Renaldo (110 page)

night, man? I was looking all over for you. There were so many señoritas that

wanted to meet ‘The Great Renaldo.’ You really owe me, man. I had to look

after them all for you. I’m exhausted!”

“Well, Ramon, they were in the most capable hands on the National

Team, of that I am certain! Now get your act together. We are being picked up

in less than an hour. I’ll see you then.”

Simone had promised her new lover to be waiting anxiously for his return,

for she had booked the Ambassador’s Suite for the Monday night as well. A

second evening of romance would be all that was required to cement their

future plans together, in England!

It was only a six-block journey to the Jockey Club for the two National

Team players, but the streets were alive with such irrational chaos that the

forty-five minutes allotted traveling time would barely be enough. The R&Rs

settled back into the tinted obscurity of the Mercedes to enjoy the sights and

sounds.

“So, where did you get to last night, man? That was too good a party

to just walk out on.” Ramon had a lascivious grin on his face that belied his

fatigue.

“Oh, you know me. I’m not much of a partier. It was a big day, and I

couldn’t stand all those drunken idiots wanting pictures and autographs. I just

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went to my room and took it easy.” Ramon could not believe what he was

hearing.

“Man, oh, man, I don’t know about you, my friend. How are we ever going

to live together in England if you don’t want to get laid? I have my work cut

out for me if we are going to be roommates.” The extroverted Vida sat silently

looking out the window for several seconds. “OK, so here’s the deal. You teach

me how to speak English, and I teach you how to act around the ladies. You

are a star now, man, you have to start acting like one. That means, lots and lots

of pussy! If you don’t listen to me, Renaldo, the English will think that you

are some kind of fairy, and we can’t afford to have that kind of reputation over

there. We are the great Latin saviors, come to rescue English football and fuck

English women. That is our mission, my friend!”

Renaldo could not help but laugh at his outrageous companion. If, in fact,

he did end up in London, life would certainly never be boring, not with Ramon

Vida living under the same roof.

“I haven’t made up my mind about going to England yet, Ramon.

Everything has happened so quickly, I just don’t want to act without thinking

things through.”

Vida simply shook his head in dismay.

“Well, you’re fucking loco if you stay around here. For the kind of money

they want to pay us, not to mention the experience of a lifetime, why on earth

would you pass that all up?”

Renaldo wanted to blurt out Simone’s name as his reason, for that was the

answer his heart was screaming. But his mind was beginning to realize that

Simone had been serious about leaving Argentina and about the dangers of

staying in such an unstable environment.

He was unable to answer his friend’s question. All that he could do now

was to meet with the English and hope that they would make the decision

easier for him, one way or another.

The table was the exact same one where he had first dined with Simone

more than six months earlier. The memories of that unbelievable afternoon at

the Jockey Club flooded back into Renaldo’s mind. Now the same maitre d’

led the two new arrivals through the packed dining room to Astor Gordero’s

preferred place of business.

While the patrons were impeccably dressed as usual, there was an air of

spontaneous mischief about the private club, similar to the one that was so

prevalent out on the streets. These affluent Porteños had every bit as much right

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to celebrate as their less well-off brothers and sisters, the only difference being

their choice of location and the vintage of the liquid refreshment consumed.

The two football players had not made it halfway through the

establishment when someone recognized them and called out their names.

Even though both men were dressed in business suits instead of the number

one dress of the National Team, there was no mistaking either of these two

figures, so thoroughly had their likenesses been plastered over every newspaper

and television screen the past few weeks. The diners seemed to rise as one,

cheering, applauding, and straining for a better view of the ‘dynamic duo,’ as

they had unimaginatively been coined in the press.

Astor Gordero and his guests were standing and had joined in the

unrehearsed greeting. A phalanx of waiters gathered around Gordero’s table,

acting as a buffer against any overenthusiastic patrons who might just forget

their manners and break the cardinal rule of this members’ only club: ‘privacy

and discretion at all times!’

Ramon and Renaldo had acknowledged the accolades with smiles and

waves before reaching their final destination, and that seemed to satisfy

the masses. There would be no unbecoming behavior and no bothersome

interruptions from that point on.

Introductions were made by the great facilitator himself. Renaldo had

been so caught up in yesterday’s ‘affairs,’ that he had forgotten that one of the

people he was dining with was a woman. A stunningly beautiful woman at

that.

He could only mutter a feeble “hello” using his rusty English. It wasn’t

that he had forgotten the language, it was more the effect of the strange feeling

swirling inside his head. He had been here before with a similar group of

people, several men and a beautiful lady.

Is this deja vu? Is this what I am experiencing?

But there was more! His heart was pounding, just like the first time

he had beheld Simone. Now, the way the seating had been arranged, he was

deemed to sit next to this exotic blonde creature. A natural blonde, of course,

not the beauty salon type found locally. Those women changed their shade like

chameleons. This species was pure and untainted.

