Southern Narco

"I'm Willadeene—I got your room nice and set up for you upstairs; new linen and towels." She led the way into the house. Her accent was southern but Ebony could hear a hint of something else.

The house was spacious but still gave off a sense of welcome. It was washed in tans, browns and oranges. The left of the foyer was the living area full of bookcases, plenty of seating and floor to ceiling windows to let in natural light. The right side let into the massive kitchen. Oak wood cabinets, dark marble countertops and stainless steel. The floral wallpaper choices gave a perfect reminder the she was in Texas.

"This is my brother Ewell sittin' there." Ebony saw him at the kitchen table with a newspaper and coffee in front of him. His hard stare met her head on. He gave a nod and then returned to his paper. "He's a grump, don't mind him—let me show you to your room."

Willadeene used a key to unlock the room facing the front of the house. She had the room with the balcony she'd seen earlier. The space was roomy. It had a bed, desk, chair, armoire and mirror. Everything was centered around a pale peach and white theme. There was plenty of area for her to work on ideas for the art exhibit.

"This is perfect." Ebony said with a smile in her voice. She ventured in a little beyond Willadeene to look around more.

"The bathroom for this room is right outside the door across the hall. We have two visitors upstairs but you are the only one on this floor for now. They usually don't eat any meals here." Willadeene announced. Ebony turned to her.

"Thank you so much." Ebony said honestly. She'd shown her so much welcome so far and it made all the difference in making her more comfortable with her decision to come in the first place.

Panic had set in on the flight. She kept thinking about the last bit of savings she had drained between paying for the bed and breakfast for three months and financing her mother's rehabilitation. She found a sublet for her apartment in Brooklyn, quit her jobs, packed up and left her mother on the other end of the country. And she hadn't even told her she was leaving.

Regret had sat in the base of her belly the whole trip. She'd left everything behind chasing a glimmer of hope. But Willadeene's humility had solidified her choice.

She stared into the woman's hazel eyes and they smiled at one another. Willadeene tucked a piece of her shoulder length wavy brown hair behind her ear as if bashful under the gaze of appreciation for doing so little. "Ain't no need to thank me. You're gonna' be here for quite some time so I'm eager to get to know you. I want you to be comfortable." Ebony nodded her understanding. "Dinner will be ready at soon. Go ahead, get settled in and you can come down when you're ready."

Ebony had unpacked all her suitcases. She folded her painting tarp and put her art supplies in the corner. She put her empty suitcases under the bed and walked over to her cellphone.

"Made it." She texted her friends. She sat the phone back on the nightstand by the bed and went to grab her bedroom key. It was attached to a stretching plastic bracelet so she put on her wrist and walked over to the bathroom across the hall to get ready for dinner.

"I told you about dealing with those new gangs." Willadeene scolded quietly. She stirred a pot of gravy while she spoke. "They don't know what they're doing and you go put your business in their laps."

Silas picked up his glass of ice water. "The territory is new but they've been around for a while." He walked over to the island counter and sat down. "Our old method is too much of a red flag now. And up there it just isn't practical." He explained quietly.

He usually had street soldiers from Mexico or Colombia. They had families at home who created a personal liability. A mess-up here would mean a consequence for their families to pay overseas. It set their integrity to levels he didn't have to question. But ICE was getting tougher to ignore and the pool was shrinking. If Diego could get the street gangs in order for him, they'd be perfect substitutes. So far, they were proving a chore to control.

"He's right." Ewell waddled into the kitchen with his cane. He took his time. "He taught el traquetos a lesson. They'll learn and be better for it." Silas caught his gaze and immediately turned his attention back to his aunt.

"Well, you just better be careful with—"

"Good evening," Ebony announced.

The low, earthy and butter-like voice caught his attention. Silas turned on his seat and stared at the stranger. She offered up a timid wave and fleeting closed-lip smile from the base of the staircase.

"Silas, this is our guest Ebony. Ebony, this is my nephew Silas." Ebony approached and Silas hadn't noticed his head followed her every step of the way. She was tall; at least 5'8. Maybe taller.

She extended her hand for his.

