#El Mayo | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

purplesong1028 · 2 years ago

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Call It Even

(My rare pair writing challenge for myself that somehow turned into a 9k words novel…)

Rating: Mature

Paring: Amado/Mayo, Amado/Pacho

Words: 9,542

The first time it happened, it was more like a stress relief than anything else. The process of restructuring the entire operation of Juárez wasn’t going as smoothly as Amado had hoped. He was living in a shitty house while his new mansion was under construction. On top of all that, he still hadn’t summoned enough courage to visit his daughter’s grave.

Mayo was asking for a favor, something about moving his boats through the port in Peñasco, which technically didn’t belong to Juárez, but he was planning to expand his operation there. He didn’t know how exactly Mayo got that information, but it didn’t matter that much. People like them always had their own ways.

They were acquaintances at best, never even met alone before, but somehow Amado just knew the other man wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of a little fun time. A certain someone had given him enough experiences to develop a quite accurate instinct for this sort of thing.

They parked the boat in the middle of open water. Below the deck, even moonlight couldn’t shine through the closed door. Their bodies intertwined in complete darkness, surprisingly easy, both knowing exactly what to do, and Amado couldn’t help but wonder where Mayo got his experiences from. But then the waves must have gotten higher, because the boat started to rock back and forth, matching their increasingly intense rhythm, and all other thoughts were pushed out of his brain.

He woke up naked the next morning, under a soft blanket that smelt like sea. The boat was already moving, so he quickly got dressed and went up the deck. Mayo waved at him behind the steering wheel, or whatever that wheel was called on boats.

“How did you sleep?”

That could mean two very different things, but either way his answer was the same. “Pretty good.”

“Good.” Mayo smiled, adjusting the wheel to a fixed position, and then loosely leaned on it. “We didn’t talk about tax yesterday. How much do you want?”

“How much are you moving?”

Mayo nodded at a container in the corner, “five times that much.”

Amado walked over and took off the lid, “every week? Month?”

“Twice per month.”

He did some quick math in his head. “That’s fine, you can just move them through the port.”

Mayo lifted his eyebrows in surprise, and he wished he could take back what he said. It sounded more like an insult than a nice gesture, in more ways than one.

But then Mayo just shrugged. “Gracias compa! If you ever need a favor, or a friend…you know where to find me.”

He heard the meticulous way “friend” was pronounced, and he didn’t miss the suggestive gaze, right on the fine line between being flirtatious and blunt.

They didn’t see each other for a long time after that. Mayo kept his promise, moving their agreed amount and nothing more, so Amado kept his word as well, never asking for a tax. Frankly, that amount of money would mean nothing to him if he could make this new deal with Cali.

Then he wouldn’t just be moving the products. He would be selling them.

It felt weird to meet with Pacho in the presence of others. He was so used to it being just them. It was easier that way, more relaxing. They always did other things besides talking business. Those times gave him a brief illusion that the Colombian was his.

The meeting went well, and he felt nothing but gratefulness towards Pacho, knowing that Cali would never share their US territory with a Mexican if Pacho didn’t vouch for him.

In a way, that was the worst part, because he couldn’t even find a reason to be mad. How could he be mad at Pacho for not staying for a drink, when Pacho helped him to get half of the US market?

He flew back to Mexico that night and had no sleep, and the next afternoon he went to Mazatlán.

That’s why he’s standing by the port again right now, looking at the same boat. Or maybe it was a different one, just similar. He couldn’t really tell, just like others couldn’t tell his planes apart too.

The sun is just beginning to set, painting the sky a shade of dark orange, tainting all reflections on the water with golden sparkles. Mayo is sitting on the deck, enjoying a bottle of beer, his baseball cap placed on a chair right next to him.

He looks at Amado, and then tells his guys to leave.

“I guess you don’t need a favor.”

Amado takes off his sunglasses. He doesn’t need them under the dim sunlight. “No.”

Mayo smiles and takes the baseball cap off the chair, casually tossing it on a pile of nets nearby. “Then come aboard.”

It’s still dark below the deck, but he has just enough light to see the person right in front of him, and everything else in the background is blurred out. Their clothes are scattered on the floor. Their lips are on each other’s body so they don’t need to talk. The blankets and sheets still smell like the sea, but it’s not a bad odor— it’s fresh and natural.

It reminds him of a nice cool breeze in the midst of summer heat.

They lay side by side catching their breath, letting their heartbeats slow down after the overwhelming raw pleasure. Then the awkwardness suddenly hits him, and he doesn’t know what to say or do. That never happened before, not with women because they always wanted to cuddle, and not with Pacho either. They were already friends before anything else.

But Mayo’s not his friend, and certainly not a woman, but that thought makes him break into a smile, and Mayo spots it immediately.

“Something funny?”

There’s no point in denying it, but he’s not going to share the details. “A little.”

Mayo reaches for his pants on the floor, and takes out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the pockets. “Good funny?”

“If you say so.” He waves it off when Mayo offers him the pack. This dark, enclosed space is perfect for sex, but terrible for smoking.

Mayo apparently doesn’t mind as he lights one for himself, the little spark shines on his face, casting a shadow of the nicely shaped nose.

“Did you come up with El Mayo yourself?” Amado doesn’t know where that question came from, probably just a random thought his brain made up on its own to alleviate the uneasiness.

“Yeah, why?”

“Just the month of May?”

“Why not?” Mayo blows out a puff of smoke. “It’s a good time of the year. Not too hot, not too rainy, great for sailing.”

That makes perfect sense, but almost too much sense for people like them. It feels too effortless, too authentic.

“Also, what other options do I have? El Señor de Los Cielos sounds cool, but lord of the sea just sounds like some dirty pirate with golden teeth.”

