Broken Promises

"You should get going. Donna is waiting downstairs."

* *

"And just like that, she asked me. Totally out of the blue."

Roy was in bed and unable to contain his surprise, even when speaking to his picture frame.

"One moment she's got me by the collar and the next, she's asking me out. You couldn't get away with a twist like this in an online erotic story. She even mentioned something about a big surprise later. I have literally no idea what she could mean by that. Honestly, it scares me."

An unseasonal storm raged on outside. Dark clouds scudded from the horizon outside his window and sleets of rain lashed against the walls. He saw trails of raindrops streaking down his window pane.

"A date. An actual date. I don't think I've been on one since the Bush administration."

A flash of lightning momentarily paused his soliloquy. He waited for the crack of thunder to pass. Sofia had a thing for thunderstorms. Sudden flashes of thunder would scare her, and more often than not, Roy found himself in her vise-like grip, attempting to comfort her.

Brave enough to beat cancer, but scared of a trivial little thing like thunder. Sofia had her unique little quirks. They made her even more endearing, if anything.

"I should go, right? Given how much she has helped out. Joe is finally enthusiastic about going to school again. Donna is a regular starter now. St Martins are in the regional play-offs for the first time ever and she is the leading goal scorer."

The rain picked up and battered the window. Droplets of water clung onto the glass and glinted in the streetlight.

"Your sister is an enigma for sure. She is all the things you warned me about... but she is so much more as well. I know the two of you were never on speaking terms after she returned to the States, but if only you could meet her now."

Would art, classical music and a lavish lifestyle sway Sofia? Unlikely.

"I'm going through with it. If for nothing else than to thank her for what she has done for the kids."

The rationalization seemed more for himself than for the woman smiling back from his mantelpiece. The room was illuminated by a flash of lightning. For a couple of seconds, Sofia blazed in white from her frame.

Roy slid out of bed and walked to the bureau. He turned the picture frame around so Sofia would not have to be scared of the lightning any longer.

* *

Tatiana was deep in thought in her penthouse office. The gentleman in the five thousand dollar Brioni suit, flashing a sixty thousand dollar Patek Phillipe watch and reeking of three thousand dollar Clive Christian cologne had handed her a document. He looked like the cover of Forbes Magazine, douchebag edition.

"Well?" he asked. His cultured accent still retained the faintest traces of his Latin-American roots.

"Forty percent."

Her associate's eyes went wide. He quickly dabbed the sweat off his brow with his handkerchief.

"No way. They'll never agree."

"Mr Suarez," she began evenly. "You're not in El Salvador any more where people are lining up to kiss your family's ring. If you want to do business here, you do as I say. My city, my rules."

"You think you're the only game in town, Tatiana. I think you're sadly mistaken."

She took a couple of cigarettes from the open pack on her desk. She lit one and offered one to her acquaintance.

"Can I call you Paco?"

The other man nodded and lit up his cig.

"You're not like the rest of your family. The Suarez cartel has fought its way to the top of the pyramid, but you didn't want to see it up close. You came here instead and got your MBA from Wharton and now you own a brokerage firm in Midtown."

"You can only run so far from your roots, Tatiana. Hence I'm here, telling you that twenty percent is a more than fair deal."

"Paco, with the amount your father makes every year, you could have your own penthouse, Ferraris and a different model as arm candy each day of the week. The rest of your family sure aren't discreet. You are. Do you know why? Because you're smarter than them."

"And the smart move is to give you forty percent?"

"The smart move," she said gently. "... would be to make a friend of me. Unlike the rest of your family, you can see the bigger picture. In exchange for my control at the docks and airfields, I want forty percent of your profits and you will give it to me. Your asshole brother would have probably said something misogynistic in Spanish by now and walked off. Of course, he was stupid enough to overdose on his own product in Ibiza last month. But I know you'll stay and listen to what I have to say."

"Because I'm Wharton educated?"

"No, because you see the long game. You came here just for this city. What if I can give you access to Boston, Miami and Los Angeles as well? I'll even throw in San Francisco and Baltimore."

Now he had her attention.

"You've got the fancy degree. You do the math. Eighty percent of the profits of one city or sixty percent of the profits of six? With my blessing, no one from customs or the DEA will ever think of checking your shipments and you know it."

