Nicolas: A MissTaken Story - Ch10

      (Landing page with info and list of sample chapters)

Chapter 10

The day of the second weapons shipment arrived, and Oscar and Nicolas drove their scooters to the range, with Javier riding behind Nicolas. Javier and Nicolas had settled their differences just two days before. Nicolas finally relented, consenting to allow the girls to stay over, but only one night a week, and not weekends, or busy times.

They arrived early—Nicolas was obsessive about arriving early—and waited impatiently for the others to arrive.

Next to arrive was the Templarios’ shipment of drugs, with one of Luis’ men driving, and two more sitting in the back, rifles at the ready. Benjamin was with them again, and waved to Nicolas as he exited the passenger side of the vehicle.

“Where’s Luis?” Nicolas asked.

Benjamin shrugged. “We came straight from the warehouse. I thought Luis was meeting us here.”

“Oh, uh,” the driver’s eyes flickered nervously, “he said he was going to be late, that we should proceed without him. Some other business to take care of this morning.”

Benjamin shot a quizzical look at the driver, then began loosening straps on the load of boxes.

It was only a minute or two before the other truck arrived. In addition to the two foreigners from last time, there were also two unfamiliar, but native-looking individuals. The two groups sized each other up, then exchanged handshakes as a gesture of trust. The newcomers began unloading their crates of firearms, and as before, Nicolas selected a couple rifles from crates to test-fire, while Javier selected some pistols at random. Oscar offered to test a crate of military-grade shotguns.

Nicolas had an uneasy feeling. Why was Luis late? Why was the driver acting so strangely? The two natives who were traveling with the gun dealers, where were they from? Why were they here? Nicolas covertly watched them; they seemed unable to take their eyes off Benjamin. Something didn’t feel right.

“Hey, Benjamin.” Nicolas sauntered toward the big man after emptying the magazine of the second rifle he had taken for testing. “How’s it going?”

Benjamin broke from his work to shake hands with Nicolas.

“Doing good, and you?”

“I’m good,” Nicolas responded, then leaning in, he spoke more quietly: “I think something’s wrong.”

Benjamin cocked his head to one side, an unspoken question in his eye.

“I don’t know, just … watch your back,” Nicolas whispered, then speaking more loudly, “We gonna test the rockets today?”

Benjamin chuckled, nodding. “I think we can arrange to test one.”

“We got this big hunk of metal for a target,” one of the native men with the visitors announced, thumping a hand on a bulky object in the truck. He directed his attention to Benjamin. “You wanna help us pack it down range?”

Benjamin’s eyes narrowed. He flashed the briefest of glances toward Nicolas.

“Sure.” Benjamin gave a half-smile as he walked over to the two natives.

The three of them dragged the object––some sort of damaged wood and metal crate—out of the truck. One of the native men took the front, while Benjamin and the other one each took a back corner. They hefted the object and began the slow, ponderous trek into the open field, away from the men, cargo, and vehicles.

“How far we goin’?” Benjamin asked.

“About two-fifty meters,” the closer of the men replied.

Nicolas selected another magazine from a crate. Keeping the rifle he had just finished testing, he ejected the empty magazine and loaded the new one. He moved into position on the range, the rifle pointed at the ground.

He stood stock-still staring intently at the three men struggling with the heavy target.

“What are you doing, man?” Oscar stood close to Nicolas and whispered the question.

“Quiet,” Nicolas hissed in response.

The men were a hundred meters out now. Nicolas checked the safety, then chambered a round. His hands trembled slightly.

A hundred and fifty meters away, one of the men swore. “I cut my finger on the edge of this box!” It was difficult to make out at this distance, but Nicolas was laser-focused on the man. “I gotta let go, you good?”

“Go ahead, I got it,” came Benjamin’s grunted reply.

The man next to Benjamin let go of the box, and turned, inspecting his hands.

Nicolas raised the rifle and sighted through the scope.

“Dude!” Oscar hissed.

“Shut up!” Nicolas hissed back.

The man who had supposedly hurt his hand slipped a machete from a sheath on his back, and with a look of murderous intent, turned back toward Benjamin. He slunk stealthily behind Benjamin, the machete raised overhead, poised to strike.

Nicolas didn’t think, he reacted. He flicked the safety on the rifle, sighted in on the machete blade and squeezed the trigger. He heard the metal-on-metal clang just as the machete jumped from the unsuspecting man’s grip.

For his size, Benjamin was startlingly fast. He dropped the crate, spun as he drew a pistol from a shoulder holster, and fired two rounds into his would-be attacker. Nicolas saw the spray of blood and gore as the large caliber bullets exited the man’s back.

The first man staggered when the back of the case dropped to the ground. He reached for his own sidearm as he sought to regain his footing.

