key where Chaku will enter a certain bar. Mr Chalk will arrive by cab. When Chaku enters, Mr Chalk will exit, and check his merchandise. If satisfied, he will leave the blessed money and return to Key West in the Lincoln with a shiny new toy in the trunk.”
Amili closed her eyes. “Toy.”
Orzibel grinned. “Who knows, Amili Zelaya. Perhaps Leala Rosales will capture Chalk’s heart, just as you captured the heart of El Jefé.”
“Kazankis has no heart, Orlando. He has only desires. In his own way he is as sick as Chalk, just more sane.”
“Sometimes you make no sense, little whore.”
“I am to be your partner and you call me whore?”
“Amili … I make a joke. We can joke now, can we not? We have enjoyed one other to the fullest. And we will continue to do so, correct, my little … lady? Lovers and partners.”
Amili nodded toward the hall where Guzman sat. “You have no trust in your partner? I continue to be guarded.”
Orzibel moved behind Amili, his hands stroking her shoulders. “Only until little Leala has been delivered. You have not been yourself in matters of Leala Rosales. Fighting my wishes to discipline the mother, wanting to send Leala home when she is worth much money.” He lowered his head to whisper in her ear. “Did you recognize something in Leala, Amili … this girl delivered a year after you arrived? Do you see something I cannot?”
Amili sighed and shook her head. “Your mind is too busy, Orlando. You make me more than I am.”
“So you have no feelings for the girl? No similitud?”
“I saw only a danger, that’s all.”
Orzibel’s fingers slipped beneath Amili’s chin and turned her face to his. “Prove it then, Amili Zelaya. Prepare Leala for her journey tonight. Can you do that?”
Amili shrugged as if asked to paint a door. “Of course. She is an investment.”
Orzibel grinned. “Ah … here’s our true Amili Zelaya again. Maker of contracts, seller of flesh. Bookkeeper of souls.”
Taunts. All true. Amili spun away and stood. “Enough for now, Orlando. Do you have the clothing?”
“Let’s go and decorate Leala Rosales. She has a big date awaiting.”
The pair stopped at Orzibel’s office where several pink dresses lay on his couch. “I keep several sizes for Mr Chalk. They will get used.”
Amili picked the size she knew would fit Rosales and they went to the depths of the nightclub, through the sturdy gate and down the shadowed hall to a locked room. “Are you to follow my every step, Orlando? Or do you have more important tasks?”
“I will tell Chaku we are preparing to leave. Guzman!” He motioned the gangster to continue watching and strode away. Amili paused at Leala’s door, pushed it open. The girl was sitting on the bed, her eyes lost. Amili knew the look: the girl had given up hope.
“I warned you to behave, Leala Rosales,” Amili said. “This is not my fault.”
“How do you do this thing that you do?” Leala said quietly. “How do you look at yourself?”
“Shut up! Put on these clothes. Now.”
Amili threw the clothes in Leala’s face. Pink dress and shoes, white panties. With Guzman at her back, she set the red scarf carefully on the bed. “Put the clothes on. The scarf must be last. Keep it nice.”
Leala stepped into the clothes like a robot. Amili nodded at the ensemble. “Now give me your face.”
Leala closed her eyes and Amili applied lipstick and eye shadow and brushed rose into her cheeks. “Don’t touch it or Señor Orzibel will put it back on. You will not like his methods.”
“We must go,” Guzman said from the door. “I hear Señor Orzibel calling.”
Amili looked into Leala’s eyes. “Go to the bathroom and relieve yourself. I am sorry, it is all I can manage in the circumstances. But you have a sharp mind. Use it and let it take you away.”
Leala stared. “What are you saying?”
“Bathroom,” Amili pointed. “Now.”
Leala shuffled to the dirty toilet. Amili went to the door and stepped into the hall. Guzman started to push into the room but Amili stopped him with a hand on his chest.
“She is urinating,” Amili told Guzman. “So she will not piss herself on the journey. She will be out in dos minutos.”
Leala stepped to the toilet but was as empty in her body as in her heart. Something terrible was about to happen. She wanted to cry but her eyes had emptied as well. Everything was gone. She passed through the room for the door, but stopped. She had almost forgotten the headscarf. She plucked it from the bed and was surprised by its weight. Something was knotted into the fabric. She slipped loose the knot and a small black object fell to the bed.
A phone.
The yellow tab stuck to it said simply, 911 = Emergencia.
Amili returned to her office with Orzibel’s minions at her side. Guzman sat on the couch and ticked at the video game, the other gangster wandered the hall and sucked a soda pop. Music from below shivered the floor. Amili marked on a large pair of padded envelopes and snapped her fingers.
“The bank deposit is prepared. Can you be trusted?”
“Of course,” Guzman said. “I am selected by Mr Orzibel.”
Amili handed him an envelope. “The address is there, the bank downtown. It is closed until Monday but there is an outside deposit window.”
The man frowned in confusion. “I must watch you. Can Jorgé take the envelope?” He nodded toward the man in the hall.
Amili rolled her eyes. “Is he smart enough to read the bank address?”
“I will tell him where to find it.”
Guzman passed along the package and instructions. Outside, the twilight beaconed toward Tomorrow. “Now I must go to the bathroom,” Amili said. “Are you to watch me there as well?”
Guzman looked stricken: Orzibel was his boss, but Señorita Zelaya was also very powerful and rumored to be one of El Jefé’s lovers.
“You have no phone?” Guzman said. “I am sorry to ask such an impertinent question.”
“Search me.”
“I-I will have to touch you.”
“Then hurry, but do not let fingers linger.”
Face averted, Guzman patted Amili down. She went to the bathroom and closed the door. Her hands moved beneath the sink and found the packet kept for long days at the office. She returned with fingers rubbing her temples.
“I do not feel well, the migraine. I must be alone to take a nap.”
“I-I am sorry but I am not permitted to permit it.”
Amili frowned in thought, nodded. “Aha! There is a simple solution. I will go to the basement and take my rest there.”
“Basement?”
“So you can be certain no communications will take place.” She aimed an accusatory finger at Guzman. “Unless you people leave phones laying about down there.”
“Never! Señor Orzibel strictly forbids—”
“Then put me in a room and lock the door. I assure you Mr Orzibel will approve. You have found a good solution, Guzman.”
“Thank you, Señorita. Thank you.”
They descended into the stink of mold and the rustle of rats. Amili chose a small bare room centered by a yellowed mattress and stained pillow. Concrete bricks formed the horizon and pipes the sky: It was the room where Amili had been imprisoned one year ago.
Guzman looked uncertain. “Are you sure that you wish to rest in—”
“I will be fine, Guzman. Do not disturb me until Mr Orzibel returns. Tell him to come wake me with a kiss.”