The Devil's Plaything

I fly through two songs before the door opens and my boss walks into the store. He’s smiling from ear to ear when I glance up, his face lit by happiness.

“Sofía,” he calls to me as he enters, setting his briefcase on the desk. “I’ve found a wonderful student. She’ll be coming in to help when you go to school.” I told him two weeks ago that I want to study in America. My father, even though he doesn’t want me to go and will attempt to stop me, can’t deny it will be good for my future career. I’ve wanted to study music and going to New York would be a life changing move.

At first, I wanted to stay home and look after papá, but when the scholarship was granted, I knew I had to make a move. I had to leave here before I ended up in a dead-end job. Even though papá has pleaded with me to stay local, I can’t help the wanderlust that drives me each day.

I know he can tell when he looks at me that his little girl is growing up. I’m becoming a woman and he doesn’t have a choice any longer. He’s going to have to support me. I know my mother would’ve wanted it, she always told me to fly like a bird. My mother was a free spirit, someone who could easily pack her bags and head out onto the long empty road.

“That’s great, Mr. Hernandez,” I tell him with a smile. “Someone came by looking for you.” My words give him pause. “A man in an expensive suit. He didn’t say who he was, just walked out after I told him you were away.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it.” He waves me off, seemingly not too bothered by the stranger’s visit. “Tomorrow, we will have a client come for the piano.” He rushes into the back office, then comes flying out and hands me a cloth and waves his hands about. “Clean, girl, we need it shining. The man is one of the most important in this country.”

“What?” I sound like a dumbfounded imbecile when I realize he may be talking about the one man I hate. The only man who can instill cold fear inside my veins.

“Mr. Cordero, he is coming for the piano.” He seems excited, happy even, that the Devil of Colombia is going to be in his store. I’m not working tomorrow, thankfully, but the thought of my father’s boss walking into my safe space puts me on edge.

While I shine the instrument, I wonder what he’s going to use it for. It’s stupid, I mean, what else would someone use a piano for? To play music. But I can’t see how a man like him would even enjoy music, or anything that resembles something normal.

Once I’m finished, I rise from where I’m kneeling on the floor, placing the cloth on the desk, and make my way to the back to let my boss know I’m leaving. As soon as I step out of the store moments later, I feel the sweat trickling down my spine, causing me to shiver. Even under the heat of the setting sun, I know it’s not the only reason I feel uncomfortable.

5

Victor

There have been many times I wondered what it would be like to have a normal life. Perhaps to live in another country, to spend time with a woman who loves me, rather than one who fucks me as payment for her husband not returning the loan he’d begged me for. There are times I think about how it would feel to not be the most feared man in Colombia, but then I laugh because I know I’d never be able to live that life.

I am proud of who I am. And I never regret the things I do because that’s the way I’ve been taught. My father made sure I learned that guilt and regret are two emotions I never fall prey to.

Today, I have a job. One that requires me to make sure the man in question learns his lesson for trying to steal from me. When someone encroaches on my territory, they pay dearly. They pay with limbs, and some are tortured for a long while before they pay with their lives.

My men lead me through the empty parking lot, flanking me in the event one of my enemies makes an attempt on my life. They watch me diligently. It’s what I pay them for. Pulling out a cigar, I snip off the tip and place the fat stick between my lips. One of my bodyguards flicks a lighter, ensuring the cherry burns bright red before killing the flame.

Inhaling a thick drag of the intoxicating nicotine, I smile as they jerk open the heavy metal doors of the warehouse as I near it. The screech of wheels at the bottom of the door that haven’t been oiled in years is the only sound besides the screaming from inside the building.