"You make a compelling point."

"That's just the start, Paco. One phone call to my friends and I can open up Moscow, London, Rotterdam, Barcelona, Milan and Le Havre. You came into this office to negotiate one city and here I am offering you the whole country as well as all of Europe. All I ask in return is double the share of the profits. It's a fucking steal and you know it. It's not just the docks and airfields. It's safehouses to store and pack the product, bribing middlemen and corrupt government officials, handling the competition, paying off the local law enforcement, maybe even giving them a token bust here and there to show off. You have the product, let my organization handle the distribution."

Paco smoothed his tie as he ran the numbers through his head.

"Of course, if you were to give me fifty percent, I could introduce you to friends of my friends."

"Friends of your friends?"

Tatiana smiled broadly.

"Every port from Tangier to Cape Town. From Mumbai to Tokyo. From Shanghai to Sydney. I can move your product on a scale your family has not even dreamt of. This is going to be bigger than Medellin and Cali put together."

"For fifty percent of the profits?"

"For fifty percent of the profits," she reiterated. "... I will make your product the drug of choice at parties all over the world."

"I'm not sure I'm authorized to make that agreement. After all, I'm just the front man, the businessman and not the decision maker."

"Work with gangsters, but make deals with businessmen."

"You make a lot of sense, but getting my father to agree will be a problem."

"That's your problem," she shrugged. "It is the right call and you know it. Now you have to convince the rest of your family."

He stubbed out the orange end of his cig on an ashtray.

"One more thing," she said. "A sub-clause to our deal, if you will. The Bloods, the Crips, MS-13. Every gang who take orders from your family this side of the Mexican border are now mine as well. When I need them to do something, they will. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," he said, getting up and extending his hand. She shook his hand.

"Paco Suarez. Patron saint of a whole generation of party-goers and junkies."

"Now that we have that out of the way," Paco said. "How about we celebrate our newly formed partnership over a drink? I have the most beautiful bottle of Don Lunas Grand Reserve in my apartment if you want to drop by."

"No thanks. I have plans of my own this evening."

Paco was about to leave when Tatiana spoke up again.

"Just so you know, I'm holding you personally accountable for our partnership with your family business. If I even get a hint you are shortchanging me out of my profits, I will come find you. I hear it's a long way down from your apartment on the tenth floor of 137, East 46th Street. Honour our deal to the letter and who knows? I might even stop by for that drink some day."

Paco merely nodded and left. Tatiana checked the time on her watch and picked up the phone.

"Hey, Roy. I'm leaving in a bit. I'll pick you up at eight. Be ready."

* *

"Admit it, you liked the lobster."

Tatiana walked by Roy's side. They had just finished their dinner.

"I'm surprised you got a place at Eleven Madison Park on two days notice. That place doesn't take reservation less than four months in advance."

"Oh, Roy," she said sweetly, patting him on the head. "You should know better than to ask those questions by now. Enjoy the magic instead of wondering where the magician hides the rabbit."

Tatiana looked positively regal in the night. She wore a svelte blue designer dress which matched with her eyes remarkably well. Her sapphire earrings completed the azure trifecta. Her brown hair was smoothed and came down to her shoulder in tresses. Shiny mascara glittered off her powdered cheeks.

"My car will pick us up shortly and I will take you to your big surprise," she whispered conspiratorially.

"I don't know whether to be excited or terrified," he admitted weakly.

"Both will do."

She held his hand and led him to the intersection. A river of people and smartphones moved around them, parting like a stream around a rock.

"You needed this, Roy," she said. "You deserve it for all you've been through."

She rested her hands on his shoulders and gently leaned forwards. Her lips tilted to meet his. Almost instinctively, he pulled back, but her lips would not be denied. They followed until they were a hair's breadth away from his. Close enough that they could feel the warmth of each other's breath on their skin.

"Don't think," she whispered. "Just surrender."

The first time their lips touched was an almost alien sensation. It had been so long since someone else had touched his lips. Amidst the milling crowd, he took her advice. He had only ever kissed one other person this way and the lips were so alike. If anything, Tatiana's were even more sumptuous. The recently consumed lobster was a poor second.

