Page 78 of No Sweeter Poison

Sergio peels away from the wall and begins to hand out the files prepared for this evening; each leather folder is embossed with the family’s name. Regina flips through hers diligently, eyes scanning the pages in front of her with intent.

“Territory divisions will remain unchanged and are nonnegotiable. Any enterprises already distributed and signed over will remain with the families to whom they’ve been assigned. All others, at any stage of negotiation, were null and void as of noon today. Your lawyers will have copies first thing tomorrow morning. As for the function of—”

“What is this?” Regina looks up.

“A file, Regina, try to keep up.”

She doesn’t take the bait. “You’ve spent the last five years trying to legitimize your family and now you’re backing out?”

“Don Alejandro.” Don Mauricio Villamizar clears his throat and removes his glasses. “I thought we had all come to an agreement?”

“What agreement? Because from my understanding, no one thus far, has been satisfied with the plans I put forth.” I remove a cigar from the gold case in my breast pocket. Tap both ends. “You’re all at each other’s throats. The Falcons didn’t want to share a border with the Arroyos, the De La Vegas felt their territory needed to expand, the Sevillas didn’t want the added responsibility of more territory but were also opposed to anyone else taking over the part of the city that touched their borders, gentlemen—” I strike a match and lit the end of the cigar. It catches fire after a few inhales. “Be reasonable.”

No one appreciates my sudden burst of candor and putting their business on display for the other twelve families to hear. In this moment, I have little regard and consideration for the people at this table. All I can think about is Dahlia and the tremor in her hand as she held that knife, her fingers wrapped so tightly around the handle that they were bruised when she finally let go.

“Let’s all be frank.” My eyes travel across the room in search of any protest. I find none. “Not a single one of you agreed with legitimization to begin with. It threw off decades’ worth of power balance in this city. So I’ve decided to put a stop to it while I still can. Now, there’s no need to make outside alliances or fight from within. Everything will remain as it always was.”

“And what if some of us weren’t satisfied with the way things were?”

Everyone turns their attention to Don Miguel Lopez at the other end of the table.

He gestures vaguely with the glass of rum in his right hand. “Perhaps some of us feel expansion is within our right.”

Don Miguel had the most to gain from this. The seaside territory he was set to inherit was worth tens of millions, not to mention access to the southern ports. Everyone knows that’s where Abuelo conducts his more clandestine shipping, as Galicia is too overpopulated with drug smugglers.

I take a long drag of the cigar between my lips. Wait until the smoke clears from my exhalation before leaning over the table, elbows resting on the wooden edge.

“Does anyone else here feel the same as Don Miguel?”

Not a question but a threat. It’s why the room is so quiet that when someone catches their breath a little too quickly, it sounds like a bomb going off.

The other dons at the table avert their gazes, some lighting cigars, others downing their drinks, while some flip through the files given to them. I’ve known these men my entire life—some have known me since before I was born. They range in age from my grandfather’s generation, the old timers who are dwindling in numbers, all the way to the youngest among us like myself and Regina. Some of them will remain loyal during this transition back to normalcy, few will remain neutral, waiting to see where the cards fall.

And the rest will betray me.

It’s merely a matter of figuring out who it’ll be.

Diego meets my gaze from across the room. We’ve accomplished what we set out to do. This meeting is over.

I rise from my seat and the room takes this as their dismissal. I’d promised a brief, albeit important, in-person encounter and I’ll keep to my word.

Don Alfonso gestures for his men to open the door. Once the tomb is unsealed all matters of business will cease immediately so I put out my cigar on the ash tray and address the room.

“Gentlemen.”

Chairs scrape against the floor, pages shift, glass tumblers hit the tabletop. The room comes to a screeching halt.

“Three months ago, someone in this room made an attempt on my life. And three weeks ago tonight, they did so a second time.” I set aside the rum I never finished. The glass makes a screeching sound as I push it to the edge of the table. “For the sake of peace, I’m willing to overlook this, even as a dear friend of mine is at home, recovering from a bullet intended for me. But I’d like to make one thing very clear.”

The glass reaches the very edge of the table and tumbles back and forth, teetering on the corner.

“If ever a hand is raised against me again, one of you in this room will answer for it. Understood?”

No one answers.

With a mere flick of the finger, the glass topples over the edge of the table. It shatters in a million tiny pieces, shards of glass drowning in a sea of amber liquid.

“Don’t make me ask again.”