Chapter 18 - Birthday Gift - mduno
I offered the debit card to the cashier, who took it, but Verónica snatched it from her hands to give it back to me.
"No," she said, turning red.
"Think of it as an advance for the translation work you'll do." She accepted reluctantly. I leaned close to her ear. "It's legitimate money from my legal businesses."
"Thank you."
I smiled at her like a fool. A salesperson helped us with the purchases, and we put them in the back of the truck. I felt uncomfortable with the situation; I didn't want to push her away. I liked having her close.
"I'll call him D'Artagnan." I frowned.
"Why that name?"
It was obvious, but I wanted to hear it. Simón got into the car last and broke our eye contact. I have to admit, she was the first person to make my hands sweat. Cebolla stayed out of it, as if he didn't exist, but he kept watching through the rearview mirror.
"Have you seen the movie?" I made a slight gesture. "You live with a mask." The girl's audacity was impressive. "Am I wrong?" I didn't answer.
"Where to, sir?" Cebolla turned his face, another one who noticed everything.
"To Verónica's house. Rata..."
"Simón," she corrected.
"We call him Rata out of affection," I replied, challenging her. "Besides, it doesn't bother him. In fact, he doesn't like being called by his real name."
"That's a derogatory nickname!" she argued.
"Well, then I'll call him Ratita and Cebolla, cebollita," I said, and everyone in the car burst into laughter.
"I hope you consider me a friend because I will never call him that," she commented, and he smiled. "Won't you tell me Cebolla's real name either?" The named one shook his head.
"I'll get used to it, miss," Simón commented.
"Enough with the 'miss'!" she replied.
"Call me Rata."
He responded with a smile. However, she rolled her eyes and buried her face in the ball of fur. It felt good to know she liked that simple detail.
"How much will you pay me for four days of translating conversations?"
"Sixteen million, is that okay?" Her eyes almost popped out, but she managed to not open her mouth.
"You're crazy! You really have no sense of money, and don't do it to impress..."
"Miss, the rate we pay our translators is three million a day without accommodation. We will cover all your expenses. I was the one who gave the rate to Don Roland."
Thanks, old man, for stepping in. I never handle payments. She stayed silent, looking at him, and blushed. Despite her strong character, she was very shy.
"It's too high," she whispered.
"That's what we pay. We treat you the same," I said, and she nodded and sighed at my comment.
"Fine. You only need to pay me fifteen million. Simón, deduct the amount paid by Roland as an advance."
"I will."
Time flew by, and before I knew it, the car stopped in front of her house.
"See you tomorrow." She opened the door, then turned and kissed me on the cheek. "D'Artagnan is the best gift I'll receive today. Thank you." I was left clenching my jaw like an idiot. "Sorry, I forgot you don't like kisses."
Don't like it? How did she know? She got out. Simón had already unloaded the purchases. Raúl, this time with a bruise on his face, hugged her, lifted her, and carried her inside.
"Happy birthday, my love!" Birthday? "I should cover your eyes, but... Look at this cute puppy!"
He covered her eyes and took her away. I heard Verónica's protest.
"Thanks, did you tell my coworker and have them come to the house tonight? You know..."
"It was Lorena's idea, I just went along with it."
That's why her friend was nervous. Raúl came out again and helped Rata bring in the purchases. That's why that guy said they would see each other today and hugged her... No wonder she said D'Artagnan was the best gift she'd get today. Damn! A dog wasn't a good gift. Rata sat in the passenger seat.
"Boss..." Cebolla wanted to know the next destination.
"Take me to Manolo's dealership."
They both turned their heads and understood with a look. One raised an eyebrow, and the other expressed his opinion.
"Isn't it too much?" Rata now seemed to play the role of conscience. "If you show up with a car..."
He made a face while Cebolla started the truck, and we drove off. A dog is not a birthday gift.
"You'll give it to her. If I show up, she'll probably throw the keys at me. But she likes you a lot." That last sentence came out with more irony than expected.
