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It was bright, sunny, Wednesday morning in Porto Cordoba, the weather was quite hot. As hot is the body of your tea cup, just after you’re done sipping the whole of it. That not too hot to handle weather. One had to wear really nice and simple clothes that “breathe” and at the same time, not too light, to protect oneself from the sun’s rays. Pedrito was squinting at his rear mirror trying to make out Rebecca’s shape, out of the many women that flocked the in and out of the complex. He was becoming restless, a little too restless that he began to drum with his fingertips on the dashboard, he could feel drops of sweat run from his neck all the way down…it sent awkward shivers down his spine.

He looked at his watch again, it was 11:17am. A weird feeling of fear and insecurity breezed through his mind. It was the wrong kind of breeze he needed at the moment. “She has never been a minute late!”, He muttered to himself, feeling his own nervousness mount up. Rebecca had never for once come late to their “trysts”.
“I hope nothing serious has happened to my Chicita!”. He looked out of the car. This time, with renewed vigor. He pulled his hat, his glasses, and placed his hands over his eyes, so that he could scan through the crowd of persons frolicking the complex. There were a lot of ladies in there carrying umbrellas. Women in this part of the world actually do carry umbrellas all year round; winter, spring and summer. Little wonder they call Porto Cordoban women, paraguas de las mujeres, or ‘Umbrella Women’.
A blue Mazda sedan stopped just across the road, about four poles from where Pedrito parked his Chevrolet. Rebecca graciously came down from the Mazda, an started walking towards the Hotel De Ocio. She wore a free flowing and loosely-fit gown made from Egyptian cotton. The dress was simple, plain, yellow and elegant. She dazzled in the sun. As she got to the hotel entrance, she looked around, locked eyes with Pedrito, who was already blown away by her walk towards the hotel. She gave him a coy wink, turned around slowly, passed through the doors and began to approach the receptionist.
Just the wink, that one effortless action in less that a moment, cancelled Pedrito’s fears and doubts. All the negative feelings in his guts flew out of his car window. Now desires began to grow. He quickly jumped out if his car, and started racing towards the hotel. He called himself to order immediately, readjusted his footsteps and continued walking toward the hotel. He had to maintain an unfamiliar posture because of the volatile nature of his relationships. It would not be nice if he made the news for frolicking with supermodels, because of his image in the streets. It would be more scandalous if it was with Rebecca. It would ruin his credibility in the streets and it would cost Rebecca her job.

