Romulus
and Remus were suckled by the same she-wolf. This was not true of
José Carlos and Alejandro Larios and not because they were not
twins. While they shared a father they had different mothers.
Gloria, the first wife of Carlos, was the mother of José Carlos who
accutely felt her loss having been rejected by his stepmother, a
one-time Circe named Catalina Creel.
It
has been some time since I've brought you tales of those who think
themselves gods or at the very least above all rules of society. They
see money less as evidence of status than as a means to any end they
seek. It is the one commodity that is universally understood as well
as desired. – D.D.
Late
one night in Acapulco Carlos Larios struggled in the water as his
wife, Catalina, radioed for help. “Help! Help! My husband fell
overboard.” She heard him break the surface and struggle to
breathe.
She put down the communicator and stepped out to find him
climbing back into the starboard side of the yacht. Silently she
went over to where the first aid kit and portable fire extinguisher
was kept and took it out as he was about to lift himself into the
boat.
“Help
me!” he said. “Help me!”
He
saw how she was handling the fire extinquisher.
“No,
no! Catalina!”
She
hit him hard near the top of his forehead. Just once. The force was
enough to knock him back into the water. She then turned her back on
him. A rescue boat manned by divers arrived and did their work.
When the boat pulled into the dock a short while later it was met by
an army of journalists – myself among them – with cameras
flashing as police worked to restrain the activity.
Francisco Larios
– Carlos' younger brother – pushed his way through to the gurney
that held his brother's body. He zipped open the body bag and backed
off without a word as the emergency medics took the gurney into the
ambulance. He then looked at his sister-in-law. She stood up and
walked over to him.
They embraced and said nothing. Each stared over
the other's shoulder emotionlessly.
Hours
before this Catalina had watched Carlos on his private golf course in
the company of her executive housekeeper, Gélica. The two women
could not have been more unlike each other; Gélica's face was
rounded anad open while Catalina's was angular and sharp, devoid of
softness. The leather patch she wore over her right eye socket was
held in place by a strap that was mostly concealed by her dark hair.
They spoke of the Larios men. Gélica asked whether her mistress was
still in love with her husband. She replied that “Carlos and I are
a team, but the love of my life is Alejandro.” She was speaking of
her son. She also spoke of being nervous about the evening to come.
She watched as Carlos and Alejandro walked back toward her and her
cell phone rang.
“It's
José Carlos,” Gélica said, handing the phone to her. Catalina
took it and reluctantly answered.
“What
do you want, José Carlos?” she asked.
“I'm
trying to locate my father,” he said while opening a hip flask.
“Is he there?” He was calling from Panama City.
“He
is very busy right now, trying to organize the event for tonight.”
“Yes,
I imagine, but I have to talk to him. Pass the phone to him,
please.”
“He
can't answer right now.”
“I've
been trying to reach him for a long while. Pass me to him.”
“What
do you want me to tell him? Your father is very busy.”
“Nothing
more than I called and he needs to call me back. Okay?” José
Carlos turned around to see a policeman ticketing his car.
After
ending the call she commented to Gélica that addicts never recover.
Carlos
putted the ball, then fell down in pain. Alejandro ran over to him,
followed by his mother. Later Carlos asked the
doctor for his opinion. “You brought all that in your bag? Oscar,
am I going to die?” He was trying to joke about it.
“Everyone
dies someday,” the doctor said. “Carlos, this isn't a joke; it's
serious. You're not twenty years old. You have to take care of
yourself. Are you following your treatment?”
“More
or less. It's very difficult. No alcohol, no stress, not eating
rich food. But above all, I can't stop enjoying my beautiful wife.”
“Well,
you can enjoy taking beautiful vacations with your wife, but relax.”
“Tonight
we have a event.”
“Very
good. No alcohol, no excesses. I want to see a good report on your
next exam.”
“Yes,
but after the second honeymoon.”
The
doctor took his leave, saying he would be at the party that night.
Catalina saw him out. On the way he emphasized that Carlos had to be
careful, but Catalina told him that this was not going to be easy.
