Plata (4 page)

Chapter 10

By the end of the night, she was exhausted. Most of her tables had involved long conversations with very rich men.They told her she was beautiful so often she’d become inured to the compliment. She was grateful for her college studies thus far, as she found herself discussing world politics, history, sociology, film, and Latin American literature. At one table, she’d recited a poem by a 17
^th
century Mexican nun, which had so impressed an old media baron that he’d pulled her into his arms until the security guards intervened. By the end of the night, he was so tipsy that he told Madison he loved her, and slipped her eight hundred dollars.

Though she’d spent much of the time in conversation, Madison had done many table dances as well. The clients were all a little different: fat, trim, old, young, handsome, ugly. From an old man who couldn’t stop himself from nipping at her breasts with his mouth, to a boyish teenager who gently rocked back and forth, and had to sit on his hands. What she hadn’t expected was the effect it would have on her. She’d anticipated feeling an element of disgust, and occasionally she did. But what she didn’t expect was the way the night had left her tingling with desire.

She hadn’t felt a chemical attraction to another client after Pierre. But there was something surprisingly erotic about the prohibition on touching. Of course, under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t want any of these men to touch her. Some of them even repulsed her. Yet there was something about the intense desire that drove them all to grip the arms of their chairs when she danced that left Madison in a constant state of sensual suspension.

When the cab pulled up outside of Enzo’s home, Madison stepped out and blinked into the night. She was dressed once again in her street clothes, and felt a little more like herself again. Still, her head was dizzy from all the vodka, and her libido was on fire. Enzo’s canary cages were covered for the night, and the birds inside were silent. As she turned the key and pushed open the door, she heard voices coming from the living room. This wasn’t unusual. There were always people at Enzo’s house, and at all hours. It had become a kind of social salon for Cubans in Mexico’s entertainment industry. Madison had always loved this about Enzo’s. But tonight, all she wanted was to go to bed, pleasure herself, and fall asleep.

She hung her keys on the hook beside the door and shrugged out of her leather jacket. If she was quiet, she told herself, she could sneak up the stairs before anyone heard her. But just as she reached the third step, a deep voice called out behind her.

“Oh, no you don’t.”

She turned around, and was shocked to see Daniel, the actor. He looked breathtakingly beautiful, dressed in a tuxedo, a cup of tea in his hand.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

Daniel gave her his easy smile. “I just came to see my old friend Enzo.”

Madison stared at him in an exhausted daze. He was like a movie mirage. She didn’t know what to do. She was too tired to join Daniel and Enzo’s conversation in the living room. But she didn’t quite trust herself to be alone with him either.

“I hope you don’t mind. I’ve got to get some sleep.”

“Where have you been all this time?” he asked, stepping closer. “Enzo just said you were out with friends.”

Madison smiled to herself. She knew Enzo would never blow her cover. “Yeah,” she said. “That’s right.”

He cocked his head and regarded her carefully. “With all that makeup, you must’ve been clubbing.”

“I was,” she lied.

Daniel moved up the first step. “Okay, I confess. I only came to see Enzo because I knew you were staying with him.” He looked up at her hopefully. “I’ve been waiting for you for hours.”

It was surreal to think that a TV star had been waiting hours to see her. She shook her head, not sure what to say. He set the tea cup on a corner table.

“At least let me come up and chat with you for a while. Just for a few minutes. I promise. And then you can go to bed.”

She leaned against the railing and looked at Daniel. The tux was beautifully tailored, showing off his narrow waist and solid chest. He wasn’t brawny, but sinewy and strong. It didn’t look like there was an ounce of fat on him. She’d had a few boyfriends in the past, but no one who looked like Daniel.

“Come on.” He grabbed her hand and moved past her. “I’m not going to bite.”

He pulled her gently up the stairs and into the guest room, which he was clearly familiar with already. He closed the door and picked up the TV remote from the small desk where Madison’s passport and several American coins were scattered. He pressed the power button.

“Enzo is a great guy,” he said. “He’s introduced me to a lot of important people.”