He looked into her pools of chocolate brown. They were large and low set so they resembled something similar to a cat. They were perched below extended, wiry lashes.

"Nice to meet you." Ebony had the most hypnotizing voice. She spoke from her depths but it still allowed every bit of femininity to silkily slip through each word.

"Likewise." Was all he could manage.

"Do you need help, Willadeene?" She asked. The cloud of kinks and coils resting on her shoulders followed a beat behind her when she whirled to stand beside his aunt. Her backside was right in front of him and he had to stare into his glass of water to keep himself polite.

"No thank you, sweetheart. All you gotta do is eat." Ebony let out a tiny laugh. She sat at the table with Ewell. She turned to gaze out of the bay window beside the dining room table and watch the sun set over the back of the property's horizon. Silas admired her gloss oaked back in the tube style top she wore. "Sy, you can leave now if you want." His eyes flashed from Ebony to his aunt. He'd been caught staring.

She had a plate of country fried steaks in her hand and watched him expectantly. Silas had told his aunt he needed to get back to the city to hold a meeting with his men. It was an honest excuse to miss dinner but it was used too prematurely.

He couldn't leave now.

Ewell's head was level with his newspaper but his eyes were telling. The orbs were warning him to leave the woman alone. He might've done so on his own free will. But now he'd stay just because he could.

"I can spare a minute."

"Where are you from, Ebony?" Ebony put her bubble gum pink fingers over her mouth while she chewed in preparation to reply to Silas' question.

When her mouth was clear, she said "New York—Brooklyn." Silas nodded silently.

"You're far from home." Ewell stated and somewhat asked. Silas looked at her curiously too. They waited with suspicion in their eyes as if she were to rush to explain her visit with these complete strangers to clear up any of their confusions. They were mistaken.

"I guess I am." She ended it there. A gap of awkward silence fell over the table. Ebony looked each man in the eye before she turned back to her plate. Willadeene subdued her laughter. The men had no idea what to do with their ill placed intimidation now that Ebony had dismissed it without thought.

"What did you do while out there?" Willadeene asked.

"I'm an artist and I sing." She'd also mopped more than a few floors and taught some bratty kids how to play a couple songs on the piano. Those odd jobs didn't seem worth mentioning.

"How excitin' is that?" Willadeene turned to the men with amusement on her face. "What kind of art do you make?"

"I do hyper-realism but some abstract and watercolor, too. I make sculptures and pottery—"

"I'd like to see it one day." Silas interrupted. His brown eyes were serious and fixated on her. Ebony opened her mouth to reply but realized she didn't know what to say. She tried once more.

"Y—yeah, I can show you one day—everyone." She looked to Ewell and Willadeene to lessen the intimate moment she was having with Silas at the table. "I have a couple pictures on my phone."

"Why are you here?" Ewell decided he'd just go forward with the question despite Ebony's clear avoidance of the topic. His question was inquisitive but something about it was accusatory too. Had she insulted him?

"Listo—Ok, That's enough!" Willadeene's irritation with the men had shown through. Her bubbly demeanor changed like the speed of light. Ebony knew there was another side to Willadeene and she hoped she never fell under that wrath.

"No, it's fine." Ebony smiled. She reached over and briefly laid her hand over Willadeene's to reassure her. The gesture seemed to work. "My art is going into an exhibit a few months from now. It'll be the biggest moment of my life." She swallowed and tried to pull through her moment of oversharing. Everything felt odd. "I think the space will help me think. I've had some 'creator's block' lately." Ebony smiled at her own use of the phrase. She had never been able to acknowledge it as that but it was the truth. She was unmotivated and lacking in creativity.

"That's interesting," His pink lips curled upward on one side. But he went back to his plate. A small silence fell over them again and this time, Ebony embraced it.

"What do you have planned for tomorrow?" Willadeene asked. Ebony shrugged.

The point of her stay was not to have anything planned. She just needed to get to an art supply store to start purchasing canvases and materials for her exhibit.

"Nothing in particular." Ebony said.