Amado bursts out laughing at that ridiculous mental image, and the best part is that it doesn’t even look bad. Mayo as a dirty pirate? Hilarious, but not bad.

Mayo laughs with him, and then doesn’t say more. Silence falls upon them again, but the awkwardness is miraculously gone.

Mayo finishes the cigarette and takes his watch from a tiny table next to the bed, which might or might not count as a nightstand. Amado sits up straight, taking it as his cue to leave.

“You want something to eat?” Mayo takes a look at time, and then starts putting on his pants. “There’s a pretty nice seafood place around here.”

“What?”

Mayo shrugs, buckling up the belt. “It’s dinner time, unless you want to drive straight back.”

The restaurant is small and vibrant, full of regular civilians, half look like fishermen or sailors, or maybe they’re also criminals pretending to be normal, like them.

The owner comes out to greet Mayo, not with a handshake but an earnest hug, the kind of hug that only belongs to people who have known each other for a long time.

“I give José free shrimp all the time, so he lets me eat here free for life.” Mayo suddenly says, after the owner brought them their third round of free drinks.

Amado drinks a large gulp of cold beer. “Well, does he know why you never ask to be paid?”

Mayo just looks at him and smiles. There’s something special with that smile, by now Amado has noticed. He’s no stranger to nice smiles. He’s seen it on Pacho a thousand times, seductive and irresistible. But this is different; it’s lighthearted and simple, even contagious, like smiling doesn’t need a reason.

It makes him want to smile too.

They have developed into a routine since then. There isn’t a fixed schedule, of course, that would be fucking weird, but they can always find out when is a good time for the other person, meaning business is going smoothly and no one’s trying to kill them at the moment.

Again, people like them always have their ways.

He’s been to most of Mayo’s boats, if not all. He even ranked them based on their comfort levels in his head. It’s actually how he can tell them apart to a large extent, not that he’s ever going to tell Mayo that. He has also learned what restaurants in Mazatlán have the freshest seafood, and that has completely ruined all seafood restaurants in Juárez. Now they all taste like shit, even the most expensive ones.

His favorite is still José’s place. The oysters are to die for, and the shrimp too, but that doesn’t surprise him. José never lets him pay, even when he’s not going with Mayo, but he always leaves a generous tip.

One day, when Amado arrives at the port as usual, he’s suddenly hit with two realizations. One, they literally have never fucked on dry land. Two, he’s always the one running around. Mayo has never been to Juárez, at least not for this matter.

“You don’t live on your boats, right?” He asks, just to make sure.

Mayo snorts, “on these boats?! What made you think that?”

“I don’t know, man. You’re here every time.” Amado shrugs, looking around at the now familiar surroundings. A random mechanic recognizes him and nods.

Mayo gives him a thoughtful look. “You never asked to go anywhere else.”

That’s true, because boats are the perfect place to do what they do. They can just sail out, park anywhere and all of a sudden, it’s like the whole world disappears. Whatever they do stays in the middle of nowhere, and at this point, they have done a lot.

However, if he’s being completely honest with himself, boats are not yachts, and he’s not twenty years old anymore. It doesn’t hurt to fuck on a nice soft king-sized bed once in a while.

“You know, if you want a change of scenery, you don’t have to come here.” Mayo leans forward a little, staring right into his eyes like he’s reading his mind. “I’m sure it’d be a lot more comfortable in your new house, or more exciting on a plane.”

Amado’s genuinely impressed at how Mayo effortlessly turned the table, kicking the ball right back to him, even making it sound a bit like his fault.

“You never offered to make the trip.” He responds, intentionally mimicking what the other man said earlier.

“I’m offering now.”

He swallows, not sure how he’s so aroused by that simple sentence, maybe it has something to do with that unfazed attitude. “The house or the plane?”

“Your place, your call.”

Mayo whistles when they walk into one of the large living rooms. “How long did they take to build this again?”

“Too long if you ask me.”

Outside of the floor-to-ceiling window, a few gardeners are working on the lawn. Amado walks over and closes the curtains.

Mayo runs his fingertips along the large dining table, “is this marble?”

“I think so.”

Mayo smirks, and without asking for his permission, picks up the crystal vase at the center of the table and gently sets it on the floor. “Ever tried it?”

A strong sense of deja vu suddenly hits him. The first time Pacho came to his new house, in this exact same living room, whispering in his ear, “now pick a bedroom.”

He blinks and shakes that memory out of his mind. Interestingly, he has been thinking about Pacho less frequently, at least less intensely. What just happened used to be a regular occurrence, but just now it took him by surprise.

Mayo is leaning sideways on the marble table, head slightly tilted to the side, patiently waiting. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by the unexpected silence. If anything, he looks curious.

Amado shakes his head a bit frustratedly. “You just hate regular nice beds, don’t you?”

“I like them for sleeping.”

He rolls his eyes. “This is an open area. People can walk in anytime.” Not only that, there is a big sculpture of The Last Supper on the shelf directly facing this table.

“They all work for you, just tell them to stay away. We can be quiet.” Mayo glances at the sculpture, and then gives him a smirk, outright sinful. “Come on, don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.”

He gives in. He can never resist. Sometimes he wonders how he hasn’t developed a coke addiction with his crappy self control. Maybe sex is the only thing he’s drawn to.

Despite his vindictive efforts to make it difficult, Mayo does manage to stay quiet, but he can tell the tension and excitement from the grip on his shoulders, hard enough to leave bruises. He doesn’t care. If he looks up, he can see eye to eye with Jesus. For a brief moment he doesn’t care about that either. Why should he? They’re both going to hell anyway.

Amado wakes up in the morning next to another warm naked body. Right, they did it again last night, finally on a bed like normal people. Sunlight shines through the small slit between heavy curtains. The room looks peaceful at this time, and so does the person. For some reason Mayo always woke up before him in their previous encounters, so this is actually the first time Amado sees him asleep.