"Jealous, Boss?" Cebolla burst out laughing at his boss's comment.
"Not jealous or anything. I just want to give her something nice. Make sure to include our toys."
"And that? A car... A Mercedes! Is that really a gift?"
I shot my friend a piercing look. He nodded and kept quiet until we bought the car. I closed the deal with Manolo, and Rata was in charge of delivering the car while I went back home with Cebolla.
Simón stayed behind to make adjustments to Verónica's car. Cebolla was second in command after Rata, and this guy would be the perfect candidate to replace him if needed.
I know he's been well-trained and taught many of Rata's tricks. Plus, no one can beat him behind the wheel. As I got out of the car, Galaxia ran to greet me with the rest of her puppies. I won't get rid of them; two are black and white, and the other is white. The only one that's white and gray is the one I gave to Verónica. Today, November seventh, is her birthday.
"Mr. Roland, do you want dinner now?"
I stopped petting my dogs and washed my hands before heading to the table, where our old housekeeper served. I finished quickly and then got up to go to the study.
"Inés."
"I have your suitcase ready."
"Thanks." I kissed her on the cheek. She was surprised but then smiled; I had never done that before. "That's why I appreciate you."
The doorbell rang. Did Rata forget his keys? I continued walking toward the study.
"Miss Verónica!" I tensed up when I heard who it was.
"Hello, Inés, it's so good to see you."
"How are your injuries?" I walked toward the door.
"Much better, by the way..." The housekeeper stepped aside, smiling as she saw me approach.
"Verónica." Her smile vanished when she saw me.
"What you do with your hands, you ruin with your feet!"
She threw the keys at me, hitting my chest. She turned around, and when I reacted, I followed her. Simón blocked me.
"Boss, let her go. The lady is hysterical."
"Damn it! A gift shouldn't be thrown like that!"
I felt humiliated. Who does she think she is? For the first time, I give a gift, and she throws it in my face. Rata raised his hands and stepped aside.
"Verónica!"
I grabbed her arm, and as she tried to avoid me, she slipped on the gravel. I caught her as best as I could, preventing her from falling. I ended up holding her in my arms, bent over. How did we end up like this? And for a second, my anger evaporated. Her hair smelled like flowers, just like her perfume. Her breath... it intoxicated me. I had an overwhelming urge to kiss her.
"I got you," I said.
"Why do you keep doing this?"
I didn't want to let her go. I needed to keep her in my arms. Another awkward situation, but I liked having her like this. She was the one who pulled away.
"And now what did I do?"
I raised my hands in surrender. With her, I never know what to do, what to say, or how to act.
"You always treat me like one of your floozies!" I crossed my arms, smiling. I had known for a long time that she wasn't a floozy. "The puppy was enough, and it's the best gift. Why did you send a car? And besides, it's so expensive!"
She always thinks before she speaks, and she does it very well. Despite being red with anger, she controlled herself. She's like me; I explode and take the devil with me.
"It's your birthday." She looked even prettier when she was angry. I wanted to hug her. "And because I wanted to give it to you, I never thought of buying you anything you're imagining. I just wanted..."
I stopped. What would I say to her? That I wanted to show the guys she should be celebrating with that they could never compete with me? That it was some kind of male territory marking or a testosterone war? What am I trying to prove to myself? I haven't seen her with any man other than friends. Why do I act like a paranoid? Or am I insecure? I control everything, but I can't handle a twenty-one-year-old girl?
"That's not what it seems!" She snapped me out of my thoughts. "I won't accept anything from you, Roland. Thank you."
"Let me take you, Verónica," I offered.
"You should say, 'I'm sorry, I messed up again, I won't do it again.' You haven't apologized."
I looked at her coldly, something she noticed. I shook my head. I would never do that. I'm Roland Sandoval. I turned around. She stayed still because I didn't hear the gravel crunching, and I left her alone. She needs to learn that I never apologize. I take what I want.