Benjamin was too fast for him, turning back and firing three rounds before the man’s weapon cleared the holster. Benjamin took cover behind the crate, pointing his pistol in Nicolas’s direction.

Nicolas lowered the rifle, raising one empty hand overhead. Then he remembered the other men. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw them standing wide-eyed, hands frozen halfway to their own sidearms.

“Hey,” one of the arms dealers spoke softly. “We got nothin’ to do with those two. We were told to bring them to help unload. We’re just here to do business.” He slowly raised both hands, palms out, to confirm his peaceful intentions. The other man duplicated his gesture.

Everyone turned to watch as Benjamin approached, gun at the ready.

“Anybody know what that was all about?” Benjamin glanced from Luis’s men to the two visitors.

“No idea, sir.” The arms dealer spoke reassuringly. “They were a last-minute hire to help us load and unload.”

Benjamin stood, coiled like a spring, ready to strike at the first hint of movement from anyone. The other men wisely remained motionless.

The sound of an approaching jeep drew everyone’s attention to the road, as Luis and his driver pulled into the clearing.

“What’s happening here?” Luis looked surprised as he stepped from the vehicle.

Eyes flashed from one to the other as each man waited for someone else to speak up.

“I think our friends here made a hiring mistake,” Benjamin finally offered. “They accidentally took on a couple of thieves. That or maybe freedom fighters. You anchored south of here, right?” Benjamin directed the question to the arms dealers.

“Uh, yeah,” one of the men nodded.

“El Pobre Unido, maybe.” Benjamin grunted. “Trying to steal weapons for their rebellion. They tried to ambush me. Didn’t work out for them, though.”

There were several relieved grunts of affirmation from both sides.

“Yeah, that was probably it.” One of Luis’s men eagerly supported Benjamin’s theory.

“Ah, well, I am … so glad you’re okay,” Luis offered, eyeing Benjamin closely. “Tell me, how did you manage to escape their trap?”

“Luckily, Nicolas saw right through them.” Benjamin fixed his eyes on Nicolas. “He knew they were up to something, he warned me.”

“Really?” Luis shifted his penetrating gaze to Nicolas.

“Yeah…” Nicolas began haltingly. It was more than just those two. Nicolas was sure of it. The other men knew something. He glanced at Benjamin again. Something in his expression seemed to warn Nicolas to keep those suspicions to himself.

“Yeah, I don’t know exactly. Just … something about the way those two talked. It just felt … off. So, I told Benjamin.”

“And so, I was ready for them,” Benjamin finished. “You got a good man there, Luis. We should probably wrap up here and make those bodies disappear.”

“I’ll take care of them,” Luis quickly offered. “You finish the transaction, yes?”

Nicolas ejected the magazine and cleared the chamber of the rifle, returning it to the case.

Benjamin walked over to assist in closing the case and loading into the Templarios’ pickup.

“I owe you my life, man,” Benjamin murmured to Nicolas.

“Oh, I uh …” Nicolas stuttered.

“Seriously, Nicolas.” Benjamin fixed him with a hard stare. “You ever need anything, you call me. I’ll take care of it.”

With testing done, Nicolas and his friends were no longer needed. They got on their scooters and drove back to the apartment.

“What was that all about?” Javier asked as they walked back into the condo.

“I don’t know,” Nicolas answered honestly.

“But it was more than just a couple rogue bandits, wasn’t it?” Oscar joined in the interrogation. “I mean, you were … on edge, man.”

“I dunno.” Nicolas shook his head. “Benjamin said bandits, he’d know better than me.”

Later that evening, a knock at the door startled the three boys.

“Are you gonna get that?”

Nicolas turned to stare at Javier, and realized both he and Oscar were staring at him.

“Open up, it’s me, Benjamin,” the familiar voice spoke through the door.

Relieved, Nicolas jumped up and opened the door.

“Hey, man, come in. Everything okay?”

“I was just gonna ask you. You guys okay?”

“Yeah.” Nicolas relaxed when Benjamin didn’t seem tense. “What was that?”

Benjamin looked over his shoulder, then scanned the room. Nicolas closed and locked the door.

“You trust your friends? To keep a secret?” Benjamin directed the question to Nicolas.

“Them?” Nicolas’s eyes gestured to Oscar and Javier. “Yeah, I trust ’em.”

Benjamin looked around again, uncertainly. His shoulders sagged slightly.

“It was my fault, I guess.”

“How so?” Nicolas frowned.

“When I was young, the Templarios’ leader was a different man. He lived in Acapulco, but he fancied himself a gentleman farmer. He spent much of his free time in southern Guerrero. So, my father spent time there as well. I grew up near the Oaxaca border.”

“You want something to drink?” Oscar offered when Benjamin paused.

