“Yeah, but the Sinaloa cartel will point the finger at Los Zetas and Los Zetas will turn around and blame them. Ingenious, Damian. Well worth the wait.”
“One down, one to go,” said Damian, dusting off his pants.
Rafael knew he was thinking about Warren Sedgewick. “Geez, Damian. You should allow yourself a breather. Even movies have intermissions.”
“Really? And where would your ass be if I’d taken off for popcorn and candy?”
“True. That’s twice you’ve saved my life,” said Rafael. “So what now?”
“Now we lay low and wait for the dust to settle. Think of it as an intermission.”
“For how long?”
“As long as it takes to put together the next plan, Rafael. As long as it takes.”
“WE’VE COME A LONG WAY from Caboras,” said Rafael, clinking his beer with Damian’s.
Damian surveyed the tiki-torch lit patio overlooking Mission Bay, the exotic, tropical fish swimming in the ceiling-high aquarium and the pristine table setting before them.
“It’s taken a long time to get here,” he said.
“Eleven fucking years.” Rafael scanned the menu. “What are you having?”
“A burger,” replied Damian, without opening his menu. He fidgeted with his cuff links. “Was this really necessary?” he asked.
“You want to blend into fancy circles, you’ve got to look the part. How do you like the shoes? I had my guy custom make them.”
“I get that they’re standard issue for a hotshot financial advisor like you, but fuck it, Rafael, there’s nothing like a pair of shoes broken in by hard labor and sweat.”
“Screw hard labor and sweat. You deserve this. When are you going to start enjoying some of your hard-earned cash? If you don’t start relaxing, Damian, your face is going to set into a permanent scowl and you’ll scare the girls away. Permanently.”
Damian waved his hand dismissively. At twenty-seven, he was completely oblivious to the polarized reactions of the women around him. When Damian walked into a room, he went for the shadows and dark corners. He never fit in and he never attempted to. But the very attention he sought to avoid always found him, because it was like dragging in a caged animal. The women flocked around him, afraid to touch him, afraid to talk to him, but at the same time, completely fascinated.
“The money means nothing,” he said. “It’s a means to an end.”
“I know that, but take some credit for what you’ve achieved. After El Charro, we had nothing but the money you’d stashed away. And you managed to turn that around. From one boat to two, to five, to ten. From a small fishing company to a motherfucking shipping conglomerate. You put me through college while you worked your ass off. Everything I am, I owe to you. And now here you are. On the brink of toppling Warren Sedgewick over.”