Chapter 11 - He's a Lonely Man - mduno
My comment had left him bewildered, too much so, judging by his expression.
"What? Do you also pay your friends? Or do you need to submit an application to see if you can be Roland Sandoval's friend? Not everything is about money. I don't think people in your life are loyal to you because of money."
He stayed silent, ran his hand over his bald head, and looked at me again, a bit more composed.
"You did a job, Verónica. I took half a day of your time, that should be compensated. That's how I always do it; I don't like owing anyone anything."
"The problem is that I don't do things that way. I never charge a friend when they need my help." I moved closer and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He tensed up so much that he became rigid.
"See you soon, and next time, just call me. If I'm available, I won't oppose helping you, so you don't make me feel like I was kidnapped."
I took two steps and then stopped to think, how do I get out of here without a car?
"Are there buses on the road to get back to Bogotá?"
"I'll take you."
La Rata was puzzled by his boss's attitude, still not understanding how such a young man was the boss when his security detail looked older than him. It took him a moment to react; those two men understood each other very well. With a nod, his right-hand man walked away, calling on a radio to someone named Cebolla, Cereza, Churrusco, Negro, Cuchilla, Podrido, and two even uglier nicknames, similar to feces and butt scratcher. Those were the names, but I refuse to say them.
"Let's go."
"Thanks. Do they all have those nicknames?" I asked and saw him smile. His gesture was nice; I didn't know why, but I liked it. I followed him, and as we entered the house, this Brenda was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, and Roland didn't even acknowledge her. Neither did I.
We reached the parking lot, where his men were waiting in two black SUVs, similar to the one they picked me up in. However, he opened the door of another car, a gentlemanly act. I got in; it was a latest model car. I'm bad with car brands. He walked around and got in, buckling his seatbelt, and I imitated him. My nerves were taking over my sanity... Was he going to drive me home?
"Is it safe for you to go out? I can take a bus so you don't expose yourself."
He clenched his jaw and fixed his eyes on mine; something bothered him. His reticence was growing on me. He started the car, and as we pulled away, I saw two cars following us. One moved ahead, and the other escorted us. That was leaving protected.
"Roland." He kept his eyes on the road but made it clear he was listening. "It's not right to leave your girlfriend abandoned."
"She's not my girlfriend, Verónica. She's a whore I pay and repeat with occasionally, and that made her think she had the right to come whenever she wanted. I only hooked up because I wanted to screw."
"You can't blame her. She seems in love. And don't say that word, it sounds ugly..."
He didn't let me finish, and I glanced at him sideways; he was still focused on the road.
"That's her problem, not mine. Besides, love doesn't exist. That's why I never refer to sex as love. To me, it's a simple mirage that makes people stupid, clumsy, and commit foolish acts."
How sad his life must be. I remembered what my mother used to say to my brother and me when we heard news about current crime led by minors. She argued that if parents don't give their children fundamental values, they turn them into emotionless criminals.
Because if a human being doesn't respect those who give them life, they won't obey anyone and fail in some of the sacred commandments, disrupting their life's balance. Doing so tilts the scale towards evil. I looked at him again; his face was so manly, so handsome... Which of his parents abandoned him?
"Can I put on some music?" He smiled.
"Sure, I have some CDs in the glove compartment, choose and play what you want." This car didn't have music memory. "I like listening to CDs." He read my mind. He had several of varied salsa and one of Marc Anthony's hits. I chose that one.
"Do you like it?"
I showed it to him. He glanced at it. His features were appealing; I just realized he was hurt by something. Something complicated must have happened at some point in his life. Yes, I bet the damage comes from abandonment, and to mark him like that, it must have been his mother.
"Weren't you informed about that in the investigation about me?" He smiled genuinely.
"Verónica, I don't like repeating myself. I don't know how to make you understand; certain information isn't important to me, I don't care."
I nodded, leaned towards the radio, and couldn't continue. He laughed, turned on the hazard lights, and flashed the car ahead, then pulled over to the side of the road.
"Sorry, it looks like an airplane panel."
Now he let out a laugh that captivated me, making me feel warm all over. I must be as red as a fire truck.
"Can I know what information is important to you?" It was better to talk; Marc's voice started playing.
"I don't like owing anyone favors." He changed the subject. "Tell me the value of your consultancy, and I'll pay you."
A lump formed in my throat. I looked ahead, trying to focus on trivialities while he drove. His comment was a clear warning to end this conversation. The energy between us increased, and with each passing moment, it intensified.
I focused on listening to the singer's voice. He, in turn, increased the speed. It was the second slap, without needing to hit me. He wanted to get rid of me. Roland's speed forced his bodyguards to increase theirs. So, a two-hour drive to my house turned into one.
In complete silence, which I must admit, made the hairs on my arms stand up during the ride. I realized I like him a lot, but he's not good for me. He wasn't what I wanted or needed in a man; I would never be his plaything. I know myself, I am either all in or nothing at all.