“Cerveza?”

Oscar went to the kitchen to pull a bottle from the refrigerator.

“I met a girl down there, when I was … maybe sixteen. She was fourteen—very pretty.

“What I didn’t know then, she was the daughter of a prominent figure in the Oaxaca Cartel. The Oaxaca Cartel worked for the Tijuana Cartel, with whom the Templarios were bitter rivals.”

“Oh, wow.” Javier stared with wide eyes.

“Yeah, it was kinda like the Montagues and Capulets.”

The three boys stared blankly.

“Romeo and Juliet?” Benjamin frowned. “Don’t you read that in school?” Benjamin shook his head and mumbled something under his breath. Nicolas caught the word ‘uncultured’ but couldn’t make out the rest.

“Anyway, both our fathers put an end to that as soon as they figured it out. But …” Benjamin winced. “Our relationship had already … bloomed … by then.”

“I was willing to marry her,” Benjamin hastily added, his voice somewhat defensive. Then he sighed. “But my father would have none of that, and sent me off to train under Gonzalo, who was being groomed to take over the business from his father. He was already running much of the northwestern operations.”

“So, what happened to the girl?” Javier prodded.

“No se, just rumors. I heard the baby was stillborn, and she blamed her father, who in turn blamed me for ruining his relationship with his little princesa. Anyway, those two would-be assassins were Oaxaca cartel, and I know Gonzalo was working to broker a deal of some sort with them. A merger or something. My guess is that giving his men a shot at me was part of the deal.”

“What? No way!” Oscar clenched his fist, his face clearly telegraphing his outrage at the idea.

Benjamin shrugged. “It’s business. Employees are expendable.”

“What are you gonna do?” Nicolas asked, his eyes downcast, unwilling to meet Benjamin’s.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Javier’s tone was incredulous.

“They tried and failed. Gonzalo doesn’t know I know. So, he gave them their chance and––for the time being at least––it’s business as usual. He can honestly say he didn’t interfere. Their blunder shouldn’t mess up his plans, unless her father is crazy bitter. At any rate, he likely won’t be able to negotiate another shot at me for a while. I’m a good soldier, Gonzalo won’t sell me off cheaply. Especially not a second time.”

“You’d still work for him?” Oscar shook his head.

“It’s a job. Job’s a job.”

“Most jobs you just get fired, not killed by your boss.”

“Pros and cons, I suppose.” Benjamin held his hand up as if weighing the two in the balance.

“How is there a pro to killed versus fired?” Javier stared in disbelief.

“Well,” Benjamin looked upward, considering, “you don’t have to see the look of disappointment on your family’s faces when you have to tell them you can’t feed them anymore.”

“That’s messed up.” Oscar mumbled it under his breath, Nicolas heard it though.

“Pay’s good,” Benjamin explained, “which is good for my mamá. Medical bills.”

“Your father?” Nicolas queried.

“Died in a firefight with some special anti-drug force several years ago.”

“Sorry, man.”

“It’s business,” Benjamin countered. “Look, I just wanted to stop by and make sure you guys were okay, I know you’re mostly in the softer side of the business.”

“Oh yeah,” he said as he raised a hand, “I’m also supposed to let you know Gonzalo wants to meet you three. You’ll get a call tomorrow, about a dinner invitation for Sunday afternoon. Probably at one of the country clubs. Keep your schedule open.”

Benjamin went to the door, opened it, and then paused halfway out.

“And I’m serious, Nicolas.” He poked his head back into the room. “You need anything at all, you call me. I’ll take care of you.”

Nicolas: A MissTaken Story - Ch9

     (Landing page with info and list of sample chapters)

Chapter 9

 “Rocket launchers?” Oscar stared at Javier in disbelief.

“I swear it’s the truth.” Javier raised his arm as if he was testifying under oath.

“For real?” Oscar’s gaze shifted from Javier to Nicolas.

“For real,” Nicolas confirmed.

“You missed out, man.” Javier smirked.

“Somebody has to manage the business while you’re out playing,” Oscar retorted.

“We got paid,” Javier shot back.

“Oh good, and when’s the next job?”

“In a month.”

“Wait.” Oscar furrowed his brow. “Really?”

“Yup,” Javier sneered.

“Aww, man!” Oscar smacked the arm of the couch in frustration.

“Maybe I’ll take you instead of Nicolas next time, if you can convince me you deserve it.”

“What?” Nicolas’s eyes went wide. “No way, man, I’m gonna be there when they test the rocket. Besides, I’m making connections, me and Benjamin are like that.” He held his hand up and twisted his fingers together.

“Who’s Benjamin?” Oscar scowled.

“He’s the main bodyguard for the main man.” Nicolas puffed out his chest. “Oh yeah, by the way, did you know Luis isn’t the big boss?”

