Victoria

My heart flutters at the sound of tires screeching below us as we touch down on the runway in Cali. I was a senior in college the last time I was here for summer vacation, before starting law school. My father hasn’t stepped foot in the country since my mother died, so it was always a solo trip for me. I make a mental note to bring flowers to her grave if I get a chance before we leave. It’s the least I can do for her.

“Are you okay?” Devon asks, placing his hand on mine.

“Yeah, but I think my tear dam is still broken from yesterday, and there are still more in there,” I reply, wiping tears from my face for the fourth time in less than twenty-four hours.

“It’s okay. I hear that having emotions is a good thing.” He pats my hand and looks at me with a solemn look of understanding.

“So far, I don’t like it one bit.” I pull out a tissue and wipe the remaining tears away while trying to avoid messing up my mascara. “I don’t want to look like a fucking raccoon when I meet my grandparents.” I force a laugh, trying to ease the tension within me, but I know that seeing them for the first time in five years is going to be emotional for both of us. They were obviously shocked this morning when I called them out of the blue. They were even more surprised to hear that I would be landing within a few hours. They immediately offered to pick us up at the airport, however, which is good. I remember having to take a long, winding road through the forest to the plantation south of the city. I would have no clue how to find it.

Stepping out of the plane, I immediately remember why I quit coming here in the summer. I can feel the sweat trickling from my pores by the time I reach the bottom of the stairs and step onto the scorching tarmac. “That must be them,” I tell Devon as an ominous-looking black Suburban heads toward us. “Here, let me carry one of the bags,” I add after noticing that he resembles a pack mule.

“Did you leave anything at my place?” He laughs, setting down all of the bags.

“Hey, it’s hard to know what to pack,” I reply, giving him the evil eye.

“It’s ninety degrees and ninety percent humidity. You don’t actually need any clothes, just an air conditioner.” He wipes the sweat from his brow and waits for the SUV to come to a stop. “These guys look badass.”

Yes, they do. Immediately upon coming to a rest, three guys resembling secret service agents spring from the vehicle wielding what look to be AK-47s. “Welcome to Colombia,” I joke, wiggling my eyebrows. My grandfather is one of the most powerful men in the country, and it seems that he’s grown a little more protective with age. Only after one of the men yells back to him that everything is secure does he exit the vehicle, accompanied by my grandmother. She looks incredibly frail compared to the last time I saw her. He takes her by the hand and I meet them halfway. “Grandma,” I greet her, holding out my arms. As we hug, I can feel that she is nothing but skin and bones. She can’t weigh more than a hundred pounds.

“You have grown into a beautiful young woman,” she says upon pulling back, looking me over from head to toe.

“Just like your mother,” Grandpa adds, moving in to give me a hug as well. “You look good.”

“Thanks. You guys look great too,” I reply, still a bit stunned by how sickly my grandmother looks. “This is Devon DeLuca.” I turn back toward him to make the introduction. “Devon, these are my grandparents, Antonio and Valeria.”

“Ah, another Italian.” Grandfather sighs. “You really are just like your mother.”

“His family came from Italy, not Sicily,” I inform him, not wanting them to judge him based on the experiences they have had with my father. “His grandfather was famous back in Detroit.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Grandpa says graciously, reaching out to shake his hand. “We’ll have plenty of time to get to know one another, but let’s get off the tarmac. Open spaces like this always make me nervous.”

“A couple of overzealous DEA agents opened fire on him right over there,” Grandma says dryly, pointing to the next gate. “Of course, things have settled down quite a bit in the last twenty-five years.” She gives him a crossways glance as if it’s an old, tired story.

“You can’t be too cautious in this business,” he counters. “How many old people do you know in my line of work?” He glares at her, obviously annoyed.

“We’re ready to go,” Devon says, picking up the bags and heading toward the vehicle. All three security agents continue to face outward at full attention while we load our luggage in the back and take our seats in the back row.

After everyone is settled in, the agents do one more sweep around the vehicle before joining us. “Everything is secure,” the lead agent assures Grandpa after taking the front passenger seat. The driver takes a full sweep of the windows and mirrors before turning the wheel and starting toward the airport exit.

“You have an impressive security team,” Devon tells Grandpa.

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet,” Grandma immediately replies with a hearty laugh. “He spends more money on his army than anything else.” She shakes her head and continues laughing to herself.

“She thinks it’s funny.” Grandpa turns in his seat to face Devon and me. “But there’s a reason we are the largest and oldest production facility in this country. We haven’t had any problems since the Gaviria administration.”

“Maybe it’s because you’ve bought every election ever since,” Grandma counters. “He hasn’t lost an election since 1990,” she adds, jabbing him in the side.

“Politics has been a lucrative hobby.” Grandpa nods, cracking a smirk. “A man has to have hobbies, right, Devon?” He stares directly at him, waiting for an answer.

“Yes, hobbies are important,” he agrees. “I’ve been mainly involved with local politicians, but we’re hoping to broaden our horizons in the coming months. I’m also interested in learning to golf.” He curls his lip just slightly as if he’s wondering if Grandpa will pick up on his humor.

“Golf. Now there’s a productive pastime.” Grandpa shakes his head and turns back toward the front of the vehicle. After several seconds, he looks back over his shoulder. “You’re joking, right?”

“Yes.” Devon pats him on the shoulder. “I would never have the patience for golf.”

A sense of relief passes through me as I see how the two men are getting along. Devon may not realize it now, but a good relationship with him is crucial to our success. Especially since my father is being such a prick. Judging from the outward appearance, I suspect that Grandpa still has significant ownership in the operation. Hopefully, he can do something for us.