Madison looked at the TV, where a Mexican game show was being rebroadcast for late night. A man was dressed in a chicken suit, and busty women were striking bawdy poses.

“TV here sucks,” she muttered.

Daniel put down the remote and looked at the spectacle on the screen. “Not all of it, I hope.”

She winced, remembering his soap opera. He didn’t know she’d recognized him as an actor, but now he looked at her carefully.

“You aren’t fooling,” he marveled. “You have no idea who I am.”

The faint musk of his cologne made Madison dizzy. She stared at his face, which was so pale and smooth, it looked as if he had no pores at all. Her legs wavered slightly, and she put a hand on his arm to steady herself. Daniel’s fingers went to her waist and gripped her confidently. His cologne was everywhere. Before she knew what she was doing, her arms were around his neck, and she was pushing him onto the bed. He lay back with a surprised grunt, pulling her body onto his. She could feel the bulge beneath her, and rocked gently against it. He let out a groan. His hands went to her breasts and he rubbed and squeezed them desperately, as if starved for it. She pressed hard against him. That was all it took. Ten hours worth of erotic suspension exploded and released inside her. It shook her whole body, as she arched her back and cried out.

Daniel became like a man possessed. He flipped her over and crawled on top. Then he pulled up her shirt and ripped down the bra, panting like a feeding beast. His tongue was everywhere at once, on her nipples, on the flesh of her breasts. She gripped his hair and moaned softly. Frantic, entirely lost in the heat of his senses, he fumbled with the button fly and ripped off her pants. With incredible agility, he produced a condom, tore open the wrapper, and slipped it on. Without even lowering his trousers, Daniel opened the buttons and plunged into her. He groaned into her neck, his hips bucking wildly. She felt a deep bud of pleasure swelling inside her again, rising, ready for more. As his breaths accelerated in her ear, she felt herself dissolving along with him. The intensity strangled the final cry in his throat, but his mouth opened wide, his eyes squeezed shut.

When it was over, they lay collapsed in separate heaps on the bed, catching their breath. Madison closed her eyes and felt the world spinning around her. The fatigue was like a crushing weight in her head. Without meaning to, she fell asleep.

When she awoke, the gray-blue light of dawn was peeking through the cracks in the drapes. She turned on the bedside table lamp and looked around. There was no sign of Daniel. It was as if he’d never been there at all. She wondered if she’d dreamt the whole encounter, until she pressed a finger against her pelvic bone and felt the tenderness.Something about the encounter left her with a profound feeling of loneliness. Tears welled in her eyes, as she battled back the usual, menacing sadness. She thought of her mother, and how much she’d done to make Madison’s life happy and safe. She so wanted to do the same for her mother. Then she thought of the Frenchman, and how much more gratifying it would’ve been to make love to him; how much more tender and sensual. Of course, she couldn’t know that, but she’d played it out in her head dozens of times since meeting him. She couldn’t stop thinking about him, and it was making her crazy. She turned off the light and pulled the pillow over her head.

She wasn’t here to fall in love with Frenchmen or have one-night stands with Cuban actors, she scolded herself. There should only be one thing on her mind from now on. Plata, plata, plata.

Chapter 11

After only a week at the club, Madison was already used to the routine. In fact, at times she struggled to remember what life was like outside that dimly lit, palatial room. She’d developed a policy of making herself eat lunch at the start of her workday, whether someone was buying it for her or not. And she would only drink two vodka tonics every hour, and then spend the next hour sipping club soda. She knew that if she didn’t take care of herself, she wouldn’t last long enough to reach her goal.

Madison had also gotten better at sensing which tables would pay her well, and which would be a waste of time. There was nothing worse than having spent two precious hours listening to the boasts of some blowhard, only to have him leave without giving her a dime. But most of the time her instincts were good. She wasted no energy on friendships or fun. All that mattered was money. But even at the rate she was going, it would take her at least three or four more months to make enough to save the restaurant. And by then it would be too late. There had to be a way to make more. And faster.