He doesn’t realize he’s leaning in until their faces are inches apart from each other. Then Mayo opens his eyes.

It could be some sixth sense that they all eventually develop in their world. The sleepiness in Mayo’s light brown eyes turns into alert immediately. Amado jumps back just in time to avoid being hit in the face.

The air is filled with awkward tension as they stare at each other from their own side of bed, both still naked under the cover.

“Shit man,” Mayo laughs and runs a hand down his face, “don’t scare me like that.”

“Sorry.” He mutters, turning away to get out of bed.

“What time is it?” Mayo asks, although there is a large clock right there on the wall.

“Around 8:40.” Amado answers as he walks to the closet, putting on a black bathrobe.

“Great, I should be back by noon.” Mayo takes the identical robe right next to it and wraps it around himself.

“Something going on?”

“There’s always something going on.” Mayo brushes off the question and walks towards the bathroom, but stops in front of the nightstand as something catches his eye.

“Huh, is this the one you flew to Mazatlán last time?” He picks it up, and Amado’s heart drops as he sees what’s in the other man’s hands.

“Put that down!”

“Sí, tranquilo!” Mayo immediately sets it back down on the nightstand, and then puts up both hands. “Sorry.”

Amado pinches the bridge of his nose. He didn’t realize how dramatic his tone was, but he’s not going to apologize. Mayo shouldn’t be touching his stuff without asking, but he also didn’t set that rule straight yesterday with the vase.

Mayo crosses his arms and fixes him with an inquisitive stare, not at all offended or demanding, just simply curious about his sudden outburst, and somehow that enrages him even more. He knows it’s not the best way to deal with the situation, but at this moment, he just wants to tell Mayo to go take a shower, get dressed and get out of his house.

“My bad, I should have known.” Mayo breaks the silence with another apology. “Of course you would have some strong attachments to planes, even if it’s a model.”

If it came from anyone else, it would sound like they were making fun of him, saying he was like a little boy holding onto his toys. But Mayo somehow always manages to make the teasing remarks sound harmless and fun, like there are no other hidden meanings.

Amado sighs, “it was my daughter’s.”

Sometimes he forgets that he doesn’t have to hide her existence anymore. No one can hurt her now.

“Oh, I didn’t know you had a daughter.” Mayo lifts his eyebrows in surprise. “How old is she?”

“Six.” He walks towards the nightstand and adjusts the toy plane to the exact same location and angle as before. “She was six.”

He knows Mayo will catch the specific choice of word, so he doesn’t bother to meet him in the eye. He remembers how Pacho looked at him after hearing the news: shock, pity, pain… As heartwarming as it was to know someone else cared, he doesn’t want to see any of that again.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t know.”

Amado remains quiet, because he doesn’t want to say it’s ok. It’s fucking not.

“What was her name?”

“Anna.”

“Sounds very pretty.”

She is. She’s the prettiest little girl he’s ever seen.

He hears a gentle sigh, and then footsteps walking away. The bathroom door closes, and water starts running.

Nothing prepared Amado for the news Pacho brought. Cali is getting out of the business, for good. But why? How? What is he going to do? Where else can he get this amount of supply? “Gilberto and Miguel have always treated me as family. I’m going to join them.”

Amado understands that. Really, he does. But what about him? Hasn’t he always treated Pacho with utmost respect, trust and adoration? Hasn’t he been the best business partner, a good friend and more?

What about them?

Once Pacho has made up his mind, there’s no way to change it. Amado knows. That’s one of the reasons he respects him so much. But respect does nothing to ease the pain, so he does the only thing he knows whenever he’s in a bad place these days. He dials the familiar number.

Mayo opens the door when he arrives at the house in a suburban area. Amado hasn’t been here before, but it looks like a nice house, just not the house. It’s well decorated, both comfortable and aesthetic, but he just doesn’t feel like this is a place Mayo would call home. Why he feels that way, he doesn’t know, and he’s also not in the mood to think about.

They waste no time getting into bed, pieces of clothing scattered all over the expensive carpet. They’ve done it both ways, and both have been highly enjoyable, but tonight he’s not here for fun. He just desperately needs to let out his frustration in someone, someone who doesn’t mind.

When he shoves the other man into the mattress, Mayo shoots him a suspicious glance but doesn’t protest, which he really appreciates. He enters the warm body with little preparation, feeling the muscles clenching around his length. He forces himself to take a deep breath and slow down, so he doesn’t actually hurt him. Causing pain to whomever he sleeps with is never a turn-on.

Underneath him Mayo silently grabs the silky sheet, and he covers it with his own hand, intertwining their fingers tightly until their knuckles turn white.

The orgasm is satisfying and cathartic as usual, but physical pleasure can only do so much. They sit on their own sides of bed, the only thing floating in silent air is the smoke from two cigarettes.

Finally Mayo turns to him first, intentionally blowing a puff of smoke next to his face. “That bad?”

Amado knows he’s not talking about the sex. That was never bad.

That’s never the bad part with anyone.

“Have you ever had partners?” He asks, although he doesn’t even know why that question came to mind, or how that’s relevant in any way.

“Partners? No.” Mayo chuckles, “things change, people change, and once you have a disagreement…”

He pauses and turns to look Amado in the eye. It’s probably not a special or intense look to anyone else, but Amado knows all about it now: the teasing suggestiveness that’s always followed by something provocative, for better or worse.

“When things don’t work out, you will have to betray them, or kill them, right?”

Amado frowns, suddenly realizes how audacious Mayo has become with him, but what’s worse is that he doesn’t feel offended or threatened when he should.