In addition to the usual business concerns Carlos worried about his
son, José Carlos, who had left a rehab facility several months ago
and had not been heard from. They had no idea where he was or what
he was doing. Oscar told her he should try to forget these things
for a few days, then left. When Catalina was alone she took out her
phone and made a call. She found out that José Carlos had been
arrested.
Not
for long, however. That evening he walked out of the police station,
got into his red late-model car, and floored the accelerator.
Whatever the speed limit was, he was going over it.
At
the event that night Ámbar commented on its lavish nature while
Francisco noted that Catalina never did things by half measure.
When
Catalina made her entrance with Carlos and Alejandro, she ate up the
attention of the guests and the press, who all went in for photos.
She wore a strapless white dress and comparatively modest jewelry.
When the first microphone was presented Carlos told us that she would
answer all our questions. Francisco took Carlos aside to point out
that he should not be smoking and he ask why Oscar was there; Carlos
assured him “You will have a brother for many years yet.”
Ámbar
came to collect him as Catalina answered a few innocuous questions.
I spotted one of my competitors, Luís Guzmán, calling his
photographer partner to get some photos right away.
She ran as fast
as she could, but bumped into Alejandro on the way. (Our early
photos were on their way to Vanidades before she could take
her first.) She had not realized that Alejandro was Catalina's son
and froze in place when he released her and she heard him address
Catalina as “Mama.” Someone asked about a recent shipment of
diamonds she talked about how their top designers were eager to work
with them.
Someone
else asked “Are you satisfied with Gothier Jewels? Do you miss
your days as a model?”
“I
love your question, but no; my chapter as a model is over.”
“Good
evening. Luis Guzmán of The Capital Chronical. A few days
ago there was a rumor that Gothier Jewels is involved in illegal
trafficking of diamonds. What have you to say with respect to that?”
Carlos
became angry, Alejandro stepped in, and Catalina told him he didn't
need to.
“It
hurts me that you asked this question, Sir. No serious journalist
gives creedence to rumor. Let's end this right now.”
Two security
men seized Guzmán from behind, but Catalina stopped them. “No,
no. Anyone can make a mistake. Rookies usually learn from them.”
The
security men backed off. Catalina said “If there are no more
questions, enjoy the party and the show.”
Leonora
Navarro (Guzmán's photographer) asked what this was all about. He
gestured vaguely toaward his cell phone screen.
José
Carlos finally got his father on the phone, but Carlos was not in the
mood to deal with him, suggesting that he call the next day. He
reproached him for leaving the clinic and let him know he was not
sending him any money, as he had been screwing up rather than getting
his life in order. José Carlos was not accepting this, especially
after hearing Alejandro's voice nearby. He accused his father of
favoritism, then said that he missed him. “Do you miss me?” he
asked.
Carlos
did not answer, merely saying goodbye then ending the call.
The
fashion show began, featuring an array of models all in strapless
black gowns and in coiffures designed to show off the latest designs
from Gothier Jewels.
Leonora Navarro went to work capturing every
image possible as the action was displayed on screens visible to all
the guests.
She might have preferrred to be in Panama City to
capture José Carlos' entrance into the casino and taking his place
at the roulette table.
Catalina
reproached Francisco. “I told you that only the usual people; no
new reporters were to be invited. Only the ones we know.”
“He
had credentials.”
“Deal
with him.” She saw that Diego Solórzano approached her, holding a
black velvet box. She sent Francisco to do what she expected of him.
Solórzano opened the box to reveal a smooth, very beautiful rock
which must have been at least eighty carats in weight. Catalina
picked it up saying “It's perfect.” It was likely one of the few
things that brought a genuine smile from her, albeit a subtle one.
Leonora
took a break to enjoy a shot or two of mezcal. Alejandro approached
her and ordered the same. They began talking and she apologized for
mentioning his brother's addiction. He didn't mind, saying that the
press was very aggressive on such things and he understood and bore
no ill will about it. He – perhaps jokingly – promised her an
exclusive. She told him she was not a journalist, but a
photographer. He asked for her phone so he could enter his number
into it. Guzmán then arrived to collect her, giving a look of mild
contempt in Alejandro's direction as they left.