Rebecca was a spy! Yeah, things just got interesting. She was an agent in the Porto Cordoba Intelligence Bureau (PCIB), She has been working on trying to bring down the Cuenca Cartel. Pedrito and Rebecca have been frequenting the Hotel De Ocio for a couple months now. They used burner phones to send untraceable INTEL to one another. Whenever the detail was too sensitive or bulky, the made appointments to meet in random hotel rooms around the Capital City. It has been extreme sports for them, dodging prying eyes and knowing eyes. Using smart disguise and trying not to repeat patterns, the intricacy of the situation demanded the discretion.
It would be a great scandal if they were both seen. Or if the public had knowledge of such relationship, it would be detrimental to the government and the Cartel. It would also be detrimental because it would expose one of the most evasive love stories in the nation. Not the clandestine relationship between the cartel and the state; because none existed, but the relationship between Rebecca and Pedrito. Rebecca was an PCIB agent and Pedrito, the hueso de hierro or ‘Iron Bone’ of the Cartel. They had been meeting because Pedrito had been exchanging ‘confidential’ information with the state.
She needed to bring down the Cartel so bad, Pedrito shared her passions, in every sense that it could mean, but things were really delicate. If their trysts came to light, the Cartel will be caught in bed with the state, this time, literally. It would be very bad for the brand image of both the Cartel and the Government, two organizations losing street credibility.
Pedrito approached the receptionist in glee and said “I need room 18”, in a rather excited tone, it appeared that way because he tried faking an accent. “Room 18 is taken, Señor” the receptionist replied, curtly.
¡Dios Mios! How is that even possible?!” he thundered. The receptionist did not understand. In her head, she probably said, “It is possible because someone paid for it”. She did not voice it out because such witticisms were not good for business. She sensed it immediately from his tone that he was anxious and had a date. She gave him a quick look from head to toe and guessed he was a married man having an affair.
“A ring, leather boots, Rolex, Vintage shirt wrongly matched with a checkered trouser”…. The receptionist thought to herself ‘Rich man, in an unhappy marriage”. She suggested another room number and he agreed, without any hesitation. In a few minutes, he was in a room, not the one he paid for, but the one adjacent to the one he had paid for. The one that Rebecca was in. He had not even locked her door when she jumped on him. They rushed themselves with a rustic kind of vigor. Yearning for their skins, their touch. This time, not the hands of the law, but their own hands. Pedrito was enthralled by an unusual pride. In between the gusto of serenading themselves with kisses, a thought flashed past his mind and he laughed.
‘¿Que pasa?’ ‘What is it?’ she asked curiously. She felt a bit offended that he would smile in the middle of this. She thought she had probably shown him that she missed him more than she missed her. She waved the thought off. They were past that stage. “So what is it really? Mi amor”.
“You know, it feels really exciting to be wanted…out there, wanted by the state, in here I’m wanted by you. Sometimes when I go out there, I get scared for you. You know the president is a very jealous woman, she would do anything in her power to take me from you.”
Rebecca gave out a hilarious chuckle. It was a morbid joke, dark, but certainly witty. She loved the sincerity, arrogance, concern, fear, humility, suave and pride that his joke encompassed. The mixture of the features she loved the most about him. He was both a Gangsta and man of class. She has always loved bad boys, and he was the worst of them, he was just the right amount of awesome and sophisticated…and brave.
It takes two fools or two brave people from two different worlds to love each other this much. A lot of trusting and thrusting brought them this far.
They were already in the state of nature. ‘Passionately’ devouring their bodies and satisfying their desires. The usual rule was; ‘business first’ but they had missed each other so much that they had to put themselves first. They could not take their hands and lips off each other. If they were caught in this action, Pedrito’s hand would have been apprehended in the figurative ‘cookie’ jar. The passions erupted and they proceeded to stampeding themselves with lust. If this scene was a movie, a classical hip-hop chacha fusion would have been playing faintly in the background as they explored the known depths of their dermal possessions.
Pedrito’s phone rang….was ringing…kept ringing!
He stretched his hands to pick it up and see who was calling, but his fingertips and staccato rhythm made him lose grip of the phone.
‘¡cuatro llamadas perdidas! Four Missed Calls.
He looked at his phone’s lock screen one more time and that was all he could make out from it. He was sweating profusely and was still in motion, hence his vision was blur. The only other thing he could see was face of the Blessed Virgin Mary, which was his display picture. The blue theme of the wallpaper made his mind wander towards the Himalayas. He began to imagine himself wander in the Island, basking all her beauty at once, from the skies up above, while the sun mildly massaged his back. In his head he was gliding off cliffs in the Caribbean, in reality he was in love’s island, Rebecca’s lagoon.
His phone began ringing for the fifth time. He stretched real far this time, grabbed his phone and thundered “¡Que Pasa! “
“Patrone, something is wrong we need you now. Where are you? Hope you’re safe? I’m sending soldiers down the street to find you. We just saw some vans of the PCIB speed towards the city centre….”
“How does that affect me? I’ll call you back, I’m in the middle of something”, Pedrito replied. He returned to look at Rebecca who said “now!”
He looked down and he was like “Oh, I’m sorry”, and tried to reposition his torpedo in her oceanic plate. She yelled “now!” again, this time, not in a passionate tone, not between moans, it made him a little pressured to quickly drop the anchor in the tide, before she zoned out of the mood.
In a split second, the window glass shatters!
Pedrito raises his head….everywhere goes blaaaank!


A week later, Rebecca sits down in her new office with a window view. She raises the glass of red wine, it gives her the creeps. A little feeling of guilt. She began to miss him, her lover, Pedrito. She picks up a newspaper, it was the Thursday paper of the previous week. The headline made her feel guilt, love, pride and nostalgia, all at once!
Rebecca drops the dailies, looks across her desk and reads the designation on the table, it read;
Immediately, her pride outweighed her guilt. Little bulbs of tears rolled down her eyes. She missed him. He was the only one that ever understood her. Although she noticed quite early that he was feeding her with misleading intel, and he was the cartel kingpin, not even an errand boy. Such an audacity! She was impressed by Pedrito’s genius but in the end, she was the heroine in this story. The proudest moment of her life was seeing Pedrito struggling to mount her and struggling for his life. The sniper took a precise shot at Pedrito on her command. The one command that brought her this far. In the end, she delivered Hueso de hierro’s head to the president, on a platter. Their love story had come to an end, and she was the author of his fate.





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