“Hey, no judgment here. You do what you have to do. That’s the business.” Mayo pats him playfully on the naked shoulder. “I’m just saying that’s too much trouble for me. Always better to be my own boss.”

Is it? Maybe. Amado agrees, but he wouldn’t have agreed a decade ago. He thinks about Acosta, and even Miguel. He used to see them as partners. Maybe he doesn’t call them families like how Pacho calls the other Cali godfathers, but he cared about them at some point.

But Mayo has always been on his own. Maybe he’s more of a lone wolf than any of them.

Maybe that’s why Amado keeps coming back.

He thought losing his supply would be the biggest problem, but he should have known the golden rule in their business: when one thing goes to shit, everything goes to shit.

He just got off the plane an hour ago, hadn’t even had something to eat yet, and the fucking Arellanos shot up his favorite restaurant. He lost two bodyguards, but everyone else got out of there safely. He’s unscratched.

Amado rushes back home, asks his men to do a thorough security evaluation, and pours himself a generous glass of whiskey. When his phone rings, he has barely finished one third of the glass.

Mayo doesn’t bother to say hello. “Did they make a move on you too?”

It’s a vague question, doesn’t even specify who they are. Amado can play oblivious if he wants, but a shootout in a public restaurant is no secret, so there’s no point in denying.

“Why are you asking?”

He hears a sigh. “Well, they burned my ship. Just trying to figure out if I’m the only one they’re pissed at.”

Amado almost wants to tell him he got off easy. Having a ship burned sounds much better than being shot at. But this is not the time for jokes.

“You want to meet tomorrow? For business.” Now that he thinks about it, the last two words really aren’t necessary.

“Sure, Juárez or Mazatlán?”

“I’ll fly there first thing in the morning. Meet by the port?”

“Sounds good. I’ll show you the wreckage.”

Mayo makes it sound like something good, which he doesn’t understand, but now he’s curious. Which ship was burned? The biggest one? How many times have they done it in that one?

“So…see you tomorrow?” Mayo asks tentatively, snapping him out of his roaming thoughts. He must have been quiet for a while.

He quickly confirms and hangs up the phone. It’s been a long day, and he needs to get up early tomorrow. Time for some sleep.

Amado has never been to this port in the morning, and the beautiful scene makes him wonder why he hasn’t. Morning sunlight is bright but gentle, without the burning afternoon heat, just a hopeful glow on the tranquil water. It contrasts the ship wreckage perfectly, almost in an artistic way.

“Shit, the biggest one?” Amado shakes his head looking at the ruins. “Always come for what we love, right?”

“It’s a shame. She was my favorite one. Still had a few good years to go.” Mayo touches the burned metal frame. “But it’s fine. We managed to put it out before it could spread to other boats.”

“I assume you’re here to talk about a plan.” Mayo leads him to another boat, takes out two bottles of beers from a freezer and throws him one.

He catches it. “And I assume you already have one.”

Mayo smirks behind the beer bottle, and then goes on to explain how he plans to use Sinaloan’s manpower to move products through Tijuana. It’s a unique plan, the kind of plan that only Mayo can pull off, because the asshole knows everyone and somehow always gets what he wants from these connections.

That means Mayo wants something from him too.

“What do you need from me?”

“Chapo already has men, so we just need products to get going. The numbers you’re doing? I’m sure you don’t mind sparing a little.” Mayo raises the half empty bottle to him, “and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“What rest?”

“What else?” Mayo shrugs, “the Arellanos tried to kill you. Surely the Lord of the Skies won’t let that slide.”

The sun is rising higher, and he puts on his sunglasses. “I don’t know. The Arellanos helped me to take down Félix.”

Mayo simply takes another sip of beer. “So?”

The nonchalance and casual cruelty send an exciting chill down his spine, rushing blood to somewhere that it absolutely shouldn’t go right now.

“I’ll advance your products.” He says, a bit hurriedly. It’s a good thing that he has his sunglasses on.

“Great. Then it’s a deal.”

Usually this is when they shake hands, but at this point, they both know they’re closer than that.

“It’s a deal.” Amado nods, and claps Mayo’s shoulder, giving it a firm shake.

The other man immediately tenses up under his touch, almost like a held-back flinch. The beer bottle drops on the deck and shatters.

“What…” Startled, Amado removes his hand. “What the hell was that?”

“Nothing. The bottle just got slippery.”

“No, what happened to your left arm?”

Mayo waves it off with the other arm. “It’s fine, man. Not a big deal.”

“Don’t give me that shit.” He meant to use a stern tone, but it comes out more annoyed than anything. “What the fuck’s going on?”

Mayo lets out a frustrated sigh, acting like Amado is the unreasonable one here. “Just a burn I got last night, when I got off the ship.”

“When you…wait, they tried to burn the ship while you were on the ship?”

“You know how it is. We’ve all done it.” Mayo says that casually, and Amado truly doesn’t understand how he’s so calm about it. People fuck over and kill each other in this business. That’s no news. But almost being burned alive?!

“They fucked up their chance, and now it’s our turn. It’s that simple.” Mayo explains, like he’s the one trying to calm Amado down, which is quite funny since Amado is usually the calm one.

Then it hits him. He is usually calmer than this. He’s had friends killed. He has killed friends. Mayo is right, because a burn on the arm is nothing with their standard. He shouldn’t care this much.

He doesn’t know when he started to.

“We’ll get back at them, right?” Mayo pulls him out of his thoughts again. “That’s what we’re talking about here.”

“Yeah.” Amado adjusts his sunglasses, trying to get his brain back to business mode, and when he speaks, the viciousness in his voice matches perfectly with the rage inside. “They need to die.”

“I’ll make sure of that.”

“But try to do it quietly. We don’t want to end up like Benjamín.”