But I want to keep his friendship, something tells me he needs it. Giving him that, he was only used to buying things and he needs to learn that there are feelings that are earned, given freely, offered without expecting anything in return.
"Roland..."
"Veronica, of course we can be friends."
My eyes welled up, and I smiled without looking at him. Several long seconds passed until I dared to look, and he was already doing so. Why did he seem puzzled?
"Are you going to cry? Why?" He stopped in front of my house, arriving very quickly, like...
"Is my home address that important?" I sighed. "Roland, friendship can't be bought, do you understand? Don't offer me money anymore because I have no price. And you can count on me for whatever you need, as long as it's right from my point of view."
"You can visit me any day. Have a good night, see you another day, Veronica." I couldn't help but smile, sometimes he was decent. "What?"
"You're the second person to call me by my full name." His jaw tensed.
"Is the first one your boyfriend?"
He started the car, subtly letting me know I needed to get out. I had that strange feeling of wanting and not wanting to do so.
"No. The first was my mother."
I opened the door. As I got out, Rat was waiting for me to come down. I took out my keys, opened the gate, then the door, looked back, and he honked the horn before driving off. He waited for me to go inside, and that silly, insignificant detail pleased me.
"Vero! Hurry, help me!"
Lorena pulled me out of my delusional thoughts. Raúl was on the couch, beaten with a disfigured face, Lorena was trying to contain some wound.
"What happened?" I threw my bag on the table and ran over to them.
"You need to stitch him up and give him painkillers."
I was almost a veterinarian, so I ran to my room to get my surgical instruments, disinfected my hands to sew the wound. Lorena brought warm water and cleaned the wounds with a cloth, she also brought her entire pharmacy. She had especially suffered several times from the blows of the men she slept with. It wasn't new for me to close the wounds of my friends. I administered an antibiotic and an anti-inflammatory.
"Who did this to you, Raúl?" He said nothing. We settled him on our couch.
"A guy named Carlos, I found him about twenty minutes ago lying on our terrace. Where were you?" she asked after finishing cleaning the wounds.
"At Roland's estate."
She looked at me in a way that said, "don't play with fire," before I spoke.
"We're friends, nothing more. Roland is a man with a sadness in his soul, which forces him to treat people like dogs. Something happened to him, and maybe I'll never know what."
"Well, you're the first woman who can say that."
"Vero." We sat beside him when he called us. "Lorena." She began to stroke his head.
"We're here."
I held his hands, the eyebrow on his left side would remain split. I caressed his face.
"I love you both, thank you for always being here with me." He struggled to speak. "Vero, I have two tickets to see Marc Anthony."
"Raúl! Look at what happened to you, and you're worried about a couple of tickets?" I scolded him.
"One of you should use them. I'm still paying for them, promise me."
"Yes, we promise."
It was the only way to get him to rest. We gave him a place to stay so we could take care of him and heal him, we set up a mattress in the living room and with the painkillers, he would sleep through the night. I prepared a glass of warm milk, my friend kept analyzing me, so I couldn't take it anymore.
"Spit it out."
"I haven't said anything."
"You're dying to say something."
"Vero... just be careful, okay? He's a very dangerous man, and you don't know how bad he is."
"I already told you, we're friends."
"And I believe you."
She shrugged, we watched Raúl sleep, she sighed after a big gulp of her milk with honey.
"I'm not one to judge, Vero, and I know before God I'm a sinner, but Don Roland... You could literally say he's a demon. To get to his position, he had to kill, steal, bribe, he's a fornicator, he respects nothing, and believe me, he's never mentioned the word God, not even by accident."
I felt so much sadness, I don't understand how a human being grows up apart from the greatness of the Superior Being at their side, no matter what their concept of him is. I'm not a religious fanatic, it was just that Mom taught me to fear, respect, and above all, love him.
"This is ironic." She kept watching me. "He's gay, you're a prostitute, a very expensive one, but you are one." Lorena tried to stifle her laughter. "And I intend to teach Roland what it means to have a friend without any interest, and he turns out to be a murderer." She burst out laughing. "What a lovely bunch of friends, but I adore you two."
"After all, you're doing that demon a favor, and the feeling is mutual."
"What?" I finished my milk.
"Vero, no one can do any wrong by your side, you have something, I don't know if it's your kindness or that love you have for us, that makes it impossible to offend your principles. That's what happens with the two of us. By your side, I feel good, and I have hope not to be so judged when I die."
"You're not going to die, and stop saying that."
I looked at her, remembering we had a pending conversation, I was about to speak.
"I don't want to talk about it." She didn't like doing something.
"Lorena..."
"I'll get over it."
She gave me a sad smile and left me alone in the kitchen. What could have happened to her? I sighed. Can I teach Roland Sandoval that friendship can't be bought?