He couldn’t even remember her name after being introduced, so debilitating

was the spell she had cast upon him. He managed to take his seat finally, but

he was unable to comprehend any of the niceties flying around the table until

the Venus spoke to him directly.

“Are you alright, Renaldo? You seem a bit disoriented. Are you feeling

ill? Heaven knows that you have probably done a lifetime of celebrating in the

last few hours.”

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JAMES McCREATH

He could not speak. All he could do was gaze into her eyes. If her physical

appearance had been disarming, then her voice . . . her voice with that accent.

That was the thing that rendered him totally inanimate.

He had never in his life heard any sound so sweet. Even his English

grandmother did not possess such a melodious way of speaking. Years in

Argentina had diluted the pureness of her English resonance. This sound, the

sound of Mallory Russell’s voice, had the effect of a snake charmer’s flute, and

Renaldo De Seta was her hypnotized cobra.

“Waiter, a glass of water for Señor De Seta, quickly, please.”

Even though the English beauty spoke in her native tongue, a glass of

sparking ice water appeared in seconds.

“Take a drink, Renaldo. Do you wish to postpone our meeting until later

in the day?” Again he was mute, able only to hang on her every syllable and hope

that she would continue to speak to him with that wondrous air. It was Ramon

Vida’s crass whisper in Spanish that crash-landed his floating thoughts.

“Hey, man, what the fuck’s the matter with you? The lady is talking right

to you, and you sit there like your mind has turned to shit. Wake up or you’ll

blow this deal for both of us!” Renaldo shook his head and took a sip of the ice

water.

“I’m terribly sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. It’s just that I didn’t get much

sleep last night, and I guess I am a bit overwhelmed by everything that has

happened.”

“That’s alright, young man. You have every right to be overwhelmed.

For that matter, it would not be exaggerating to say that Mallory and I were

overwhelmed by the performances that you and Señor Vida put on at River

Plate yesterday. Don’t give it a second thought.” Reggie Russell smiled a fatherly

smile as Renaldo focused in on the Englishman for the first time.

Funny hair, has to be a wig!
the younger man thought.

“Thank you, sir. Your compliment is very gracious.”

Renaldo had responded in English, which would become the language of

choice at the table from that point on. Wolfgang Stoltz sat to Ramon Vida’s left

and acted as his translator for the balance of the meeting.

Astor Gordero had fallen abruptly silent after his opening salutations.
Did

Renaldo know about Lonnie’s now-confirmed demise? Was he about to expose this dark

secret? Everything would be lost if that were the case.

“What on earth is wrong with the boy, Wolfie? I have never seen him in

such a state,” an anxious Gordero finally asked his assistant. Stoltz’s two-word

reply put everything in perspective.

“The Lady!”

Now, reassured by this enlightenment and his client’s verbal pronouncement,

the host launched into a long-winded analysis of the championship game. That

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suited Renaldo perfectly, for it gave him the time he needed to collect his

thoughts and focus on the business at hand. It was an impatient Reginald

Russell that interrupted the corpulent lawyer to address the two younger

gentlemen.

“Yes, yes, Señor Gordero, your team did perform magnificently yesterday,

but I imagine that the young gentlemen would prefer that we get directly to

the point of this luncheon. Shall we then?”

Gordero was a man not accustomed to being interrupted, but he did find

one redeeming point in this inexcusable affront.

“By all means, Lord Russell. But you did mention the word luncheon, so

I suggest that we order first, then continue on with business. By now you know

that I have my little quirks about me, Sir, such as never discussing financial

matters on an empty stomach. Filmon, we will order at once!”

The captain was at The Fat Man’s side in the blink of an eye, while Sir

Reggie sat back in his chair, full of barely contained disgust. One could almost

see the steam emitting from the Englishman’s ears.

Go ahead, you fat bag of dung, stuff some more groceries down your oversized

gullet. Go on, do me a favor . . . eat until you explode,
he smoldered silently.

“Right, shall we get on with it then?” Lord Russell was quick to pick up

the ball as soon as the host had finished relaying his extensive gastronomic

wish list.

“Certainly, my Lord. Now I will be able to concentrate to the best of

my ability.” Gordero’s smile was self-indulgent. “As I told you previously, Lord

Russell, both of these gentlemen have received a copy of your signed contract

stating the terms and conditions of their proposed employment with the Canary

Wharf Football Club. As I now represent both Renaldo and Ramon in the

capacity of agent and attorney, I have been in a position to hold preliminary

meetings with them individually to explain the contractual details. I must add,

however, that there have been more pressing matters to attend to of late, but

now that the tournament has drawn to a successful conclusion, we are able to

turn our full attention to the future.” Gordero paused to catch his breath before

continuing.

“While the terms of both players’ contracts are identical, it is, of course,

up to each individual gentleman to decide if those terms are acceptable, and for

that matter, whether or not he chooses to go to England at all.”

There was an aloof matter-of-factness to the facilitator’s last statement

that brought Reggie Russell back to the point of boiling over, but one glance

at Mallory’s icy gaze convinced him to bite his lip one more time.