Mayo gives him a smile, the kind of smile that’s only reserved for when they’re alone, often naked. “Please Amado, we both know how to keep things quiet pretty well.”

Turns out things can only be so quiet when you’re torturing and killing people daily. Mayo even burned a bunch of people alive. Of course he did.

The violence doesn’t surprise him, but Hank’s reaction does. It starts to make more sense when he puts more thoughts into the situation. Hank is a politician, and with politicians, it’s all about appearances, about what everything looks like on the outside. At the end of the day, they don’t care how many people in the drug business die, as long as it doesn’t get traced back to them. That’s why Hank is threatening to cut all ties.

Again, when one thing goes to shit, everything goes to shit.

Pacho visits him again to talk about a final deal with Cali, but they both know that’s just an excuse for them to see each other one last time.

They drink, they talk, they laugh at each other’s jokes. Everything feels natural and relaxing, because by one in a million chance, they actually enjoy each other’s company. They like each other, a lot, and that fucking destroys him.

When they finally move to the bedroom, Amado wishes time would pause so he can imprint every detail of this experience in his brain, remember every little sound Pacho makes when he’s touched, the way each muscle tenses with arousal, and how those beautiful brown eyes stare right into his when pleasure takes them both over the edge.

He will miss this, he knows, every bit of it.

“Stay.” He says hopefully, desperately. “We can start something on our own. It’ll be good, just like the old times.”

The old times are slipping away, faster everyday and he can’t stop it. He wants Pacho, needs Pacho to be here, to remind him that it’s possible to have something actually good come out of this business, besides money he can’t spend in ten life times.

“I can’t. You know I would if I could.” Pacho’s smooth voice sounds even deeper, almost like a sigh, and there’s nothing other than honesty and sorrow in his words. “Gilberto, Miguel and Chepe are my family. I love them. I can’t leave them when they need me the most.”

Amado feels a lump in his throat, and he has to blink away the burning sensation behind his eyes. He will miss Pacho, but that’s not even the worst part.

The worst part is he sees it now: not even Pacho can give him what he craves for.

It’s not sex, and even a good friendship isn’t enough. The way Pacho is willing to risk everything for his Cali family, the way Acosta was willing to die for Mimi, that is what he wants. And he hasn’t felt that since he lost his daughter.

He wants someone. What’s the fucking point to get on top of the world only to end up dying alone in a ditch or a small cell?

“Hey, Amado…” Pacho touches his cheek, uncharacteristically gentle, eyes filled with genuine care and empathy. “You will find your way out too, and you will find someone to do it with. You know that, right?”

He doesn’t know how Pacho read his mind, and also doesn’t know the answer to that question, but he smiles and says yes, because both of them deserve to hear it. They should end on a hopeful note, just like how they started, believing they were building the biggest collaborative empire in narcos history. Now, they need to believe they will get out of it.

Preparing for a grand escape plan is not easy, especially for someone like him: the number one target on everyone’s list, since he’s doing the biggest numbers.

There are several times when Amado’s having too much stress and not enough sleep, he has an almost unstoppable desire to call Mayo. It’s like a habit now, the perfect person to have an hour of good time with just to chase some temporary release before he has to get back to reality. At least that’s what he’s telling himself. It’s just the sex, and the good food, and the occasional entertaining conversations, and… He shakes himself out of it. This is not a good time for that. There won’t ever be a good time again.

Surprisingly, Mayo ends up contacting him first, saying they have business to discuss. Honestly, they do. Things in Tijuana are getting too loud, which can’t be good for his already challenging escape plan. And speaking of that, he should at least have the decency to let Mayo know, not about his plan of course, but just the fact that their deal, cooperation and whatever else is over.

Amado should have reached out first, but he has been delaying it because he’s been busy, because there are a hundred more important things to take care of, because Mayo probably doesn’t even need it — such a gesture is never expected from people like them.

All these are true, but none of them is the most crucial reason.

He doesn’t want to.

This is the most silent conversation they’ve had, even tenser than the first time they met, or the first time they fucked. He used to think it was impossible to have an awkward interaction with Mayo. The man has many talents, but the most of them all is his forever easygoing demeanor. It has always been comfortable to be around him, until now.

“So, is the rumor true?” Mayo takes a small sip of beer and sets the bottle neatly on the coaster.

“What rumor?” It’s not a rhetorical question. There are ten new rumors every hour these days.

“You know, about Cali.” Mayo smiles and tilts his head suggestively, and the air is filled with a dangerous sense of provocation, dancing on the edge of offensiveness. “People have been talking, but who knows better than you? You are the one with the relationship.”

The words are spoken in a gentle, teasing tone, almost warm, yet Amado feels himself freeze, muscles tensing up instinctively like he’s about to enter a shootout.

He bites out the word in a flat tone. “Relationship?”

“Yeah? I mean, we’re all transporting their products, but you are the only one they have a close relationship with. Everyone knows that.”

Amado slowly leans closer, usually that would be a gesture of intimacy between them, but now it only carries threat and pressure. “What are you trying to say, Mayo?”

“That they’re getting out of the business?” Mayo shrugs and picks up the beer bottle again, casually taking another sip, and just like that, the air is again filled with a relaxed atmosphere. “They’re your supply, and right now my supply is you, so I need to know if that’s true.”

Amado stares into Mayo’s eyes, hoping to see something in the other man’s eyes that can give him away: nervousness, challenge or even smugness, but there’s nothing besides curiosity, as if that provocative stare earlier only existed in Amado’s imaginations.

Mayo silently holds his gaze, completely chill like he has nothing to hide, and if Amado knows anything about the man, is that he can maintain that pretense for as long as he wants.

Amado sighs and leans back into his chair. “It’s true.”