As the trees begin to thicken, my mind wanders back to being here with my mother as a young girl. Once school got out for the summer, we would always come down here for the month of June. Every day was the same, ninety degrees with humidity that made if feel even hotter. The swimming pool was my go-to spot, but it wasn’t much fun without any friends to swim with. Mom would play with me until she got tired, then I would cook with Grandma while she took her afternoon nap. When it rained, I would go outside in my swimsuit and enjoy the coolness of it. The swimming pool was like bath water, so the cool rain was always a treat. Even though it’s good to see my grandparents again, it makes me think about my mother and the hole she left behind.

Devon

Antonio looks exactly how I pictured him. Five foot ten and a lean build, with salt-and-pepper hair neatly slicked back. He’s dressed in a black suit with a blue and white pinstriped shirt, just like a regular businessman. He exudes wisdom and control the same way Papa Joe did. I think back to the time I spent with him at his mansion in Detroit. Many of the lessons that I carry with me to this day were learned back then. My father was always busy and rarely home, so I spent many afternoons with him and would occasionally stay overnight in one of the many upstairs bedrooms. I remember the eerie sounds that used to echo through the hallways of that house. It was sort of traumatic for a young boy who was away from home. I never dared express my fears to him, so my grandmother was always the one who tucked me in at night. She would always leave a nightlight on for me and assured me that she was right down the hall if I ever got scared. I have often thought about whether my dad would make a good grandfather. He definitely wasn’t there for me, but now that he’s getting close to retirement, maybe he would take the time. I’m sure my grandfather wasn’t around much while his children were growing up either. Things had to have been a little crazy back in the prohibition days.

“Have you ever heard of Papa Joe from Detroit?” I ask, curious as to how widely he was known. “He was big in the Detroit Partnership following prohibition.”

“Old Papa Joe.” Antonio nods with a subdued smile. “That was the heyday for those boys. They don’t make ‘em like that anymore. Everyone has gotten soft, trying to run things without stepping on any toes. It’s not possible. Old Joe knew how to run things.”

“With an iron fist,” I add. “That’s how I like to do things. You can always lighten up down the road, but you have to make a good first impression.”

“The moment you lighten up, you’re washed up,” the old man replies with a scowl. “At the first sign of weakness, someone younger will clean your clock. You’ve got to stay tough to stay alive in this business.”

“Good point.” I agree. “That’s probably why Papa walked away when he did. He knew that he didn’t have the bite anymore. That’s probably why I loved him so much, since I only knew his softer side.”

“We all have to pretend not to be animals when the grandkids are around.” He looks over at Victoria. “Right, sweetheart?”

“Right, Grandpa,” she replies sweetly. “I don’t ever remember you raising your voice around me. I actually thought you were a farmer when I was young.” She smiles and shakes her head.

“I am a farmer,” he tells her before turning back toward the front of the vehicle. “A damn wealthy farmer at that.” As we continue to wind down the tree-lined road, the lead security agent continues to radio ahead at each security checkpoint, letting them know that we’re about to pass. “There is only one way in and one way out,” he adds, glancing back at me. “That tends to keep traffic to a minimum.”

“Yeah, I imagine it would be rather difficult to get past those checkpoints if you weren’t invited,” I speculate. “They look to be pretty well-armed.”

“If you take this road without an invitation, you’d better be riding in an M1 tank or you’re going to have a pretty difficult day,” he replies with a deadpan look. “No one has even tried in the past few years.”

I honestly can’t imagine anyone thinking they could sneak onto this property. We’ve already gone about ten miles on this winding old gravel road, and I have yet to see a coca plant. “How much farther is it?”

“Only about five miles. Our first fields are about two miles up the road. They’ll be on your left.” He continues to scan the horizon as if he is the backup security team. “We’ve got a good crop at the moment. The weather has been perfect.”

“Hot and humid?” Victoria asks with a giggle.

“Hot and humid,” her grandmother mutters, turning back to look at us. “What’s it like to curl your hair and have it last all day?” She gives Victoria a tired smile. It’s obvious that she doesn’t feel well. It’s probably a good thing that Victoria and I came down here so she has a chance to see her again. I think of my own grandmother, whom I haven’t seen seen since Papa Joe passed. I should really spend a few days in Michigan before fall comes. It would be good to see Mom and Dad too. Even though I’m sure to get the same lecture as last time. Maybe I’ll wait until things are running a little more smoothly.

“There is the cash crop,” Antonio says with a look of pride. “Better than any goddamn money tree, if you ask me.”

“It’s definitely easier to grow,” I reply, looking at lush green plants for as far as we can see. “How much coke is produced here anyway?”

“As much as Victor needs,” he replies with a wry smile. “We are actually producing more than he can handle right now.”

“Maybe we’ll be able to help you out with that,” I reply, hoping for some sign that he will work with us.

“We’ll talk business in due time,” he replies sternly. He then turns forward in silence.

“He’s always been so secretive,” Valeria adds. “He’s always concerned about wire taps and those types of things.”

“Secrecy is one reason I’m still in business, while most of my competitors are dead or in U.S. prisons,” he seethes without taking his eyes off the road ahead.

“I agree. I don’t tell anyone anything unless they are directly affected.” I turn back toward the side window and become mesmerized by row after row of coca plants. I can’t even fathom the money that is generated by what I’m seeing. It has to be in the billions of dollars. My heartbeat quickens at the thought of being part of it. If we can negotiate a deal that just supplies Devon City, I will have wealth beyond my wildest dreams.

I slip my hand into Victoria’s lap and give her thigh a squeeze. She glances over and gives me that sexy look of hers. I’m suddenly wishing that we would’ve had sex this morning before we left. Who knows if we’ll get a chance to be alone down here. Maybe we can sneak off later and have sex among the coca plants. That would be a lasting memory.