Read Online Octavia's War by Tracy Cooper-Posey - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Tracy Cooper-Posey
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was thoughtful. “The Commerce dinner, two years ago.”
Ángel felt his middle jump. The Commerce Association’s dinner was an annual event that his father had usually attended. This time, he’d sent Ángel. As it was a legitimate organization with honest intentions, Ángel had not minded the assignment the way Severo would have. Severo hated mixing socially with outsiders because it meant he had to dissemble and cover up his true nature. Worse, he had to watch his tongue the entire time lest he reveal too much about the real work of the Garcia family.
For Ángel, though, being among honest people was a chance to relax and speak freely. To be himself…almost.
The Commerce dinner was a grand affair that brought together most of the influential businessmen and their wives from across the state, in an evening of dinner and speech-making. The most critical component of the evening, though, was the networking and cocktails before the dinner started. As always, most of Mexico’s real business happened on a hand-shake and a promise, at events like this one.
For that reason, Enrico Garcia had sent his second son, who put a normal face upon family affairs.
* * * * *
Bear Dawson was there that night. Ángel saw him across the room, talking and laughing, his Spanish flawless and almost completely accent-free. Bear had been setting up a new branch of a bottled water franchise in Chihuahua. He seemed to understand the principals of bribery and favors that built most businesses and he had a circle of Mexicans listening to his low voice.
Ángel sipped his whiskey, using the drink as a way to hide his sudden distraction from the conversation happening in the circle he stood in.
What was it about the man that drew his attention? True, he was taller than just about everyone in the room. His white skin, blond hair and pale eyes stood out like beacons in a sea of black-haired and black-eyed people.
Until that moment Ángel would have said that his preferred type of people was purely nationalistic. Doe-eyed, dusky women and hot-blooded Hispanic men. They were the type of people he understood, like the woman standing at his side now, smiling at the jokes of the men in their circle. For a moment, Ángel could not remember her name.
The group around Bear Dawson broke up. At that point, Ángel didn’t know who he was or what his name was. He found out later, when the moment was gone. All he knew was that this stranger, this American, was pulling his attention in a way that was almost annoying. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by anything that wasn’t legitimate, normal and respectable tonight. He didn’t want to be distracted. He wanted to enjoy himself, untroubled by exotic demands.
Bear’s gaze met his.
Ángel knew then that the man had been aware of his attention all along. There was no surprise in his expression.
The moment when they looked at each other could only have lasted for the barest second or two, yet seemed to stretch out for hours.
There was knowledge in the man’s gaze. Knowledge and acceptance.
Ángel tore his gaze away, pummeling his attention back to the people around him, gripping his glass until the sharp bumps of crystal bit into his fingers. He couldn’t afford to have anyone notice his distraction.
He managed to keep his gaze upon the little circle he was in right up until supper was called, while his attention wandered just as his thoughts did. His body trembled.
He knew he had not misinterpreted the man’s glance and he was throbbing with the possibilities.
The woman’s hand on Ángel’s forearm kept him anchored where he was. She was the daughter of one of his father’s friends and he could not afford to offend her in any way because at the very least, his father would learn of the insult to his friend. Severo did not have a monopoly on cruel and unusual punishment. Their father was just as capable of dreaming up painful retribution for errors and mishaps.
Later that night, when she
Ángel felt his middle jump. The Commerce Association’s dinner was an annual event that his father had usually attended. This time, he’d sent Ángel. As it was a legitimate organization with honest intentions, Ángel had not minded the assignment the way Severo would have. Severo hated mixing socially with outsiders because it meant he had to dissemble and cover up his true nature. Worse, he had to watch his tongue the entire time lest he reveal too much about the real work of the Garcia family.
For Ángel, though, being among honest people was a chance to relax and speak freely. To be himself…almost.
The Commerce dinner was a grand affair that brought together most of the influential businessmen and their wives from across the state, in an evening of dinner and speech-making. The most critical component of the evening, though, was the networking and cocktails before the dinner started. As always, most of Mexico’s real business happened on a hand-shake and a promise, at events like this one.
For that reason, Enrico Garcia had sent his second son, who put a normal face upon family affairs.
* * * * *
Bear Dawson was there that night. Ángel saw him across the room, talking and laughing, his Spanish flawless and almost completely accent-free. Bear had been setting up a new branch of a bottled water franchise in Chihuahua. He seemed to understand the principals of bribery and favors that built most businesses and he had a circle of Mexicans listening to his low voice.
Ángel sipped his whiskey, using the drink as a way to hide his sudden distraction from the conversation happening in the circle he stood in.
What was it about the man that drew his attention? True, he was taller than just about everyone in the room. His white skin, blond hair and pale eyes stood out like beacons in a sea of black-haired and black-eyed people.
Until that moment Ángel would have said that his preferred type of people was purely nationalistic. Doe-eyed, dusky women and hot-blooded Hispanic men. They were the type of people he understood, like the woman standing at his side now, smiling at the jokes of the men in their circle. For a moment, Ángel could not remember her name.
The group around Bear Dawson broke up. At that point, Ángel didn’t know who he was or what his name was. He found out later, when the moment was gone. All he knew was that this stranger, this American, was pulling his attention in a way that was almost annoying. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by anything that wasn’t legitimate, normal and respectable tonight. He didn’t want to be distracted. He wanted to enjoy himself, untroubled by exotic demands.
Bear’s gaze met his.
Ángel knew then that the man had been aware of his attention all along. There was no surprise in his expression.
The moment when they looked at each other could only have lasted for the barest second or two, yet seemed to stretch out for hours.
There was knowledge in the man’s gaze. Knowledge and acceptance.
Ángel tore his gaze away, pummeling his attention back to the people around him, gripping his glass until the sharp bumps of crystal bit into his fingers. He couldn’t afford to have anyone notice his distraction.
He managed to keep his gaze upon the little circle he was in right up until supper was called, while his attention wandered just as his thoughts did. His body trembled.
He knew he had not misinterpreted the man’s glance and he was throbbing with the possibilities.
The woman’s hand on Ángel’s forearm kept him anchored where he was. She was the daughter of one of his father’s friends and he could not afford to offend her in any way because at the very least, his father would learn of the insult to his friend. Severo did not have a monopoly on cruel and unusual punishment. Their father was just as capable of dreaming up painful retribution for errors and mishaps.
Later that night, when she
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