Osvaldo
and Carlos talked again about the latter's medical condition as
Alejandro arrived to check on his father. Osvaldo told him to take
care of him and father and son shared a humorous comment on the
matter. They embraced briefly and Carlos' phone rang. Alejandro
left him to answer in private.
The
anonymous caller told Carlos that Alejandro was not his son and asked
if he wanted proof.
Carlos told him to go to hell and ended the call
just as Francisco approached to tell him that Catalina was angry
about what happened with the reporter. She wanted to talk to him
about it.
Alejandro
was ending a call on a romantic note when Ámbar sat next to him.
She assumed that he had been talking to Mora, a long-distance
girlfriend who lived in Madrid. He said that they needed their
spaces for a while but all was well. He sensed something was not
quite right with his aunt. She denied this, but took a pill as soon
as he got up and left.
Leonora
and Guzmán left the party. He commented that he wasn't used to
covering society stuff; he then took a call from Rafael, his boss.
Catalina
and Carlos talked about Guzmán's question. She was peevish, as
though she had never heard such questions and should have been immune
from them as the owner of such an important company, the Harry
Winston of Mexico. Carlos told her to calm down. He told her she
was the most beautiful woman he ever knew and suggested that they
leave the party.
She was reluctant, as most of the guests were still
there, but finally agreed.
Luis
returned to Leonora and told her he had been terminated from the
paper. He suspected that Catalina was behind it by calling their
boss and accusing him of being aggressive. He was sure she had
something to hide. Leonora suggested talking to Alejandro, but Luis
didn't think this was a good idea. She told him they were a team and
they would find a way to solve this. They said their goodnights.
Carlos
and Catalina went to the yacht. She had exchanged her white dress
for a black jumpsuit, an elegant one for a woman certain to become
Mexico's newest black widow. She pretended to still be in love with
her husband.
She kissed him and stepped away as his cell rang.
He
was slightly irritated when she heard him say “I said we would talk
tomorrow.” She looked out over the water. Carlos' phone rang
again. He dismissed the call when he saw it was José Carlos. It
rang again and he answered it without looking.
“José
Carlos, I told you it would be better to talk tomorrow.”
“No,
I'm not your son. I'm your friend who wants to open your eyes.
Don't hang up; listen to me. Alejandro is not your son. Right now I
will send you photos to prove it.”
Carlos
ended the call just as his phone signaled another message.
He looked
and saw multiple damning photos of Catalina with Francisco. He
turned around and saw Catalina about to pour champagne. He got up
and joined her on the rear deck. He took the proferred glass
carefully.
Leonora
sat up in her hotel room. Unable to sleep she called Alejandro, who
had just returned from the party. Mortified with embarrassment she
asked his help in getting Luis reinstated.
He agreed with no
argument and ended the call, barely giving her room to thank him.
It was an all-or-nothing move on her part.
So
was the bet José Carlos placed on the roulette game. A woman flirted
with him as he put all his chips on a single number.
He stared back
at her as the ball went around in the opposite direction of the spin,
finally to land on his bet.
The other players cheered and he did not
go back to his room alone.
Alejandro
exchanged text messages at that same moment with Mora from his room
in Mexico City.
He had no idea she was anywhere other than Madrid
and thus was shocked when she entered his bedroom.
“Mora,
why are you here?” he asked.
“I'm
crazy, and I didn't want to be without you.”
She
kissed and embraced him, perhaps hoping for a bigger welcome. When
he broke the embrace she knew she wasn't getting it.
“What's
wrong?”
“What
are you talking about?”
“This
is very weird.”
“No;
everything is alright.”
“Don't
talk to me like I'm stupid.”
“You
took me by surprise.”
“I
don't like that you don't like that I've come here.”
“No;
I'm very pleased you're here.”
“Then
who is this in your bathroom?”
She
charged past him and flung the bathroom door open. Miguel Terranova
Contreras was stark naked under the running water.
She looked back
at Alejandro and accused him of lying. She felt betrayed.
She
immediately aimed her smartphone at Miguel and began taking photos.
Alejandro tried to get it out of her hand but she would not allow him
to. She yelled “The whole world will know you are gay!”
He
tried to grab the phone but she would not let him. She twisted her
arm free. Miguel restrained Alejandro, telling him to stop.