There were only two distractions from Madison’s obsession with money. One was a mysterious man who seemed to be at the club every day; a tall, brawny man who always wore sunglasses. No matter where Madison went in the club, he was always nearby, watching her from some solitary table in the shadows. Sometimes at the end of the night, when a security guard escorted her to one of the club’s official taxis, Madison would catch sight of him lingering in some dark doorway of the pedestrian mall, watching her. She’d become cagey and paranoid; always looking over her shoulder. But not once had the man approached her.

The other distraction was far less menacing, but just as consuming. Every few days, a waiter would pass along an anonymous delivery that had arrived for her wrapped in simple paper. It was always a book. She’d received a collection of essays by Carlos Fuentes, a novel by a French writer she’d never heard of, three collections of poetry, and a beautiful, first edition copy of a novel by Zelda Fitzgerald.

Even though a note never accompanied them, Madison knew they were from Pierre. She was overwhelmed by the romantic gesture, and was constantly trying to catch sight of him handing off the gifts to the waiters. She even spent her days off browsing the bookstore and drinking coffee at El Pendulo, in the hopes of seeing him again. And even though she never did, her obsession continued to grow.

One afternoon, Simon approached Madison just as she’d stepped off the upstairs stage. He’d been pleased with her since that rocky first day, and had taken to introducing her to some of his highest profile clients, especially the intellectual ones. This time, he gently took her arm and led her to a group of men gathered around a collection of chairs and sofas in the lounge. He told her that one of the men had seen her dance and wanted to meet her. As they walked, he leaned in close.

“They’ve got the briefcase with them tonight,” he whispered. “If it goes well, I hope you’ll remember my part in this introduction.”

Madison nodded, though she didn’t understand. The group consisted of about nine or ten men, most of them dressed in jeans and cowboy shirts, in clear violation of the dress code. But rather than chastising them, the club’s staff raced around trying to keep them happy. The oldest was a dark-skinned guy in a dress shirt and sports coat, who spent a lot of time talking on his cell phone. He was sipping from a glass of whiskey on the rocks. The rest of them drank beer straight from the bottle.

Simon escorted Madison to where a jittery young man was sitting in an armchair. He had a round face, a stubbly beard, and nervous, darting eyes.

“This is Arizona,” Simon declared proudly. “Fresh from the United States.”

“Ramon,” the man said gruffly, standing up to kiss her cheek. “Sit down.”

He gestured to an empty place on the sofa next to his chair. He asked what she was drinking, and impatiently flagged down a waiter, who bustled over frantically. She ordered the usual without thinking about it. When the waiter had gone, Ramon leaned close to Madison with an earnest expression.

“If you want to eat,” he said in a voice so low she could barely hear it over the music, “more to drink, or if you want someone to run to the shopping mall to buy you a fucking Louis Vuitton bag, I want you to let me know.” He clasped his hands together and flicked his eyes back and forth over the scene in the lounge. “I’m serious. I will buy you whatever you want.”

Madison stared at him in amazement. She felt the thrill of success shoot through her. If she played her cards right, she thought, this could be a very lucrative table.

“Thank you.”She gave Ramon a demure smile.

For a while, he said nothing at all. But he fidgeted constantly, his knee jiggling like a broken washing machine.

“So what state are you from?” he asked at last. “I go to the U.S. a lot.”

“Colorado.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said with a quick nod.

“So, what do you do, Ramon?” she asked, genuinely curious. He was sitting in Mexico’s most exclusive club dressed in a rodeo shirt and boots, and he couldn’t have been older than 24 years old.

He leaned forward, his eyes looking everywhere but at her. “I’m in the import-export business.”

“Oh,” she mumbled.

He went silent again. Most of Madison’s clients were friendly and talkative. But this guy made her uneasy. She looked around at the rest of the group. They were all rough-hewn and paunchy. One guy had a dark, shiny face and a body like a beach ball ready to burst. The others were unshaven with shaggy, unkempt hair. She’d never seen men like these allowed upstairs, even if they were members. Then she noticed the briefcase. It was a small, black valise wedged between Ramon’s legs and the sofa.