“I see.” Mayo nods, seemingly not surprised at all. “Things are changing fast these days, huh?”

“They are.”

“Well, guess I’ll get going then, a lot to take care of.” Mayo finishes the beer, grabs his cowboy hat and starts walking away, but then he stops, turning back to Amado again.

“Hey you know what? Why don’t you fly me back to Mazatlán?”

“…What?”

“You’ve been on all my boats, but I’ve never been on one of your planes.” Mayo leans sideways on a wall, a pretty clear gesture to show he’s not leaving until he gets what he wants. “That doesn’t sound fair, does it?”

It’s a silly question. Since when is fairness ever a consideration in their business? But this isn’t a business request.

This entire meeting has little to do with business.

Mayo doesn’t hide his surprise and confusion when they get out of the car at the end of a dirt road, surrounded by sparse desert plants.

“What, didn’t meet your expectations?” Amado feels the corners of his mouth curving up as he leads them through a narrow path into an open area covered by bushes and large stones, where a few small but efficient planes are hidden. If he has a choice, he rather spends more time here, out in an open field with his planes. He can fly away anytime, get up there in the sky and let everything fade away. How nice would that be?

“Maybe? I thought it would be fancier, you know, like your house.”

Amado snorts, “I’m sure the DEA would love that too.”

“Fair enough, so which one’s your favorite?”

“None of them. My favorite one, she is a bit too old to fly now.” Amado answers truthfully. There’s no need for tests and games now. This is the last time.

“I get it. It’s like your first love, never easy to let go.” Mayo nods, not in a casual, dismissive way, but like he truly understands, and maybe he does. Maybe Mayo also bought his first boat on a payment plan, and kept it running as long as he could.

Amado doesn’t know if that’s really the case because he never asked, and it’s too late to ask now. So he simply walks to a plane and unlocks the door.

Mayo climbs into the co-pilot seat, not hiding his curiosity as he observes the hundreds of buttons on the control panel, and even touches a few without asking. Amado’s pretty sure Mayo did that just to push his buttons.

“Yeah, this is too fucking complicated.”

“They’re pretty intuitive once you understand them.” Amado quickly completes the checklist before taking off. It’s like muscle memory to him now. “I like it more than driving.”

“Oh I’m sure! At least there’s no traffic up there.” Mayo laughs, and it sounds no different than their countless previous encounters. Amado swallows down the uncomfortable sourness in his chest, silently moving the plane to the runway.

“Put your headset on.”

“Yes sir.” The teasing voice comes out of his own headset and it makes his neck tingle. It sounds too close, like a whisper right into his ear.

The runway looks unimpressive but it’s very well maintained. Within a minute, they’re smoothly going up in the air.

Once they reach a stable attitude, he immediately hears Mayo’s voice coming from the headset again. “So how good of a pilot are you?”

Amado scoffs, “what do you think?”

“I don’t know, maybe you’ve gotten rusty? It’s not like you need to transport your own cargo these days.”

Amado rolls his eyes. “If you’re challenging me to do tricks in the air, it’s not fucking happening.”

“What? No! Why would I…” Mayo bursts out laughing, “I have something else in mind.”

“No.” Amado hears the word coming out of his own mouth before Mayo’s hand reaches his thigh.

“Why not?”

“Do you want to die?”

“I thought you were a good pilot.” The hand slowly moves closer, skillful fingers closing around his belt buckle, “a very good one.”

“Stop it.”

“Calm down. We won’t be landing in a while, right? I’m not a pilot but I know this is the easy part.” His belt buckle opens with a click. He didn’t actually hear it with his headset on, but somehow he felt the sound.

Mayo was right. There’s not much to do until he starts the landing process. Sure, it’s still reckless to get a handjob while flying, but that’s not why he can’t do it.

He’s already enjoying everything too much as it is.

“Mayo, stop it right now.” He says that in the most threatening tone he can manage at the moment, but even he can hear the subtle shakiness.

He hears a scoff, and then his zipper opens. “I don’t think you mean that.”

Soft fingertips meet his growing desire, and there’s no way to explain, nowhere to hide.

No. This is not happening.

He grabs Mayo’s hand, yanks it out of his pants and throws it to the other side of the cockpit like a piece of hot metal.

Amado hears a loud bang, and from the side vision, he sees Mayo’s body tense up at the impact. He expects a painful groan, but no sound is coming through his headset.

He sighs and turns to look. Mayo’s balling his left hand into a fist. It looks red with a few small cuts. Maybe it hit an uneven surface on the control panel.

Mayo silently looks up and meets his gaze, and for the first time, he sees a crack of that seemingly undisturbable front. He sees rage, raw and uncontrolled, natural. If Amado weren’t still controlling the plane, he would definitely be punched in the face now.

“Did anything break?”

“No.”

“Ok.”

He wants to say more, maybe even apologize, but then decides against it. He wishes he could do something without much talking, like offering an ice pack. Then he remembers he can actually do that.

“There’s a first aid box at the back if you need it.”

“Ok.” Mayo says, but doesn’t go get it.

They spend the rest of the flight in complete silence. When they’re approaching Mazatlán, Amado nearly makes a comment on how beautiful the sea is, just a natural reaction, but then he bites his lips and swallows the words back.

The landing is as smooth as the take off. Amado turns off the engine, and suddenly all background noise disappears.

Mayo gives him one last look, neither hostile or friendly, just acknowledging his existence.

“It was a good ride, for as long as it lasted.”

Then he opens the door and steps off. Amado watches him walk away. He thought it would feel different, more significant in a way, but it’s not. It’s just a walk, probably a regular occurance for Mayo, walking away from someone, forgetting everything they offered and didn’t offer, and just like that, simply onto the next journey.

Always better to be my own boss.

He’s a man of his words, and Amado respects that.