“Well, yeah.” Oscar wrinkled his nose in thought. “I mean, the Templarios are all over Guerrero, right? But Luis just handles Ixtapa, so obviously.”

“Anyway,” Nicolas tried to cover his irritation that Oscar had worked it out for himself, “Benjamin is the bodyguard for Gonzalo––he’s the real leader of the Templarios.”

Nicolas paused, waiting for Oscar to express awe or admiration. To his annoyance, no such response came.

Nicolas continued, “he and I hung out—shot guns together.”

“Cool,” Oscar offered, nodding his head. To Nicolas, it looked more like he was being placatory, rather than truly impressed.

“Well, I’m going next time,” Nicolas grumbled, glaring at Javier. “Maybe Oscar can come with me, and you can stay and watch the shop.”

“No way,” Javier objected, “this is my gig, man. I set this up, don’t try and squeeze me out.”

“Oh, will you two stop bickering.” Oscar rolled his eyes. “You were only gone for like, half the day, and in the middle of the week. We can all go, and it won’t make a difference to business here.”

“Whatever. I gotta go.” Javier jumped up and headed toward the door, then looked over his shoulder, a smug grin on his face. “I’m hosting a party near the south beach tonight, gonna show up in a Porsche, I gotta go pick it up.”

“Don’t crash the rental, man.” Oscar didn’t even bother to look up.

Javier shot dagger eyes at Oscar, made a gesture, then closed the door forcefully as he exited the apartment.

Oscar and Nicolas sat in silence for a while, watching a show on the television.

“He’s hosting parties now?” Oscar shot an incredulous look at Nicolas. “How’s he gonna pay for that?”

“He is getting paid to host the parties,” Nicolas explained. “He told me a little bit about it while we were driving out to the range. He’s like … catering or something for these super-rich Americans. Like private birthday parties or bachelor parties or whatever. They’re here with friends to have a really crazy time, and Javier acts as their contact. He hooks them up with a place, food, drinks, drugs, girls …”

“You mean prostitutes?” Oscar queried.

“I don’t know, maybe. I bet there’s lots of girls that would go, just to go to a fancy party. Just whatever the guys want. Javier works with Luis, gets the right people and makes sure everything runs smoothly, and that the guys have a great time, then he gets a big tip at the end.”

Oscar snorted disapprovingly.

“What?” Nicolas defended Javier. “He’s got a good face for it, he’s easy-going and fun. He’s getting pretty good money throwing parties for people who are stupid-rich too. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Maybe.” Oscar’s eyes grew distant. He opened his mouth as if to say more, faltered, then closed his mouth again, with a shake of his head.

“What?”

“Nothing, man, forget it.” Oscar yawned, rising from the couch. “I’m sleepy. I’m gonna call it a night.”

“Yeah, me too.” Nicolas flicked the television off and went to his own room.

Nicolas was awakened at four in the morning by the sound of giggling. Shaking sleep from his head, he pulled on his pants and, opening the door to his room, he peered into the living area.

Nicolas rubbed his eyes and looked again. Javier was standing between two girls, an arm around each. Both of the women were extremely attractive, and both were wearing very expensive evening dresses. Javier himself was wearing a tuxedo. The three seemed … very affectionate.

“Oh, Nicolas,” Javier gasped, “sorry, were we too loud?”

Nicolas continued to stare, mouth agape.

“This is my partner, Nicolas.”

“Hi, Nicolas,” the two women sang in unison, then broke into another giggling fit.

“Nicolas, this is Carmen.” Javier inclined his head to the girl on his left, a slender blonde with pouty lips and sultry eyes. “And this, is Daniella.” Javier indicated the doe-eyed brunette on his right.

“Javier, can I speak with you privately for a minute?”

“Oh, sure.” Javier’s eyes flicked from one woman to the other. “Please excuse me for a minute, ladies. My partner and I have some business to discuss.”

The women giggled again as Javier extricated himself and sauntered over to Nicolas.

“What’s up?” Javier stared at Nicolas with a jaunty expression.

“Who are they?”

Javier furrowed his brow. “Carmen and Daniella.”

Nicolas closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What are they doing here?”

“I’m giving them a tour of my place.” Javier turned to wave at the women, who were now standing arm in arm whispering and giggling. They returned his wave.

“Why?” Nicolas fixed Javier with an exasperated stare. “Who are they to you? Where do you know them from?”

“Oh, I met them at the party tonight, and it was love at first sight. Isn’t it great?”

Nicolas cast a dubious glance at the two girls.

“Which one?”

“Both,” Javier replied brightly.

Nicolas scowled, shaking his head slowly.

“No.”

“No what?”

“They’re not staying here.”