Breaking the moment, her phone rang. She drew back and looked at him apologetically while she took it out.

"You're here? Wait, I think I saw someone following me earlier. Do a sweep around the block first before picking me up."

She put her phone away and turned back to her date.

"Where were we before I was so rudely interrupted?" she asked, mashing her lips against his once more.

* *

They stumbled into the private elevator at Tatiana's building and she drew him in for a deep kiss. Her breath was a combination of nicotine and alcohol. She grabbed the back of his head and drew him into it.

"Is this your surprise?" Roy forced out when they parted for air. "It's a good one."

"Not even close," she beamed before engulfing him in another deep kiss. The elevator politely dinged to inform them the doors were about to part and her men on the other side might get an eyeful.

"Come with me," she said, practically dragging him out of the parted doors.

"What's going on?"

She didn't answer, only leading him up a flight of stairs to a room on the right side of the corridor. He followed expectantly, only to come to a screeching halt a few feet inside the door.

The room was fairly mundane, white walls and a solitary window opening to the night sky. Four of her men stood inside the room, guarding a man sitting on a chair. His hands were presumably tied behind his back. His lip had been busted and there was a neat cut above his left eye.

"Tatiana... what-"

Roy could barely come up with words. The night had taken a turn for the bizarre. He was seeing the man in front of him for the first time in his life. He looked to be in his late thirties with a moustache and goatee. Sweat and blood dripped off the corners of his face.

"Who is this man?"

"Don't you recognize him, Roy?" she said. "His name is John Wesley Duncan. He works in middle management at a bank in Manhattan."

Roy scoured his memory for any clues, but could not find it. He did not have the first clue who this man or why he looked like he was in need of medical attention.

"Sit down, Roy," said Tatiana. One of her men had procured a chair for him. The same man held out a gun in front of his eyes.

"Take it," she said. He looked at the gun as if it was a live grenade, not daring to let his hands anywhere near it.

"You will use it to shoot this man tonight."

Roy looked at her with stunned disbelief. The words to express his current state did not come to mind. His body went numb and no coherent thought formed amid the mayhem raging within his mind. Even then, he shook his head firmly.

"Oh you will, Roy Saviano."

She turned her attention back to the man tied in front of them.

"Mr Duncan. You should really not have thought yourself lucky enough to win an all expense paid meal at Le Gratins. It was all so I could have you inside this building tonight."

"Please, tell me what you want. I'll do anything if you will let me go."

"What I want is something you can never give me," hissed Tatiana. She turned back to Roy to see a look of bewilderment and fear written on his face.

"Now the two of you must be wondering why I arranged for this meeting. After all, you don't seem to know each other."

Roy had no idea what to do or say. The gun still remained in front of him, as did the man.

"Three years ago, Mr Duncan was expecting the birth of his second baby. The only problem was his wife was intolerable in her last trimester. The mood swings, the hormones, the constant yelling and nagging. It got to such a point that he began lying to her about his working hours. He would claim to be in meetings till late when he was actually with his mistress in White Plains. Isn't that right, John?"

The man's eyes widened. He seemed totally unaware how she knew this.

"In fact, he was in her apartment, drinking when he got the phone call. His wife's water had broken a week earlier than the doctors had predicted. Desperate to get home, he got into his car while he was still drunk and drove home like a rocket."

Tatiana paused to light a fresh cigarette.

"Roy, do you know what car he drove that night? Why don't you tell him, John?"

"A Ford Explorer," he panted out. "A red Ford Explorer. Please let me go now."

"A red Ford Explorer. The same car that rammed into your rental that night when you were returning from Sofia's friend's wedding."

Roy's head snapped up. His breathing reduced to slow, laboured pants while his heart beat with enough fury to break right through his ribcage. He turned to Tatiana who now took the gun and held it out to him.

"Roy, meet John Wesley Duncan, the man who killed your wife three years ago. The CCTV at the intersection was down for repair so the police never caught him. You won't believe the things I had to do make this moment happen."

She thrust the gun into his hand.

"I can't," he mustered weakly. His hand dropped, as if the gun was much heavier than he anticipated. She held his chin and turned his face to hers.