"I wanna show you around tomorrow; give you a tour of the house and take you into town—maybe meet my girls." Willadeene's eyes were lit with excitement. It was more than obvious that she got lonely in this huge house with her brother. The passing visitors of the bed and breakfast brought her excitement. Ebony's lengthy stay was probably even more exciting for her.

"I'd love that, thank you." Ebony and Willadeene smiled at one another—just as they'd been doing since she arrived. Their relationship, while new and brief, was already turning to be something Ebony would miss when she went home. She'd have to stay in contact with her.

"Perfecto! We will leave at 10 after breakfast." Ebony nodded and turned back to her plate.

"Where is your family from? Your accents are different." Ebony brought her drink to her lips and took a swallow.

"Colombia and Mexico." Silas replied. "My father was Colombian and my mother was from Mexico."

"And Ewell is your father?"

"Uncle." Silas corrected. Ebony looked between the two and the resemblance was uncanny. They had the same strong, angled jaw. The same wavy, ink black hair despite Silas' being neck length and Ewell's peppered in grey. And their eyes were exact copies; mysterious, intimidating and almost black-brown.

"Well, I'm done." Silas pushed back from the table after eating every morsel of country fried steak, gravy, mashed potatoes and broccoli on his plate. Everything was left at the table but he strolled away to leave.

"Put that plate in the sink, Hijueputa! - asshole!" Silas laughed as he came back to the table to grab his plate and cup. He put them in the sink and placed a gentle kiss on his aunt's crown.

"Thank you, Tia." Silas looked to Ebony with readable interest in his eyes. "Nice meeting you." He smiled.

Ebony watched him leave the kitchen. His boots thudded with every firm, assured step. Silas was balanced with mass and strength. She had a difficult time keeping her eyes off of his fingers at the table. He had the most attractive hands she'd ever seen; calloused from labor, long and thick from his height, perfectly manicured with veins along his forearm leading up to a broad, protective chest. Her interest had been piqued.

Ebony frowned to herself while she wandered up to her bedroom. She didn't need that kind of distraction. She was here for an experience of self-preservation. She wanted to find a piece of herself she'd either lost or never had the chance to find to begin with. A man had no place in her journey.

Ebony hoped she didn't see much of him during her stay.

She unlocked her door and stepped inside. It was late evening now so the room was cast in blackness. She turned on the light switch and sat on the side of the bed. Exhaustion was beginning to wrap around her. Suddenly the travels of the day were resting on her shoulders. She reached over to the nightstand and opened the drawer. She pulled out the envelope.

Ebony ran her fingers over the indents the pen had made. Everything had been erased by the wear and tear of time. The envelope had seen many tears and lots of frustrations. The paper turned yellow and brown around the edges. The only reason Ebony knew it was from her father was because she'd seen her mother weeping over it unexplainably when she was a little girl. A few years ago, Ebony found the envelope tucked away. If her mother went so far as to keep it for so long, it had to be from him. There was no name, no stamp, no address—there wasn't even a letter inside. The only thing that she could make out was the last few letters of the city and the state.

"—redo, Texas"

Three

Lynx Nightclub

Dallas, Texas

1:02am

"They think its rival activity." Armando announced. Silas paced around the room of the reserved club section. Techno music with a strong bass blared but was held out by the soundproofing of the walls. They were raised above the crowds that danced, drank and smoked. The strobe lights flashed across the mass of people below.

Silas took a swig of his brown drink and nodded.

Diego framed the murder scene as a rival gang retaliation once they left. There were no cameras, prints or evidence that would point the police in any other direction. Under the small chance that Diego had missed the mark, he had a few officials in the state and on the force to rectify his mistake. Silas had his contacts prepared. He was glad he didn't need to use them.

"Let Diego know that he's done with them. As soon as I leave the territory, Flores will sweep it up." He grit his teeth at the thought of handing money over. "Let him have it." But those men were more headache than their worth.

"Capo," Gael started. He sat up in his seat at the news of releasing the Sureños from their control. Those were extra bodies to help move product in one of their most successful states. It was lucrative, no matter the effort. "You'll regret giving them up when he gets the results you wanted. He'll make an extra effort to straighten it out just to say he did what you couldn't."