“What? Oh c’mon.”

“You know the rules.” Nicolas crossed his arms.

“You said no parties. These are my girlfriends.”

“Really?” Nicolas stared incredulously.

“Really. I love them.” Javier glanced over his shoulder again, smiling at the women. “And they love me.”

“Fine,” Nicolas snarled, “but not here. You can love them someplace else.”

“Oh really,” Javier hissed. “If Oscar brings a girl home, are you going to kick her out? What happens when you meet a girl? Will the same rule apply then?”

“Yes,” Nicolas growled, “it will.”

The two stared defiantly at each other for several seconds.

“Fine.” Javier finally broke away. “Ladies, my partner has just reminded me of some rather delicate business occurring here later, so he needs us to postpone the tour to another day. It’s short notice, but perhaps we can find an executive suite at one of the resorts.”

The girls exchanged excited glances, giggling again as Javier placed himself between them and steered them to the door.

Nicolas: A MissTaken Story - Ch8

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Chapter 8

Summer settled into a routine for the boys. The weekdays were relatively laid back, with time on their hands to relax. They would usually get one or two shipments during the week, in the evenings, and there would be an occasional sporadic request from one of the distributors.

The weekends were a mad rush. On Friday and Saturday nights, almost every distributor would come in for a refill, and they were frequently invited to more than one party.

Oscar always offered to stay and ‘mind the shop’, so Javier and Nicolas would go to the parties. It was a bit strange for Nicolas. He and Oscar had always hung out the most as kids. Javier and Gaspar had been around, but they also had other friendship groups they spent time with, and Nicolas lived far enough away, they would only see each other on occasional weekends. Nicolas and Oscar’s parents were friends, and one or the other would travel to visit at least once a month. Sometimes the boys were allowed a week-long sleepover. They were frequently together back then; fishing, or riding bikes, or just wandering the neighborhoods. Now, it seemed Oscar would always disappear when they’d make plans to go to the beach, or when there was a party to attend.

Nicolas liked Javier well enough, it wasn’t that it bothered him to hang out with Javier, it was just weird that Oscar was never around.

A month into the summer, this changed slightly. Luis invited the boys to go shooting one morning during the week. Oscar was available for that, and it became a part of the regular weekly routine. Every Tuesday, they would drive out of town to a remote area and shoot at targets, with a variety of guns provided by Luis: handguns, shotguns, rifles … Luis even had a fully automatic AK-47. Nicolas favored rifles. He took to it naturally, and within a few weeks, he was putting a two-and-a-half-inch grouping on a target at three hundred meters.

Oscar’s grouping was closer to five inches at that distance, and Javier gave up by two hundred meters. He preferred the automatic anyway, though he did discover a talent for speed-shooting with the handguns.

Nicolas was easily the best shot with rifles at a distance; he even managed to earn a little extra money taking bets on distance shots with military, police or mercenaries, who would occasionally show up to shoot with Luis and his friends. He only ever lost once, to a guy who he later learned was a professional sniper. He picked up a few tips from him, so in the end it was more payment for a lesson than a loss.

Fall and winter saw a slight turndown in business, as the American students returned to their studies. It didn’t have a significant impact on Nicolas and his friends though. Rent was free, regardless. There was a downturn for the shops, thus a reduction in their income from collections, but not so bad as to worry them. Javier complained some. He had discovered he was able to attract the affections of a few of the young girls by buying them little trinkets and taking them to the fancier clubs. Unfortunately, as his money waned, so did their attention.

Oscar shook his head in disgust as Javier complained.

“You need help, man.”

“Oh, yeah, like I’d take relationship advice from you,” Javier quipped. “When was the last time you had a date? Lunch with your mommy doesn’t count.”

Oscar rolled his eyes and stalked out of the room, mumbling.

“Dude,” Nicolas chastised Javier, “that was cold. Just ’cause he’s not a player, like you.”

“I’m not a player. I just know, if you wanna find your princess, you gotta kiss a lot of frogs.”

“Frogs?” Nicolas raised a brow. “Really?”

“What?” Javier spread his arms defensively.

Nicolas sighed. “Oscar’s right, man. You do need help.”

As winter gave way to spring, and tourists began blossoming on the beaches once more, Javier’s complaining subsided.

“Maybe you should pace yourself,” Nicolas suggested one evening. “Save some of your money now, so you have enough for the winter, you know?”

“Naw.” Javier shook his head. “What I need to do is develop more income opportunities. I’ve been talking to Luis. He thinks he might have something for me, some other businesses the organization is looking to get into. He says I have a good face for it. Handsome, honest … speaking of which, I need your help this Thursday.”

“For what?” Nicolas asked pensively.

“There’s some guys coming in, looking to sell some guns. Luis just needs a couple of us to check the guns.”

