Mimi's Demons

Chapter 70: One Man's Treasure is Another Man's Unasked for Responsibility

 Duke dropped the plastic bags of Taco Bell on the table, not even bothering to see Garcia's response. It was the epitome of rude to not even greet the man let alone dropping fast food so ungracefully in front of him, but Duke's mood was at the same level as a poisonous bog. He had so little fucks to give it was a surprise he hadn't just killed the man and started a war then and there.

Garcia must have sensed this, for he had the intelligence to say nothing, though the corners of his mouth tightened beneath his black mustache.

"Buen provecho." Duke waved at the Taco Bell bag.

Garcia's mustache twitched and the hands he had held together atop the polished conference table clenched. The two muscled goons behind him shifted, frowning.

Duke took minute, dark pleasure in their discomfort as he threw himself into the opposing chair. Close behind him followed Omen and Cromwell, tailed by the hunched, baggy black figure of their resident demon, who quickly took up position in the corner of the room by a potted plant rather than take a seat at the table like Omen and Cromwell.

Garcia eyed the boy with furrowed brows.

"You brought a child?" he said.

"You didn't hear from your middle man?" Duke snorted. "Figures."

"Good sir, if this meeting is just to insult me, you've done well enough already demanding I be here within a day. No one," the man's black eyes narrowed. "Orders me around."

Duke rolled his eyes. He was not up to a dick measuring contest, and usually men of their standing were past that. It was common sense to get a read on your enemy or friend before facing them so this sort of thing didn't occur, and it was making Duke wish he could drag the elder Garcia out of retirement. No wonder their middle men were out of control.

For the few seconds in which he glared Garcia down, he wondered if he was up to running the cartel himself. A head this weak and the whole organization would topple like dominos. But then he thought of Mimi and the idea of even more work just exhausted him. He didn't even like speaking Spanish, even though he could. All the latin languages annoyed him. Too bad the German syndicate was a pale, frightened shadow of what it had been before the second world war. Nothing like a crazy tyrant building a few concentration camps to get the world's attention, seriously. They should have known better. You do that kind of shit underground and outsourced to other countries.

Garcia shifted in his chair. Duke figured he could manage one pissing contest.

"How's Mexico?"

Garcia blinked, failing to hide that he was thrown off. "What aspect?"

"How are the international treaties? Gross income for exports? Standing in NATO? Newlines?" Duke rubbed that spot on his chin that always grew whiskers first. "What's the name of the president again? I can't recall."

Garcia's expression darkened.

"I am not Mexico," he said lowly.

"Then what are you, Garcia? Because I'm the United States of America, I'm China, I'm the United Kingdom, I'm Germany, I'm Spain, I'm...well, I could go on, but then we'd be here all day. If I decided I'd rather not deal with the cartel, guess what?" He leaned forward for affect, getting a whiff of cheap tacos from the still untouched bag. "You'll be Mexico and only Mexico, and that's a very small, very poor part of the world."

Garcia held very still, his face having gone blank.

The demon in the corner shuffled his feet, not quite looking back at them, but it was enough to make Duke smile.

"And this poor, little Mexico didn't keep track of one of its toes in my very own home, my casa, if you would, and thought, hey, I'm going to chop off the right paw of this sleeping bear, just for giggles. It failed, of course, it was just a toe, but when the bear turned on the rest of the body, still bleeding mind you, the body just shrugged and handed the bear a dead fish."

"What...would you suppose one would do to calm an angry bear?" asked Garcia, his tone impressively casual. Duke would have applauded if he was feeling any more irritated.

"You tell me, Garcia. That's where we are now." Duke leaned back with a squeak of leather. Besides him, Omen and Cromwell had yet to move or react, watching Garcia with the same cool, unaffected air as Duke. He could have involved the other regional heads, those who worked underneath him to oversee their respective areas or specialties, but time was money and this was really just between him and Garcia. Garcia seemed to have had the same thought if he only brought his bodyguards with him. He probably didn't even have that many under him considering once more that, well, it was Mexico. Dry, poor, tortilla making Mexico.

When the silence stretched longer than could be considered comfortable, if anything about this situation were comfortable, Duke nodded to Cromwell and Cromwell nudged the bag of cheap Taco Bell towards Garcia.

"Tacos?" asked Cromwell.

Garcia's eyes popped on Cromwell, his mustache bristling as he took in a deep, slow breath.

"I suppose this is the arm?" he said.

"There's this thing called photographs," said Duke, once more unimpressed with Garcia's forethought. Honestly, did he never do homework in school? Did he not go to school? God, he really hated idiots.

Mimi wasn't an idiot.

It was the wrong thing to think. Duke's patience thinned to a pinprick.

"I'm waiting," said Duke.

Garcia took another mustache ruffling, deep breath.

"I have a son," he said.

"I'm sure you have several," Duke tapped his nails hard against the table. "From a variety of women, collected like baseball cards."

His careful mask cracked and he got the pleasure of seeing Garcia swell.

"My youngest, the most intelligent, talented at everything he does and born from the love of my youth," he said. "He is my gem, closest to my heart." He paused, as was right for what he was about to say next. "I will give him to you."

"To do what?"

"Whatever you wish."

A sour heat curled in Duke's gut. "You prize your organization over said beloved son?"

"Many more lives are at stake than just my own." For the first time, Garcia looked hard into Duke's gaze, the look of a man about to place his ace. "And I hear you are a man who treasures children."

Duke tightened his nails on the table. It wasn't a lie. He kept child trafficking out of his sight, didn't hire children for any of his personal work above runners and spies, and hadn't kept Mimi a secret.

But just the thought of someone like Garcia using Mimi in this context...

Duke forced himself to relax. Many more, worse than Garcia, would try to use Mimi. Something worse than human, than even a demon, already was.

Even so, seeing Honrye turn his hooded head towards them eased something in Duke's heart. It wasn't just flesh and blood defending his Mimi. Even if she was scared of him now, surely she must know that in part. Surely she must know she was safe.

The memory of her terrified face melting away as she fainted flashed before his mind's eye.

...Maybe another minion might ease some of her fears; someone else who would follow her to the ends of the earth even if anything should happen to Duke. 

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Got a concubine. It's one of those vacuum robots. Got it googly eyes and a mustache and everything. My husband is chagrined.