Mora
ran, saying that she was going to send the photos to his parents. He
followed her halfway down the stairs, but stopped running as she ran
out the door. He looked back to see Miguel not far behind him.
While
this was happening José Carlos was celebrating his big win with a
different kind of score, telling the flirtatious woman that she had
brought him luck.
On
board the yacht, Catalina watched Carlos pour himself another glass
of champagne and down it completely.
“You
are drinking too much.”
“And
what's the problem? I'm doing as I said. Enjoying this. You and
me.”
“The
problem is that you are drinking. You had a preview of a heart
attack this morning.”
“Why
is that so important? Is it that important to you if I die of a
heart attack?”
“What's
happened to you?”
“What
about you?” He sat next to her. “That you are consorting with my
brother?”
“What
are you talking about?”
“Do
you really not know what I'm talking about?”
“You're
drunk. I'm going to sleep. I don't want the night to end like
this.” She started to get up. He grabbed her arm and did the
same, turning her around to face him.
“Of
course you know what I'm talking about.”
“It
makes me sick to see you drunk.”
“And
it makes me sick to see my wife consorting with my brother!”
“Stop
saying these stupid things.”
“This
is a stupid thing?” He showed her one of the photos on his phone.
Her
shocked expression was genuine for a moment.
Carlos then doubled
over in pain, clutching his left arm. Catalina reached for him but
he yelled not to touch him. He looked at her.
“How
many times have you fucked my brother? How many times have you been
with other men?”
“You
are completely insane,” she said, coldly.
“I
will leave you with nothing,” he said. “I will make sure you
will have no will to live.”
“You
are dying, Carlos,” she said. “Look at yourself. You're almost
finished.” She took two steps forward and crouched down to look
him in the eyes. “Francisco makes love to me like you were never
able to. I'll tell you a secret: I had to think about him to have
sex with you. To help the disgust I endured from your touch. I
endured it to have a son. Hasn't it occurred to you that Alejandro
doesn't look a thing like you? He's intelligent, and manly like his
father, Francisco.”
“I
will put you out in the street. I am changing my will.”
“You
won't be able to change your will...my love.”
He
clutched his arm again and tried to stand.
“My
pills. My pills!”
“Do
you want your pills?” she asked, sarcastically. “You want your
pills? Well, go get them!” She went to the first
aid kit and returned with the pill bottle. And threw it out into the
water.
She then grabbed his shirt front and threw him overboard.
For a few moments she watched him struggle in the water, then slowly
walked to the radio to call for help.
She walked away from the radio
to watch his struggle. The coast guard repeatedly tried to respond
with questions.
The
following morning José Carlos got up and walked out into the terrace
pool, bottle in hand. He drank just after dawn.
Miguel
and Alejandro started at each other across the breakfast table.
José
Carlos climbed out of the pool and looked down at the city.
He cried
out loud enough to be heard over the urban canyon below.
At
the funeral all were dressed in black.
“He
was the best father and the best husband until the last moment,”
Catalina said. “Carlos was the man of my life.”
She did not see
him, but José Carlos arrived late, also dressed in black. He looked
like a latter-day Biblical figure. “An unforgettable travel
companion.”
She then noticed the Prodigal Son. “My love. If I
am here on earth it was because you taught me, and did not force me.
Your point of view was the force that helped me advance. It will be
sad to remember you while I am on earth.”
She then looked at José
Carlos, who did not betray his own thoughts in any way.
Luis
Guzmán – who stood a discreet distance away – answered his cell
phone mid-ring.
“What
do you have, Orozco? Tell me.”
“I
have a bomb. A real revelation. I just read the autopsy report on
Carlos Larios. The report will be released on Monday, but brace
yourself. He had a head inury.”
“What's
so strange about that? He could have hit his head on the hull of the
yacht.”
“What's
strange is that if he drowned his lungs would be full of water.”
“So?
What are you saying?”
“His
lungs were empty. He was dead before he hit the water.”
“So
this was not an accident. He was murdered.”
Luis
looked back at the mourners. He was too far away to see that no
tears fell from the black widow's eye.
Labels: cuna
Permalink posted by Urban Anthropologist
@ 11:00 PM
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