The Lord of Opium(14)

“You almost had it right,” said the jefe, grinning. “You don’t say ‘please’ to me, either.”

“It seems that being a patrón means being rude to everyone,” said Matt.

“Pretty much,” Cienfuegos admitted.

“One thing more. I want to change Waitress’s name to Mirasol. Is that possible?”

“Of course. I’ll give her a retraining session tomorrow.” The jefe bowed and took his leave. Matt was left to watch Mirasol at the window.

“Come here,” he commanded. He filled a plate with lamb and mint sauce, asparagus, and half a baked potato, as much as he thought healthy for her. “Now eat,” he said.

And Mirasol ate ravenously. She acted as though she were starving. The pellets that made up the eejits’ diet were running out, so perhaps she was starving.

After she had finished, Matt got her one of the custards from the serving table at the side of the room. It was creamy on the inside and brown with caramelized sugar outside. To his amazement, she stopped eating after the first bite. She sat as though stunned, with the spoon in her mouth, and he was afraid he’d made her sick. But then she began to eat again, slowly, keeping the custard on her tongue for a long time. She had to be tasting it! She had to be!

“I’ll make it up to you,” Matt said softly, watching her. “There has to be a way to find all those grains of sand on the beach.”





7





MAJOR BELTRÁN




Matt woke up feeling elated. He wasn’t confused as he’d been in the morning. He knew he was in El Patrón’s bedroom, but the mattress was new and the windows were open, letting out the odors of old age. Today he would have the servants take up the musty carpets and change the curtains. The tapestries would be stored and the walls scrubbed.

I can do anything I want, thought Matt, stretching out on the clean, fresh sheets. It seemed incredible that he’d been here only two nights. The first he’d slept on the ground at the oasis; the second had been spent here in the lair of the old man. But I can make it my own, the boy thought happily. He sprang up, eager to explore his new empire.

In the old days he hid in shadows, avoiding the cruel remarks from people who thought him lower than a beast. He’d learned to move like a shadow, eavesdropping and trying to make sense of the world around him. Now he had come into the light.

Today he would contact María. She would come to him, and he would show her how everyone obeyed him and how they need never hide their love again. They would be together always and perhaps become prometido, engaged to be married.

Matt halted. What, exactly, was marriage for? María said it was important, but he hadn’t paid attention to her reasons. Why would he? At the time he’d been a clone, and they didn’t get married. He knew that Felicia had been handed over to Mr. Alacrán as part of a drug deal. Fani had refused to marry Mr. Alacrán’s son until her father drugged her. María had been promised to Felicia’s son Tom. It didn’t matter that Tom’s idea of a good time was to nail frogs’ feet to the ground.

Nothing about the Alacráns made marriage even slightly attractive.

Before the wedding there was something called dating, for which you needed a girlfriend. Matt had a vague idea of the practice from watching TV, but nothing of the sort existed in Opium. For most of his life he’d had only one friend, who happened to be a girl. Did that qualify? As for having more than one, it hadn’t occurred to him until he met the boys at the plankton factory.

Chacho and Ton-Ton bragged about all the pretty chicas they knew. There weren’t any chicas at the plankton factory, but the boys assured Matt that they’d been muy popular back in their old homes. Girls, according to them, were the most fun you could have. Especially when they were competing with one another to make you happy. Ton-Ton swore he had at least five following him around.

Matt wondered how Ton-Ton managed this, because he had a face that looked like it had been slammed into a wall. He didn’t dare ask. Nor could he ask Chacho why girls were lining up to take him to parties. He didn’t want them to know how ignorant he was. When it came time for him to describe his own adventures, he stole stories from TV shows. He had to be careful, because the only shows El Patrón had allowed were a hundred years old.

One thing had stuck in Matt’s mind, though: Ton-Ton said that good girls were always chaperoned. Matt wasn’t sure what a bad girl was, but María was definitely good. If he invited her, Esperanza would insist on coming along.

Esperanza. Some of the contentment leaked out of the day.