David Unger - The Mastermind

By noon, Guillermo is in a panic. He wishes there was a way to retrieve the text he has sent and that he had called Araceli instead for an after-work rendezvous. Why hasn’t she answered him? Has he offended her? Is she on the tennis court?

He decides to text Araceli and hopefully hook up with her at the Stofella for a quick lunch fuck. He hears back from her immediately that she will be at the hotel at one.

Perfect , he answers her, and then he calls Rosa Esther. The maid answers the house phone. “Tell the lady of the house that I won’t be coming home for lunch today.”

“Yes sir.”

“I have an emergency meeting. And I will be coming home late tonight. Please tell her that,” he adds as an afterthought, not knowing why the maid needs to know this.

“Would you like to tell her yourself, Don?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

As soon as he says this Rosa Esther gets on the line. “Lucia has prepared veal Milanese and buttered potatoes,” she says rather abruptly.

“I really can’t make it. Sorry. Enjoy it.”

“You know I’m eating vegetarian.”

“Of course. You had her make that veal for me. Thank you, but I’ll have to take a rain check.” He is so distracted. “How are you?” he asks, as if talking to a distant relative.

“What’s wrong with you, Guillermo? Do you know who you’re talking to?”

“Of course. Sorry. I’ve been extremely busy this morning. How was the French conversation class today?”

“You know my teacher is a bore. She loves to tell us how fatigu é she always is. Everything has to do with quel dommage .”

“Yes,” he says. “I know she only talks about herself.”

“That’s it. How great Paris is, blah, blah. As if we’re all Indians living in the cornfields.”

“So, why not tell her?” He wants to get off the phone but feels these questions will earn him points.

“What for? Madame Raccah is oblivious. I can understand exactly what she is saying, but Claudia keeps interrupting her to ask her to repeat everything because she can’t follow the dialogue. After class she told me she’s going to drop French. I don’t know if I want to study alone. Claudia wants to start taking Pilates with me.”

“What’s Pilates?” Guillermo asks, wondering if it is some kind of Italian dialect.

“It’s an exercise. I’ve been doing it the past five years at the Pomona. How can you not remember?”

“Like yoga?”

“It supposedly tones your muscles and enhances flexibility,” she answers flatly.

Guillermo sees his cell phone vibrating on his desk and looks down. He unlocks his phone and reads a new text: I thought you’d never ask .

Without thinking, Guillermo looks up at the ceiling, smiles, and says, “Yes!”

“Did you just win the lottery or something?” Rosa Esther asks.

“I’ve been courting a new client for some time and he has just decided to go with our firm. This could be lucrative. I have to go, amor.”

“Well, good luck, Guillermo,” she says, and surprises him by blowing a kiss into the phone. He should feel guilty about all his maneuvering, but he doesn’t. He has successfully managed to compartmentalize his life to the point that his own wife accepts all his cubby holes as normal.

As soon as Guillermo hangs up, he texts Maryam.

What about today? Now.

Are you joking, Guillermo?

What about tomorrow?

Instantly he receives a text back: I can’t.

He is beginning to feel annoyed, the I-call-the-shots annoyance. He is about to tap out Let’s forget it! when he receives, I’m free Friday.

Your apt at noon ? he answers.

??????????

Where then?

Better at a restaurant .

La Hacienda Real ?

No! 2 many people. The Centro Vasco at 1 .

See you there. And then .

;-*

* * *

Guillermo drives to meet Araceli at the Stofella singing the Cuban bolero “Dos gardenias para ti.” He feels almost childishly elated. It has not been as easy as he imagined, and her spunk makes her even more sexy. Clearly, though, Maryam is sweet on him. There’s no other explanation. She has been bold, what with her What took you so long? or I thought you’d never ask. Which was it? He can’t remember, but either way she has taken the bait. Still, he has the nagging feeling that he needs to change his way of thinking from She has taken the bai t to She wants to see me . She is a woman with her own thoughts and resources, not a stupid fish.

So he must wait three days to finally be alone with Maryam. Almost an eternity. And he is not about to change his routine based on the supposition of what might or might not happen in three day’s time.

He receives a text back from Araceli saying she is running a few minutes late. Normally he would be angry at her lack of planning, but he is so excited to see her that as he walks into the Stofella he trips on the front steps and almost falls. The clerk at reception gives him the key for his reserved room: number 314, top floor, at the end of the hall, away from the elevator, with no connecting door and only one neighbor.

He lies in bed wearing only his underwear. He knows that he and Araceli are going to have a grand time. He will fuck her hard, really hard, and will imagine he is fucking Maryam for the first time.

The Centro Vasco is an old Basque restaurant on Reforma Boulevard that had its heyday in the sixties when everyone acknowledged that it was the best restaurant in all of Guatemala City. Now, in 2008, it is a place for viejos rucos — old codgers — who are still impressed by waiters in tight black jackets, white long-sleeve shirts with cuff links, string ties, black vests, and matching shiny pants. There are little ceramic oil and vinegar sets on the starched white tablecloths, and furniture that is meant to be Spanish but has actually been transported from a San Marcos province farmhouse. The salt and pepper shakers are Tyrolean, made of wood, and have cranks.

It is actually an ideal place for them to meet for lunch because no one Maryam or Guillermo knows would eat there now, with so many new gourmet options in Guatemala. The paella is overcooked and salty, the cod tastes like clods of white flour, and the oily red peppers that the restaurant had once been famous for taste artificial, straight from a bottle. Maybe the restaurant has never been good and had only been a kind of novelty of Spanish cuisine back when going out to eat in Guatemala City meant hamburgers, steak, or an occasional chapin meal.

* * *

Friday is a lugubrious day, with low clouds and a constant cold rain. Guillermo pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant and scans the entrance for valet service since he has forgotten to bring an umbrella. Instead he sees a handful of cars in the dirt lot. He is sure that one of them is Maryam’s since he is — at least according to plan — ten minutes late, and he expects her to be like her father, who is very punctual.

He parks his BMW next to a blue Hyundai Accent whose chassis is half underwater. There’s a man sitting in the car texting on his phone. When Guillermo opens his car door, their eyes meet momentarily.

As Guillermo steps out, his shoes sink into a puddle of mud, which rises over his soles. He walks to the entrance door on his heels, pulling up his pants legs, cursing the weather, the choice of restaurant, the lack of valet service. . He hates not having everything under his control. Before pulling back the restaurant’s heavy door, he wipes his shoes clean on the towels piled high on the entrance mat.