"Do you remember what I said? You never know what you're capable of until you're holding a gun."

Roy held the gun unsteadily while Tatiana leaned over to whisper in her ear.

"Don't worry about the gun being traced back to you or how to dispose of the body. All you need to do is pull that trigger and you can be free."

"Please, buddy. Don't. I'm sorry for that night," the man beseeched. "I have a wife and two kids. Their pictures are in my wallet. They need me."

"His kids needed their mother too," Tatiana shot back angrily. "You didn't even call 9-1-1. All you did was speed off."

"I wanted to," John said, tears streaming down his face. "I swear I wanted to, but I was afraid. I had been drinking a lot that night."

"This man took away your wife, took away the mother of your children," she told Roy. "Pull the trigger. For every time you went to bed alone since then. For every time Donna cried. For every night Joe couldn't sleep in the aftermath. That man there is solely responsible."

Roy looked at him and pointed the barrel of his gun towards the shaking man.

"That's it, Roy. Do it for everything he has put you through."

His hand shook. Tatiana held the butt of the gun to steady his aim. She placed his finger on the trigger.

"Do it, Roy. Do it now."

John had already closed his eyes and was sobbing fearfully.

"No."

It was Tatiana's turn to be surprised. Roy placed the gun on the ground and got up.

"It won't bring Sofia back. I'm turning him in to the police. You may have made me a money launderer and a witness to murder, but I'll be damned if I let you make into a murderer."

"What?" yelled Tatiana and stood in front of him. "How can you let him live after what he did to you and your kids?"

"He's got a family too and it won't bring her back."

"Are you fucking kidding me, Roy? You're letting this worthless scumbag live."

"He can go to jail, but I'm not going to kill him. That's not who I am. Sofia would never have wanted me to become a murderer. She would have never wanted me to..."

Tatiana stared at him for a few long moments.

"The day she died, do you know what she told me? I was by her bedside at the hospital and she could tell she didn't have long. She asked me to hold her hand and swear on all I held dear that I would never let you into our lives. That I would never let you anywhere near our kids. You are a toxic influence that poisons everything and everyone you touch. How I wish I had listened to her."

He looked at her with a look of proud defiance. He felt a surge of bravado despite knowing he was in a room with four of her men who looked like they could mop the floor with him on her command.

"That's what your sister thought of you Tatiana and I see why. You're a psychopath and a monster. You have no conscience and no empathy. I thought I knew better, but I was wrong. How could I have been so naïve?"

She looked shell-shocked in her blue dress.

"I'll see myself out and don't you ever come near me or my family again."

"Ostanovit' cheloveka"

The burly man closest to the door grabbed Roy by the arm. He tried to wriggle free, but to no avail. Tatiana walked over to him and looked him in the eye.

"You think you're so noble. You think you can mix with the likes of me and still remain squeaky clean."

This was the first time he had seen a pronounced expression on her face. Her tone remained placid, but he could tell the effort she was spending in keeping the fury out of her voice.

"You should be careful with your words. Words are like loaded pistols. You, Sofia and all the rest of you. You think you have the right to judge me. I will show you the cost of judgement."

"What will you do? Kill me?"

It was almost as if he did not care any longer. The veil had been ripped from his eyes. His rose-tinted glasses and vague fantasies of what could be had vaporised when she handed him the gun. He had been a fool for not seeing it before, like when she decorated the wall with Enzo's brains.

"Nothing so pedestrian, believe me."

She indicated to her man to sit Roy down on the chair.

"I want you to know that what is about to happen is your fault. You and only you are to blame. Apologize to Mr Duncan here. Do it."

A second of silence went by.

"Do it now," she yelled.

"For what?"

"You think you saved his life, but all you really did was condemn him to an infinitely more painful death. You had the gun in your hand and the chance to make his passing painless. You did not take the chance. So now I get to take care of him, and I intend to enjoy it."

Roy stared at her.

"Apologize to him now, for this is the last chance you'll get."

Even as she said this, one of her men handed her a roll of equipment. She unrolled it on the floor revealing several bladed weapons of various shapes and sizes. She took out a medium sized thin blade with a serrated edge.