It takes another three weeks to get everything ready: house, money, securities, the exact plane he needs to fly. He thought about every possible way that things could go wrong and how to counter each scenario. It’s the best plan he could come up with, and if that doesn’t work…well, there’s an end to everything.

It’s 6 pm in the evening. Amado sits alone on the grand staircase, looking down at the luxurious living room. He once overheard a maid telling a gardener the sunset looked gorgeous from the floor to ceiling window in this living room. He didn’t pay much attention, pretty much forgot about it right after. But just earlier today it suddenly came back to him, because he wanted to watch the beautiful sunset from his home at least once.

In two days, he will be gone.

He slowly sips a glass of whiskey, watching the sky get darker. Maybe he’s supposed to feel some kind of tranquility. Things might not go as planned tomorrow, he knows that and has made peace with it more or less. Whatever happens, he’s had an exciting life, more exciting than most.

Still, he can’t shake the restless feeling in his chest, and deep down he knows why. It’s been there since his last trip to Mazatlán.

Mayo might have gotten the closure he wanted, but Amado hasn’t.

He’s been telling himself it doesn’t matter either way, but that’s a lie. He’s never been someone to leave a loose end of any kind. He’s never been a coward since he got into this business, and he’s certainly not going to be one at the end of it.

Amado gets up from the stairs, grabs a jacket and walks out of the door.

It’s already pitch dark when he gets to Mazatlán, completely alone. Ironically, that reminds him of their first few encounters, always in the darkness that hides them from everyone else, as well as themselves.

He knows where Mayo lives. He’s known it for a very long time, but never had a reason to visit without an invitation, until now.

The guards by the door look equally perplexed and scared, and Amado wonders if their patrón ever informed them of this possibility, if Mayo ever expected him to intrude.

The door opens after several minutes, and through some complicated corridors, he’s led to a cozy room that looks like a study. The light is dim and intimate, the armchair feels soft. Everything here is screaming for something to happen, except the owner himself.

“What a big surprise.” Mayo gives him a smile across from the large wooden desk, appropriate and polite.

“I hope you don’t mind.”

“Does it matter if I do?”

Amado looks away for a second. “Maybe not.” It’s true. Once he’s gone it wouldn’t matter.

“So? This must be something important.”

“No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just…I didn’t make it clear last time.” He takes a deep breath, and then slowly exhales. “I told you about the supply, but…”

He stops mid-sentence. He’s practiced this over a hundred times in his head on the way here, but there is no other way to say I’m disappearing for good without actually saying it.

“You won’t see or hear from me again,” he ends up saying. It’s the closest to truth he can afford to share, “for quite a while.”

“I see.” There’s a second of surprise on Mayo’s face, but he immediately looks away to hide it. Then it’s completely gone when their eyes meet again. “Maybe laying low for a while isn’t a bad idea, considering all that’s happening.”

Part of Amado wishes Mayo to say something else, to give a hint that he knows what’s really happening, so there is at least one person in the world that understands.

But why should Mayo understand? It’s not like he knows much about Mayo either. Amado looks at the artworks and books on the shelf behind the desk. Are they just decorations or do they have more meanings? He doesn’t know, does he?

“You’re gonna be ok? With supply and everything?”

Mayo chuckles, relaxed and genuine just like the good old times. “You know me, Amado.”

“Yeah. Always been your own boss, right?”

He feels the smile on his own face as they look at each other. There is no tension or sorrow, just a peacefulness that makes his stomach warm.

“Oh, I almost forgot! Since you’re here…” Mayo opens a drawer and takes out a small box. “I wanted to give it to you last time when you flew me back, but you know, plans change.”

It’s not wrapped or decorated in any way, just a plain black box. He gives Mayo a questioning look, but the other man just shrugs, so he opens it.

It’s a small sculpture of a boat, not like the ones Mayo uses to transport shrimp and coke, but a dreamy sailboat with exquisite pink and golden patterns, like something that belongs to a princess in fairy tales. Under the boat, white waves are curling on the crystal blue ocean, but they also look like sky and clouds.

And on the boat is a dark-haired little girl in a long white dress. Her eyes are closed and her lips are tilted up into a sweet smile. She’s holding a bible to her chest, a cross dangling from her neck.

Right below where the girl is standing, on the side of the boat, it writes Anna.

Amado opens his mouth to say something, but he feels his throat close up. Suddenly it’s hard to make a sound or even breathe.

“At first I wanted to make a plane that takes her to heaven, but then I figured it might be too modern for God.” He hears Mayo speaking again. Maybe he’s been silent for too long, but his brain can’t even register the words he’s hearing. “I mean, the ark was a boat, right?”

“I…” He tries to speak again, and his voice comes out hoarse and strained. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Hey, it’s ok, really!” Now somehow Mayo also seems to be panicking a little, which is almost a miracle. “It’s not like I made it myself. I just paid someone to do it and it’s not even expensive.”

Amado traces the word Anna with his fingertips, feeling the delicate design. All of a sudden a trigger in his brain is flipped, releasing a piece of memory, with Pacho’s voice echoing in his ears.

You will find someone.

He already has, when he wasn’t even looking.

He was just fucking blind.

He reaches over and grabs Mayo’s hand.

“Come with me.”

“…What? To where?”

“I’m not laying low for a while. I’m leaving, forever, in two days.”

“Oh! Ok…that’s…” So many turbulent emotions flash through Mayo’s face, and Amado has never seen something more vivid, more real. “And you said…What are you asking exactly?!”

“I know I should have said something sooner, way sooner, but it’s now or never.” Amado feels the hand under his palm tense up, so he rubs circles on the skin soothingly. “And I don’t want it to be never.”

