Chapter 23 - I'm not a one-woman man - mduno
Facing those eyes, I understood how miserable I had been. I had never experienced anything like it. I had disappointed her, done something unforgivable, and now I was being harshly judged. She was yelling at me to give her an explanation, something I had never done before, but in this moment, I wanted to.
She was about to find out who I really was. A drug lord at the top because I had stepped over a hundred people, I had stolen, killed, lusted, coveted; I hadn't left a single commandment unbroken. I had committed all the sins and, most of all, I didn't believe in any God. I had never stopped to analyze what I was doing until those beautiful honey-colored eyes asked me without speaking.
"I never agreed with that, and that's the reason why Miguel Salgado is dead."
I sought refuge in the eyes of Rata and Miguel; they understood. "Let this damn meeting end, quickly! I need to explain things better to Verónica." The minutes passed, and the routes for the first shipments to the United States and Spain were agreed upon.
She didn't look at me again, only spoke and waited for my response to translate. I was in limbo, limiting myself to answering questions. Every moment I had lived with Verónica flashed through my mind, from the first time I saw her taking care of her drunk friend the morning her dog was run over.
When she slept in my room, the night she left the phrase "thanks for taking care of me" in the translation. Or when she turned me on by dancing with her friend at the club; I joked with Rata that I would fuck her to that song.
However, when I danced with her... I felt something different. Also the day she told Brenda that she was a real woman because she would only let one man see her, and that triggered something in me that had been dead.
The joy in her eyes when I saved her the night of her attempted rape, I had never awakened that feeling of security in anyone before, and I didn't want to lose it, but I didn't know how to behave. Her kisses, her breath, the wetness of her thighs, and that blessed scent that I still had on my hand because I hadn't washed it.
"The meeting is adjourned," Simón intervened. I adjusted my jacket. "Let's continue with the party."
They stood up, but I remained seated, waiting for the verdict of a sentence. She didn't move from her chair; after a while, she drank the rest of the water. She had drunk more than four glasses in the two-hour meeting.
"Verónica..."
My voice came out as a whisper. She stood up as the prostitutes entered, including the ones who had traveled for me.
"I need..."
"Look, Roland, I'm not going to judge you for what you did in the past. I'll only care about what you do from now on." Was she forgiving me? And what did that mean?
"I want you to think about this." We were the only ones near the table; at the other end of the room, my partners were laughing with their respective prostitutes on their laps. "I'm in a mall and some guys kidnap me, beat me, rape me, and force me into a container headed to another country.
"When I arrive, they subject me to rigorous sexual work, start exploiting my body. I stop seeing my father, my brother, my friends, all because a group of heartless people decided to transport drugs in these women, who left behind their parents, children, siblings, family, and friends. What would you do?"
I imagined Verónica in that situation, being subjected to penetration, having any amount of semen spilled on her, forced to swallow it from countless men, whether they were drunk or depraved... The mere idea made my blood boil.
"I would kill half the world to find you, I wouldn't rest until I did and made them pay for what they did to you."
"That's exactly what the parents must think when their daughters are taken, the husbands who suddenly lose the love of their lives, the siblings, friends who can't see them because they were kidnapped. You're not the only one who thinks that when someone important to you is involved. Before you do something, think if you would like to live through it."
"I'm a damn drug lord, Verónica!" I stood up to be close to her; the others noticed our argument.
"You're an architect who creates the best buildings," she said, managing to stay calm and yet with a strength in her voice. "You're an engineer who brings his creations to life. That's who you are, Roland! It all depends on the path you choose to take."
She didn't raise her voice, but her firmness overwhelmed my strength. As much as it pained me to admit it, she had more resolve.
"And according to you, what should I do?"
Her gaze was just like a moment ago, and I didn't like that piercing visual inquisition.
"The real answer is to get out of the filthy life you're leading. However, you can't. But send your filth in a way that doesn't harm innocents. Why don't you send a bunch of hitmen and thugs with the drugs? They don't care about anything, or beings that nobody cares about. However, I repeat, no one owns anyone. Drugs are bad for everyone; you shouldn't send or make them. You have no right to decide for another human being, much less for children and women." This time she raised her voice.
"Veronica, I..."
"I'm not going to judge you." Her eyes welled up. "And I can't do anything about your past, I hope to do something in your present and future."
I hugged her, and when she returned the embrace, something from deep inside came back. I didn't know what it was.
"I promise you nothing, but I swear there will never be women and children involved. I never agreed with involving children. They were all returned, only one was violated, and I swear the one who did it regretted it."
As if what I had just said changed the facts, I wanted to seem less of a demon to her. I shouldn't justify myself, but the thought of her being far away, it gnawed at my insides. Or was it better to let her go?
"Don't tell me anything else, I don't want to know that."
She buried her face in my chest, and for the first time in my life, I felt worse than a filthy cockroach. I looked at my partners, and the atmosphere became quite heavy. It wasn't wise to have her in this place.
"Beautiful, you need to go, I'll catch up with you in a bit."
She walked away, looking around. Soon, an orgy would form. She focused on the girl from last night whose legs I had caressed at the club, then looked at the door to the side of the back room. She was too smart and figured out what was going to happen.
"Is one of those a room?"
"Yes." I didn't look away, and she stepped back a bit.
"You're a damn pig, Roland."
She left, slamming the door. My partners watched, and for a moment, I let the rage rise to my head. Who was she to screw with me like this? I went after her, but she had already disappeared. I took the elevator, went up to our rooms. I entered my room, then opened the door connecting to Veronica's room.
"What the hell happened to you?"
"You insist on always making me feel like just another one of your women, right?"
What had she smoked now? Didn't she just yell at me a moment ago when she had some reason, and now she does it again?
"What are you talking about?!"
"You always make me feel insignificant. That's what I mean!" She held back her tears. Why does she cry so much?
"I pulled you out of an orgy because you're not that kind of woman, and you criticize me for it?" I loosened my tie.
"And what was your plan? Get me out and stay with the old woman waiting for you to take her to the room for some rough sex!" She turned red, she was hysterical. "That was your plan, right?"
"What movie are you playing in, Veronica?"
For the first time in my life, I regretted saying something without thinking. Her eyes... that way of reproaching me, but the damage was already done. Her tears ran down her face, and I felt a sharp slap.
I let the rage take over, pushed Veronica against the wall, and my hand pressed her neck. I didn't squeeze, I knew she didn't have the strength to break free.
"Don't you ever lay a hand on me again! Understand something, girl, I'm not a one-woman man, and get out of that damn movie you're in. What did you think? That because we kissed, you were something to me? I want one thing from you, and from what I see, I'd rather give up on that than let you screw up my life more."
She couldn't say anything, she started crying and crying. I walked away. I left her room, slamming the door. I screamed in rage, went to the meeting, furious, grabbed the whore, and took her to the room. I left my jacket by the bed.
"Finally," said the whore.
"Start masturbating in less than a minute, I want you really wet."
I put her on all fours, and when I inserted my left index finger into her vagina, the smell repulsed me, I felt disgusted. I remembered that a few hours ago, I had caressed Veronica. I brought my right hand closer, and it still smelled like her. I stepped back, went to the bathroom, "I'm screwed." Locked inside, I undressed and got under the shower, spending a long time under the water. Then I took a towel, got dressed again, and the girl had already dressed. I didn't say anything, just left the place. Rata was kissing a brunette. Miguel and the rest were also busy with the prostitutes. I left that crap; if I didn't like it before, I liked it even less now. "What the hell did you do to me, Veronica Vásquez?"