Silas looked into his friend's eyes and read the truth he'd spoken. He was right.

The cartel families from Canada to Colombia would jump at the chance to laugh at his weakness.

"And honestly," Armando started. "The problems aren't that far out of our control. They'd seem less important if you let us handle them." Both Armando and Gael stared at him this time. Silas could see that, between them both, was a mutual understanding. This was something they'd discussed without him.

The two men had completely different visions for the business. Gael wanted to keep everything in a nucleus. If left to his way, things would be centralized and focused. If it came at the expense of the returns or the reach of the business, so be it. It was a fair price to pay for security.

However, Armando felt things were better expanded. He wanted product on every square inch of the world. He wanted to see the cartel acting as a global business instead of having control in certain areas. He dealt in murders and extortion more than civil negotiations.

Silas looked between the two men once more. Gael's eyes were intense. He waited for Silas' response to Armando's insinuation. Armando was curious as well and his smoky black eyes were set on him. Silas sat his drink down on the table nearby. He adjusted the gold cufflinks on his suit, bringing the sleeve down farther around his wristwatch.

He wasn't in the mood to talk in riddles with his men. It was late and he was buzzed.

"If you have something you want to say to me—say it." The suggestion was more of a snarl than anything else. Armando and Gael had a silent, unspoken auction on who would speak next. Gael broke the stillness.

"We think you're too exposed." Silas turned his back on the men. He instead looked out at the partygoers below once more. His eyes skimmed the women in their revealing clubwear. He watched their bodies gyrate to the music he could faintly hear. The men lurked nearby like lions waiting for an opportunity to pounce. "You shouldn't have went to New York; we could've handled business there ourselves."

Silas' gaze fell on a woman looking right into the glass booth. She stood off at the bar with a clear drink in hand. Her dark eyes were clearly watching him.

"You're the only Capo in the world who tries to do the work of every rank."

"That's how I get shit done the way I want." He clasped his hands behind his back and the split between the crisp white button down under his suit jacket widened. The small, thin chain around his neck gleamed under the club's alternating lights. The woman gripped at her crown and flipped her thick, brown strands to the other side of her head. The act revealed a long, slender neck and even more tanned olive skin. She offered Silas a sultry look.

He governed and controlled by being present. He was active in every part of his business' sectors. From the chemical labs, the transport, weapon imports and running the numbers. Silas couldn't sit by and let someone else see to the mechanics holding him upright. It wasn't a traditional way of a cartel family; Capos led from the shadows. Their reporters selected information worth telling and handled what they wanted based on their own discernment.

"That's how you get your hands dirty - how you lose the respect of the people who work for you and around you. It's already fucking happening!" Armando said sternly. Gael huffed in annoyance at his tone. They'd rehearsed how the conversation would go three times on the ride over but now Armando was talking off-script. He was sabotaging their message with his poor approach.

Silas' brows knit together.

His skin had flushed red. He doubted his men could see from the dim lighting in the room. Silas took measured steps back to the drink he'd set down. To the naked eye, it would appear he was considering Armando's words.

Inside, Silas was seething.

He gulped until the bottom of the glass behind pieces of ice was all he could see. The drink warmed his stomach and acted like gasoline to the rage inside him.

Maybe, he was too kind to his men. Gael and Armando were his closest friends. They were initiated to prove their loyalty and they had succeeded beyond expectations. Although, they knew him well before he was consumed by the life of Jefe. They knew him when he laughed in public and didn't have to be weary of everyone around him. When his personality had more depth than just being their leader. They knew a side of him who hadn't yet earned his badges and stripes in the cartel. But he had them now. And they needed to be reminded.

Silas threw the empty glass with the force of his turmoil.

It shattered against the space to the left of Armando's head with a toe curling sound. Armando endured the splinters and shards that sliced his cheek and face. His blemish-free pale skin was dotted in specs of red. Silas could see the blood drawing from the deepest wound and running onto his white shirt.

"That's how you talk to me now?" He approached Armando slowly. He held his dominance by towering over him. "Are you the one losing respect for me, vato—bro?" The friendly term of endearment was eerily placed.