“Luis is buying guns? What for? Doesn’t that mostly happen near the border?”

“Yeah.” Javier agreed. “Usually does. There’s been some freedom-fighter group setting up in Templario territory recently, south of here, so not really bothering us yet, but Luis is concerned about it. He wants to be prepared, make sure they stay in check, you know?”

“I don’t know.” Nicolas frowned. “I didn’t sign up to be a soldier. Why not let the police handle it?”

“We’re not gonna be involved in any action.” Javier rolled his eyes. “We’re just gonna test a few guns out for Luis, make sure they are good quality before he buys them. It’ll be just like any other target-shooting trip for us. No biggie.”

“You sure?” Nicolas eyed him skeptically.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

As Javier predicted, it was very much like any other target-shooting trip. A pickup truck arrived with crates in the back. In the crates were assorted firearms. The men delivering them claimed they were ‘misplaced’ inventory from the US military.

Nicolas was directed to select a few rifles at random and test them, to make sure they fired properly. The men continued to unload the crates while Nicolas and Javier obliterated various targets.

Several minutes later, one of Luis’ trucks arrived, with crates of its own. The men inspected the crates, then began transferring them to their now empty pickup.

So, it’s a trade, Nicolas thought. Drugs for guns.

A man Nicolas didn’t recognize joined them on the firing line. Nicolas eyed him curiously as he inspected, loaded and fired a very military-looking gun. Too short for a rifle, too big for a pistol. Nicolas had never been big into guns but this looked like something from the movies; all black, sleek and sexy.

The man had larger than normal hands, to complement his larger than normal body, yet he handled the gun with easy dexterity. He brought the collapsing stock to his shoulder and sighted down the short barrel. An imperceptible squeeze of the trigger, and the gun fired. He paused briefly, then fired a dozen more rounds in quick succession.

“You ever fired an MPX before?” The voice was soft and sonorous. The big man gave only the briefest of nods in Nicolas’s direction.”

“No, sir.” Nicolas shook his head.

“You wanna try?” The man held the gun out toward Nicolas.

“Okay.” Nicolas moved haltingly. The man was a full head taller than Nicolas, but that wasn’t what made him so intimidating. His biceps were larger in diameter than Nicolas’s legs.

“Don’t worry, the gun won’t bite.” One corner of the man’s mouth turned up slightly in a smirk. “And neither will I.” He handed the MPX to Nicolas and talked him through the proper stance and grip.

“Nice.” The man complimented Nicolas as his first round struck its intended target. “Now try squeezing twice in rapid succession.”

Nicolas squeezed the trigger, then again and again. Three rounds in less than a second. It felt … powerful.

“I said twice.” The man scowled at him.

“Sorry.” Nicolas held the gun out stiffly at arm’s length.

The man glared briefly, then chuckled. “I’m just messing with you. It’s pretty fun, yeah?”

Nicolas grinned. “Yeah.”

“You’re a good shot with a rifle. What’s your name?”

“Nicolas.”

“Benjamin.” The man offered a giant hand. Nicolas couldn’t even properly grip the man’s hand to shake it; his own hand was completely swallowed up in Benjamin’s fist.

“Nice to meet you.” Nicolas gave a sharp nod of his head and said, “Do you work for Luis? I’ve never seen you before. Are you new?”

“No, I don’t work for Luis, I’m usually with Gonzalo. He wanted me to help with this delivery though.”

“Who’s Gonzalo?”

Benjamin maintained an even composure, but Nicolas detected the faintest upturn of the corners of his mouth, and the slightest twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

“He’s Luis’ boss. He is the head of the Templarios.”

“Oh, wow.” Nicolas felt the heat creeping into his cheeks. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember Luis mentioning him.”

“Possible he didn’t,” Benjamin said. “It’s a pretty large organization, divided into separate cells. The lower-level bosses generally work autonomously. No need for you to know your boss’s boss. Better if the lowers don’t know, in fact.”

 “Oh.” Nicolas flinched at this revelation. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Don’t sweat it. If you’re here, now, Luis must think you have a future in the organization. You’re fine to know.” Benjamin smirked. “Wouldn’t matter to me anyway, you know?”

“But …” Nicolas frowned, perplexed, “you’re … like … the bodyguard, then, aren’t you?”

Benjamin shrugged modestly. “My father was, so now I am. Family business, you know? Not what I would have chosen but … you know ... you do what you gotta.”

“I’m keeping this one,” Benjamin announced to the other men, holding the MPX up for all to see. No one challenged him, and he collected extra magazines and a holster from the crate.

The final crate of weapons was the surprise of the day; it contained a small number of six-foot-long tubes, and a larger number of rockets.