“So,” Ramon blurted out, apropos of nothing. “You are one hot mama.”

The waiter arrived with her vodka tonic, which she eagerly accepted. Ramon waved him away, as if shooing an annoying child. As Madison sipped her drink, she noticed Nicolette, one of the other dancers, making a beeline for them, her sky-high stilettos moving at a quick clip. As she drew nearer, she deliberately slowed her pace into a smoldering saunter.

“Ramon!” she cooed, batting her spider lashes at him. “Sweetie, I didn’t even know you were here!” She draped herself over the arm of his chair and ran her pointy-nailed fingers through his hair.

Nicolette was a Costa Rican woman with long, sandy hair and a voluptuous, Jessica Rabbit body. Madison had heard that she changed her stage name every few months, constantly reinventing herself. A waiter told her that when Nicolette arrived at the club two years ago, she was a walking beanpole. Since then she’d transformed herself into the Mexican male fantasy. She had large breast implants, butt implants, calf implants, a nose job, collagen lips, and expensive hair extensions from Thailand.

Ramon nodded brusquely and leaned forward, trying to get out of her reach. “I’m with Arizona right now,” he growled. “We were just having a nice conversation.”

Nicolette pushed out her lower lip and folded her arms like a child. “But you know how much I like to see you when you’re here,” she pouted. “Remember all the free dances I gave you last time?”

Ramon grinned and nodded his head, but it looked like he was just keeping time with the music.

“Why don’t you sit with Gerardo,” he said, gesturing at the obese guy. “And get someone for The Colombian. A dark-skinned girl.Skinny with a pretty face. That’s what he likes.”

Madison’s body went cold. The Colombian? How could she be so dense, she thought. They were members of a drug cartel. Nicolette stood up and smoothed her dress, but she lingered there, as if hoping Ramon would change his mind. But he just looked at her impatiently.

“Go on,” he snapped. “And hurry back.”

As Nicolette swished away in a huff, Ramon half turned his head and looked straight at Madison’s breasts.

“You know, we’re going to Monaco in a couple weeks,” he said to her cleavage. “You should come with us. Frankly, you look like you could use some sun.”

He rolled up his sleeve and pressed his forearm against the side of hers. His skin had the color of wet sand, which looked even darker next to Madison’s pale, Irish skin. She felt him press his arm against hers, the stiff hairs pricking her skin. But she was too afraid to move it. Abruptly, he pulled away and pushed his sleeve down.

“So, are you in?” he asked. “You can hang out on the beach. Drink champagne. Do you like champagne? Chicks always like champagne.”

He stood up and barked at a passing waiter, beckoning him over.

“Dom Perignon,” he demanded, gesturing frantically at the table, as if willing it to appear by magic. “With strawberries.” He turned to Madison again. “You like strawberries?”

“Sure,” she said nervously. She took another long sip of her drink, until her head felt lighter and the fear ebbed a bit. “But I should probably eat something first.”

Ramon looked back at the waiter. “Smoked almonds. Lobster tail. Do you guys still have lobster tail?”

The waiter nodded. “The best in Mexico.”

“Okay,” Ramon said brusquely. “Bring that then. And bread. We need some fucking bread.”

Nicolette reappeared with Andrea, a beautiful, sweet girl from Monterey. Andrea was flushed with excitement, and she gave Madison a wide-eyed smile that said, “Jackpot!”

Ramon looked at the older man, who Madison guessed was The Colombian. He was still talking quietly on his cell phone. Nicolette sat down on the arm of the fat man’s chair with a phony smile. The man looked up at her, unsmiling, and said nothing. Ramon gestured for Andrea to sit down next to The Colombian. With an eager nod, she settled beside him. He turned to look at her, his face vacant. Then, as if someone had stripped off a blindfold, his expression changed, and he beamed at her. He muttered something into the phone and hung up.

