Pieces

[Jay Carpenter]

Zacariás Amengual,

El Tiburón, The Shark

DFW

There was little fanfare at the border; Amengual crossed it often. He operated a number of legitimate businesses, after all and his tourism industry was growing like leeches on decayed wood. It was one of many reasons he flew into Dallas-Fort Worth International rather than that of his home country. There were partners to meet and operations to oversee. The Governor asked to meet with him again as they finalized arrangements between them: Ascendancy’s tasks loomed in the back of his mind. First and foremost, he had an errand to complete: one he eager to pursue. 

Ryker joined him at curbside, sunglasses pushed high on his face. He seemed to be bothered by the aroma of exhaust and the general filth of the sidewalk judging by the sweep of his gaze and scowl on his face. The sunglasses, however, were ridiculous. “Those do not hide your scars. Do not pretend otherwise,” he said, plucking dark rims from the pocket of his own sport coat. Ryker glared but kept his tongue wisely to himself. Passengers glanced at them while the car pulled forward. A bastard whose face was buried in his wallet wheeled a suitcase close, brushing the white of his jacket. Skilled hands clamped down on the offender, pulling him from arm’s reach. Zacariás stepped around the scene to climb into the car. Ryker watched blandly, content to let others carry out the man-handling. He joined Zacariás in the car a moment later.

There was a smile on his face when he emerged 45 minutes later. Nobody impeded his path to the front door. Wide gates walled off the outside world. Within, he was king. Ryker and others followed at a respectful distance. The smile held steady as he wound through the large home, dropping his sport coat on a bar stool and undoing the top few buttons of his shirt as he spied the targets in the back yard.

Splashes of a pool party filled the air. It took a moment before they realized he was there.
“Papá!” A girl yelled. Immediately afterward, his soaking wet daughter slammed into him, hugging him tightly.

He cupped her chin, tilting her tanned face into the sun. “You are bigger. My daughter is growing into a beautiful woman.” He looked up, “Speaking of beautiful women,” he said as his arm slithered around the bare waist of his wife. He peered down into her doleful eyes, cupping her hip with the palm of his hand, “lovely bikini,” he whispered just as he drew her body close. Their embrace was long overdue.