“RPG-29.” Luis smiled at Nicolas who stared, wide-eyed. “We won’t be testing those, since everything else tested good. We’ll take their word for it on those. It would be fun to see though, no?”

Nicolas grinned and gave a nod as the men closed the crate back up and loaded it onto Luis’ truck.

Luis chuckled. “They’ll be bringing another shipment in a couple months. Perhaps we can arrange just one demonstration then.”

Nicolas: A MissTaken Story - Ch7

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Chapter 7

The rest of the weekend passed quietly. Oscar and his father showed up on Sunday morning with a carload of Oscar’s things. His father stared in awe—and perhaps a touch of envy—at the condo, but asked no questions as he helped move boxes in. When the last box was in the condo, he shook Oscar’s hand awkwardly, and left the three boys to their amusements.

Luis arrived with a knock on the door on Monday in the early afternoon, along with a small pack of rather unpleasant-looking ruffians, who he introduced as the delivery men. Luis presented Nicolas with a ledger for tracking inventory and money, and then walked him through the process of cataloging incoming inventory as the ruffians shuttled crates of product into the designated storage room in the condo.

“You must be meticulous in your record-keeping,” Luis emphasized, “clerical errors are unnecessarily costly to the business.”

“Okay.” Nicolas fidgeted nervously.

“You’ll do fine. I have complete confidence in your abilities.” Luis smiled reassuringly.

“That takes care of the first part of your responsibilities, and you’ve met the delivery team. Now we must introduce you to the customer service team. How about we throw a party this weekend? You are, of course, welcome to invite a few friends if you wish. I will introduce you to each of the dealers, so you will know their faces, and they will know yours.”

Nicolas glanced at Javier, who grinned triumphantly.

* * *

The week passed slowly, with little to do but sit in the apartment. Nicolas was too worried about the safety of the recently stocked storeroom to go any farther than the pool, and even that only for a half hour at a time.

“Are we supposed to be hosting this party?” Oscar asked on Saturday afternoon, as he and Nicolas sat on the balcony. “Do we need to go get stuff? Food and drinks, decorations or something?”

Nicolas’s face fell. “I don’t know.”

A knock at the door made Nicolas jump.

“I’ve got it!” Javier’s voice came from inside.

Oscar and Nicolas stood still, staring uncertainly at each other.

A minute later Javier strode onto the balcony followed by a youthful looking man in a perfectly pressed suit, with perfect skin, perfect hair, and perfect teeth. He was followed by a man and a woman, both dressed in executive attire.

“These guys are here to set stuff up for the party tonight,” Javier announced.

“Excellent.” The impossibly perfect man scanned the balcony. “We will get started on decorations and furniture right way. You can go ahead and do whatever it is you have planned for this morning.”

The man dismissed the boys with a wave of his hand.

“I don’t have any plans,” Nicolas stubbornly replied.

The man stared down his nose at Nicolas. Nicolas met and held the man’s gaze, unblinking.

“We need this space clear, so that we may get everything prepared.” The man spoke in a condescending tone. His voice was tight with poorly disguised annoyance.

“I won’t be in your way.” Nicolas planted his feet firmly and folded his arms across his chest.

“Fine.” The man huffed, turned on his heels and strode back into the condo. He snapped his fingers, and the man and woman who were with him raced to him like trained dogs.

Oscar fidgeted uncomfortably. “I gotta go do some shopping, you okay without me?”

“Fine.” Nicolas continued to stare icily at the entry to the condo.

“Okay if I come with?” Javier asked.

“Uhm, sure.”

Nicolas followed Oscar and Javier to the main room and plopped down on the couch, where he had a clear view to the door of the storage room. He turned on the television.

“Okay, laters.” Javier gave a quick wave and jogged out of the condo. Oscar stood uncertainly for a moment, then turned and followed.

Nicolas fumed. He was annoyed that after spending hours saying no to Javier, Javier ultimately got his way. The Templarios recruited him. The condo was offered to him. Javier and Oscar were tag-alongs. Didn’t that mean he should be in charge? And now here he was, responsible for storing and distributing an expensive, illegal product, and he had seemingly no control over his circumstances. Strangers coming and going, trying to bully him into leaving his own house, into leaving his inventory unattended. The nerve!

The next several minutes were uncomfortable for the workers, and mildly entertaining for Nicolas. He met each with a hard stare as they entered the room, from which they visibly flinched. One nearly dropped the armload of decorations she was carrying. Before long, however, the workers carefully avoided meeting Nicolas’s gaze. In time, Nicolas grew bored and turned his attention to the football game on the television.

Nicolas wasn’t really all that into sports, but once he started watching a game, he had to see it to the end. He didn’t know the teams; he’d usually pick a team to cheer for based on which color of uniform, or which logo he liked better. He knew the basics of the rules, and he knew a good play when he saw it.