“What have we here?” he said flirtatiously, picking up Andrea’s hand.

She giggled. “Andrea,” she said in a cute, little girl voice.

The Colombian pressed her hand to his lips, and then held it in his lap. Madison could see in his eyes that he liked the girl’s guilelessness.

“Beautiful,” he sighed with a smile. “But right now, we have business to discuss. No girls.”

Madison was taken aback. But Nicolette stood up with a flirty wave and swished away. Andrea looked crestfallen. She and Madison followed Nicolette until they were out of earshot.

“You said they wanted me,” Andrea snapped.

Nicolette rolled her eyes and pulled a tube of lipstick from her purse. She picked up a butter knife from an empty table and used it for a mirror.

“Relax,” she grumbled. “This is what they always do. They’ll call us back.” She traced the contours of her pouty, collagen-plumped lips. “Believe me, you don’t want to know what they’re talking about.”

Madison shuddered. “You know, Nicolette,” she said, losing her nerve. “You can have Ramon. I think I’m going to work downstairs tonight.”

Nicolette turned quickly. “Are you crazy? It doesn’t work like that.”

Madison hesitated. “I’m just not sure…”

“Don’t be an idiot,” she hissed, gazing into the blade of the knife, wiping a smear of lipstick from her teeth. “All you have to do is sit there. That’s all you have to do.”

She was right, Madison thought. Be brave. Easy money. That was what she was there for. When the men finished talking, they were called back to the table. It was not a difficult night, but it was the longest of her life. The group closed out the place, until the only remaining lights were those illuminating the lounge. Cesar dozed in his booth, rousing only when the men shouted at him, demanding requests. The Colombian was very drunk, and cried when Cesar played a sentimental song about a man and his elderly father, and made him play it again and again. Madison perched dutifully, but exhausted, on the sofa beside Ramon, who mostly spoke with the other men about soccer and sports cars. Madison thought it would never end.

Finally, the men stood to go, all of them weaving drunkenly. Madison’s legs had gone numb from sitting for so long. She turned to say goodnight to Ramon, but before she could speak, he’d pulled her close and kissed her on the lips, pushing his tongue into her mouth. He slipped a hand into the top of her dress and rolled her nipple between his fingers.

Madison gasped. She glanced at the last remaining security guard, who watched them, stone-faced, and looked away. Ramon nudged his crotch hard against her with a little grunt, and then let her go. As if nothing had happened, he pulled an envelope from his pocket and shoved it into her hand.

“Until next time, blondie,” he mumbled, slurring the words.

Madison stood there stunned, still feeling the sting on her nipple. She felt dirty and disgusted, and very, very tired. She watched as the men lumbered through the dark, empty dining room and filed, one by one, out the back door. Nicolette and Andrea chatted giddily together, already thumbing through the bills they’d been given. But Madison just wanted to go home. There was only one house taxi left on the clock, and she grabbed it before the other two girls had finished changing.

The house was dark when she slipped through the door. There was a message from her mother’s friend, Lidia, on her cell phone, informing Madison that her mother was slowly coming around and asking for her daughter. She collapsed onto the bed and chewed her thumbnail, something she hadn’t done since high school. Her mother had been too medicated to remember Madison’s tearful goodbye at the hospital, or how she’d promised to make everything all right. She’d have to call Lidia in the morning and come up with some lie about where she was and what she was doing. The money had been good, but she was still far from her goal. Enzo had been right. There was a lot of loose cash floating around in Mexico. And somehow she had to get more of it.

Finally, she opened the envelope and pulled out the money Ramon had given her. She tried not to think about how he’d helped himself to her body, as if he’d bought the rights to that as well. And she tried not to think about the fact that it was drug money. Blood money.

Madison counted the bills, laying them in little stacks on the bed, her head throbbing, eyes burning with fatigue. To be certain, she counted it again and again. In a daze, she stared at piles of cash, trying to wrap her head around it. In the six hours she’d spent with Ramon, she’d made ten thousand dollars.