“You…” Mayo stares at him completely dumbfounded, speechless. Maybe he deserves some kind of award just for that. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am. Look, just think about it. How long are you gonna keep doing this? And what’s your end goal? To make bigger numbers than me? Than Cali? Escobar?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I know, I’m not…” He feels Mayo trying to pull the hand away, so he lets it go out of respect. “You’re right. That’s none of my business, but I know one thing.”

He looks around the room at the tasteful decorations representing their owner’s wealth. “All these… They’ll be gone when the end catches up, one way or another.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“You know, but no one really wants that, not even you.” Amado leans forward and puts both of his hands on the desk. “For the longest time I also thought I was fine with it, but no one wants to be alone.”

Mayo remains quiet and expressionless for a while, and Amado waits patiently, more than willing to give him the time. But then his entire figure hardens. “So that’s what this is all about.”

Amado senses something is terribly wrong, but he doesn’t know what. “What do you mean?”

“Well let’s see, where do I begin? The government was onto you, you lost your supply and your Colombian boyfriend dumped you. So you came up with an escape plan, which was a pretty good idea. But when the 48 hour count down began, you had some kind of…fucking existential crisis, so you came here to grab the first person you could think of, to bring them like a bag of cash.”

“What?! No! How did you even…”

“No? Really?!” Mayo abruptly stands up and bangs on the desk with both hands, so hard that he feels the floor vibrate a little.

Amado leans back into his chair out of sheer instinct. He’s not frightened by the outburst, but he is genuinely, wholeheartedly in shock.

Mayo glances at the door and lowers his voice, but the menace it carries only increases. “Tell me again, when are you leaving?”

“In two days?”

“How long did it take for you to prepare?”

“…Several months.”

“And how long have we known each other?”

He looks up to meet Mayo’s eyes again, and he sees it, the thick layer of pain shadowing all the anger.

Mayo balls both hands into fists, slightly trembling with tension. Under the table, Amado holds the sculpture tightly, its hard edges digging into his palm. It hurts.

Maybe Mayo should have just punched him last time on the plane after they landed. He would have deserved it, and Mayo could have saved himself some trouble.

But nothing happens, just like nothing happened last time. Eventually Mayo lets out a long sigh and sits back down.

“I hope you can get away, and I’m not telling this to anyone.” Mayo takes out a cigarette and lights it, taking a long drag. “But get the fuck out of my house.”

Amado feels his body burning, but there’s also a scary numbness, like his brain literally just overheated his entire body because it couldn’t handle everything that was going on.

He swallows and puts his hands on the armrests, bracing himself to stand up, then turns around to walk away.

“I’m sorry.” He says, when he reaches the door. The words came out on their own, surprising himself. He turns around, truly one last time.

“I’m sorry. I mean it.”

“I said get out.”

Amado spends the next two days in autopilot mode. He already knows everything that needs to be done, so he just does them, but it feels more like accomplishing a preassigned task rather than going to his freedom. He doesn’t know what happens after, and he barely made sense of what happened before, so he is simply going to execute the plan. It’s his only option now.

He hugs his brother one last time when they get to the deserted secret airport, watching the car drive away. Then he just stands there by himself for a few minutes, registering the fact that this is really happening. Then he starts to move his luggage into the plane. There are quite a few bags, understandably, so it will take him several trips.

When he’s about to walk out of the plane to grab the last two duffel bags, he hears a car coming. Silently cursing, Amado takes out his gun and takes cover inside the plane, peeking out of a window.

The person walks out of the car.

His breath hitches.

Amado slowly walks down the air stair, pistol pointing at the ground. “You’re not here to shoot me, right?” It’s meant to be a joke, but he can’t rule that out completely based on their last meeting.

“Honestly? I considered it.” Mayo leans back on the car and crosses his arm, “but that doesn’t fit my best interest.”

“How did you even find me?”

“You brought me here once. Did you forget that too?”

He doesn’t respond, and doesn’t need to. They both know that doesn’t answer the question.

“I saw the news for the last two days. They’ve been seizing your large hangers, thinking they’ve got you pinned down. But I thought hey, maybe that was the plan, a well timed distraction.” Mayo shrugs, “Believe it or not, it was a blind guess, just good luck.”

Amado turns the safety back on and tucks the gun away. This isn’t luck. Mayo knows him, more than either of them is willing to admit.

“Alright, say I believe that.” He takes a few steps closer tentatively. “Why are you here?”

“I thought about what you said. Most of it was fucking bullshit, but you did have one good point.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” Amado adjusts his jacket. All of a sudden he’s feeling the chilliness of the evening breeze, like his body is coming out of the robotic state.

“I don’t want to wait for the end to catch up, and if I’m being honest, with how things are going these days? When the time comes for me I might not have a plan better than this one that you spent months working on, whatever it is.”

Mayo walks to the back of the car and opens the truck, revealing several large bags.

“So I’m taking advantage of this good chance right now.”

“So…you’re basically using me.” There’s a subtle sourness in his chest, but he knows he’s smiling.

“Well, you used me first for a fucking long time, so now it’s my turn.”

Amado walks over and helps him take out two bags. His own luggage on the ground can wait a little.

“Then let’s call it even?”

“I don’t know, depends on where we’re going.”

“Chile.”

Mayo thinks about it, and then smiles.

“Deal.”

“We also need to hide your car.” Amado says, after they moved everything into the plane.

“Don’t worry about it, José will take care of it later.” Mayo waves him off, “I do have some plans, you know?”

“Wait…José? José the restaurant guy?!”

Mayo pauses for several seconds, and then bursts out laughing. “Right, I never told you!”

“Never told me what?”

Mayo pats him on the shoulder, with that exact same casual playfulness as before. The only difference is this time Mayo lets the touch linger there.

“I’ll tell you everything later. We’ve got time.”

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