Nicolas noticed a couple of the workers were football fans. Two in particular made frequent trips to the living space and walked very slowly whenever they had a view of the screen. At one point, one let out an involuntary cheer when a goal was scored, and Nicolas turned abruptly, staring as the red-faced young man scurried out of the room and back to his assigned duties.

The game ended and Nicolas thumbed through the channels a few times, but finding nothing to watch, he finally turned the television off and sat silently, observing the caterers who by now had grown sufficiently accustomed to his presence that they simply ignored him as they scurried about.

Nicolas occupied himself by counting the floor tiles, and by looking for patterns within the patterns of the tiles—faces or other shapes the manufacturer had not intended, but which were nonetheless visible to the sufficiently creative mind.

His exploration was interrupted much later in the day by familiar voices approaching.

“Good afternoon, Nicolas.”

Luis spied Nicolas on the couch as soon as he entered the room and flashed a warm smile in greeting. Javier and Oscar followed close behind.

“Oscar tells me I caused you some distress this morning, sending the caterers in unannounced.” Luis shook his head slowly, bowing slightly in a gesture of humility. “Please accept my apology, this is, after all, your home. It was rude of me not to consult with you.”

“It’s okay,” Nicolas murmured, “I was just nervous about the … inventory is all.”

Luis grinned. “Good boy, ever attentive to your responsibilities. Admirable.”

Nicolas flushed at the praise Luis heaped on him.

“Dude, guess what?” Javier broke in, “Oscar bought a scooter. Can you believe it? Like, where did he get the money?”

Oscar blushed. “I don’t spend my money like you do, Javier, I’ve been saving it up. It’s not a new scooter,” he confided, “it’s a bit rusty and clunky, but it runs well enough. Pretty sure I can fix it up.”

“I’m gonna wait for a sports car,” Javier declared, “the chicas dig a man in a sports car.”

“Oh yeah,” Oscar retorted, “you gonna buy it with all that money you’re not saving, huh?”

“Shut up, man.” Javier made a loose fist and swatted Oscar’s arm.

The guests arrived, a few at a time, and Luis introduced Nicolas to each of the individuals he would be distributing product to. Nicolas was surprised by the amount of diversity. Some were well-dressed, sophisticated-looking individuals, with pretty girls hanging on their arms. Others were scruffy-looking beach bums, still others were intimidating tattooed men. There were a few women as well, including an elderly woman who looked more like a sweet grandmother than a drug dealer.

“We cater to a broad demographic,” Luis explained, “different people are more comfortable doing business with certain types of suppliers.”

What surprised Nicolas even more was that Luis knew each one by name. Not only that, but he knew the names of their families—mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, and children.

Nicolas had gone to work with his father once several summers ago. His father’s supervisor struggled to remember his father’s name. Of course, the fact that he was probably drunk was a factor. Nine o’clock in the morning and the man reeked of tequila.

The more time Nicolas spent around Luis, the more he admired him. He’d always heard stories about the brutality of the cartels—of their complete disregard for human life. Perhaps those who spun such tales were merely jealous. Luis was one of the most civilized men Nicolas had ever met.

The rest of the evening passed pleasantly. There were a few discreet inventory transactions, which Luis observed, and on which he provided feedback. It was a simple enough process, Nicolas concluded. He’d just need to be disciplined about record-keeping.

A handful of stray vacationers passed through as well. A few appeared to be customers of one or more of the distributors he’d met. Nicolas found it necessary to shift his perception of them somewhat, setting aside his usual disdain for them as targets, and extending a degree of gracious hospitality to them as paying customers. It felt awkward, unnatural.

Diplomacy. The word popped into his mind. The art of saying ‘nice doggy’ until you can find a big stick.

He couldn’t remember where he’d heard that. His history teacher maybe? At any rate, it was cynically fitting for the current circumstance. They were still the same spoiled, selfish, obnoxious brats that he and his friends used to steal from. Only now they were customers, participating in a legitimate business transaction. Maybe legitimate was a stretch, but a traditional exchange of cash for goods, at any rate.

“You know,” Nicolas observed, speaking to Luis, “these kids like booze as much as, or more, than the other stuff. Maybe we should keep some of that on hand if we’re going to have parties like this very often. I think they’d pay more just for the convenience.”

“No.” Luis shook his head. “We don’t wish to compete with the nightclubs and bars. That is their business. We leave that alone, and in return, they make it easier for us to access their customers. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.” Luis tapped a finger to his head. “Remember, Nicolas, you’ve got to think long-term.”

Nicolas was exhausted when the party finally ended, just two hours before sunrise. They closed the door as the last guest left, and then crashed, sleeping late into Sunday afternoon.