I shrugged and he said the words again.
When they still didn’t make sense, Paulina translated, “He said, ‘My heart is full.’”
It was quite possibly the most fun I’d had in recent memory.
* * *
Sometime after 9:00 p.m., Isabella fell asleep and Paulo carried her upstairs to bed. Paulina followed, giving me a chance to check in with Colin. I told him about the day, the house, the progress of the cleanup, and that we’d still found no sign of Zaul. I explained how now that Zaul was separated from his friends we were looking for the proverbial needle and—as difficult as it was—our best bet was to wait right here. He agreed and then fell quiet. Heavy, not saying much. Finally, he said, “You remember that favor you asked of me?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve got some information for you…” I listened while Colin reported on what he’d found.
And the news was not good.
* * *
We hung up and I sat staring at the moon on the water. After a few minutes, Paulina returned and sat. Closer this time. “Where were we?” There was a childlike playfulness in her voice and an innocence in her eyes that told me she was enjoying her time here and, more important, me. I also got the impression that it wasn’t something she did with every guy she met. I admit, I was drawn to her. Maybe a lot. Well, okay, more than a lot. But I had a track record of hurting people, and something in me did not want her to be one more. I wanted to spare her from me.
Sitting on that pool deck, I was staring back over the wake of my life and the thing that struck me was how the churn and chop was littered with relationships. With people I’d used to get what I wanted. I didn’t know much about my present life or where I was going or what would happen to me when we found Zaul and I returned him to his folks, but whatever happened, I knew I didn’t want Paulina to be one more casualty in the war that had become my life. Maybe pain does that, and while I tried to mask it and pretend that I couldn’t or didn’t feel it, I was in pain. My pain painted me and was the source of what made me feel dirty. I was rarely self-aware, but somehow at that moment, bathing in the smell of coconuts and sweat and the utter delight of a woman in full bloom, I was lucid enough to know that Leena deserved better than me, and while I might not be able to get clean, I didn’t have to drag her down in the mud with me.
I turned to her. “When I came here, looking for Zaul, I didn’t expect you. This. I am having some trouble wondering what I’m going to do when I or we find Zaul and I have to leave here. I’ve enjoyed the last several days with you, but before I go any further and make you feel I’m one kind of person, I want to tell you exactly what kind I am. And if you’ll let me, I’d like to get it all out before you walk away. Because you’ll want to; you should, and when you do, you’ll be showing good sense.” I swallowed. “When I said I’d made an art of lying, I was actually telling the truth.” I took a breath and tried to figure a way in. Not finding one, I came right at it. “Paulina, I’m a drug dealer. Or I was.” She didn’t flinch, so I continued, “I’ve dealt and delivered more cocaine than most any one individual in South Florida save the Mafia and cartels. My partner and I run, or ran, a boutique purchase and delivery service. It was easy money and we’ve made a good bit. A few years back, I got up one night to go to the bathroom and stumbled over several hundred thousand dollars in plastic bags in my house in Bimini and had to figure out where to hide it because I couldn’t just walk up and deposit it in the bank.” I turned one thumb over the other. “I’ve never considered myself an evil man, but I’m not a good man, either. Good men don’t live life as I do. A couple of weeks ago, on what was to be the night before my wedding to a woman who loved me—or what she knew of me—I made a delivery. Same type I’d been making for a decade. A few kilos to a party in Miami. Zaul got mixed up in it, and as a result, his sister—the closest thing I have to a niece and maybe the only female on this planet who loves me with any real sincerity—got between him and a pit bull.” Paulina winced. “The dog attacked her face and neck, severing the nerve that allows her to smile. My former fiancée was the doctor that patched her back together, and until that moment, she had no idea that I did what I did. I’d lived two lives and she never knew of the second. I have no family, one friend, no real occupation, and I’ve contributed nothing to this earth other than broken businesses, shattered relationships, increased addictions, and greater pain.” I shook my head. “The other night I stood in the hospital room while the nurses pulled the bandages off Maria’s face and realized I don’t know how to make good on a life like mine—I doubt it’s possible—but if I could, I’d find Zaul and return him in one piece to his mom and dad and sister. And if that takes every penny I’ve ever made, and I’ve made millions, then—” I pulled a wad of cash totaling several thousand dollars from my pocket and placed it in her palm. “I’d gladly give it all and steal ten times more.” The suspicion drained out of her face and something akin to compassion took its place. I sat back. “At night, when I get angry, I think about the man who released the dog, but in my mind it’s my hands I see on the leash. I try to shower, to get clean, but I can’t.” I palmed my face. “Right now, out there is a kid trying to act tough and mimic all the gangster icons of the silver screen, and he’s in a really bad place. He’s hurt, scared, and angry. I don’t want to sugarcoat this—Maria’s face. I did that. And I did this to Zaul. So, when you look at me and we talk, you need to know who you’re looking at, where he’s come from, and what he’s brought with him.”
She leaned back and crossed her arms, but she didn’t look scared or concerned. She looked thoughtful. After a moment, she asked, “What’s one thing you’re proud of?”
“Did you hear anything I just said?”
“Answer my question.”
I shrugged.
A smile. “Just one.”
“You sure you want to go here?”
“Yes.”
“About six, no, seven years ago, I was picking up a load in Cuba. A day run. Down and back. I was literally pulling my boat out of the dock when a man wearing a dirty suit showed up at the docks with a bag of cash, his wife, and three kids. He waved the cash in my face and told me in broken English that they needed to get out right then. I asked if he had papers and he shook his head. Ninety miles away, in Florida, my partner Colin had a ‘friend’ who made papers for people. For the right amount of money, he could make you well established as a citizen of the United States. So, I looked at this scared woman, these frightened kids and this sweating man, and I asked the man, ‘What’d you do?’ He looked at his wife, then at me, and shook his head. He said, ‘I didn’t give in.’ So, I pointed to my boat, wherein they immediately disappeared below. I had no idea what I was going to do with them, but I got on the phone and talked to Colin, who met us with his friend. Last I heard, Juan—as he is now called—was selling Oriental rugs in South Florida. Doing quite well, too. Every now and then, when I’m buying my coffee at this Cuban bakery in south Miami, I bump into him. He smiles, buys my coffee, and tells me how his daughter is studying to be a doctor at UM. Every time we part, he holds my hand just a second longer and his eyes well up.” I nodded. “I’m proud of that.”
“And the worst thing?”
I sipped from our water bottle. “Paulina, you’re talking to a professional dealer.”
“Pick one.”
“Colin was having trouble getting a load in from Argentina through customs. So I flew down and bought a hundred head of Argentinian beef cattle headed to the U.S. for slaughter. Paid a premium for the beef, but it was nothing compared to what we stood to make on the drugs. So before we shipped them over, I wrapped the drugs in heavy plastic and then inserted the drugs into the females and placed them on a barge. We took delivery of the cows, retrieved the drugs, and sold the cows to a Florida cowboy who owned a chain of steak houses throughout the southeast.”