Again, that look in his eyes, again that winking.
The city rushed by the car windows. We travelled at cruising speed down a big highway. The favelas went on, then disappeared, and big buildings sprouted over the land.
We entered downtown Rio.
Chapter 4
Renato dropped me at the reception lobby of Praia Palace Hotel, one of the most luxurious hotels to face Copacabana Beach in Rio. Its pompous rooms had hosted many international personalities throughout the years.
After dropping me off, Renato took my suitcase out of the car trunk. The relaxed, careless aspect conveyed by his clothes seemed quite in tone with his mood, that of nice people to hang around with.
I thought Renato would immediately leave after putting my suitcase on the floor, but, he lingered a bit.
“I’m sorry if I bothered you, Senhora Bennet,” he said, looking down while handing me the suitcase.
“That’s okay, Renato. It’s been a long trip, and I’ve been easily creeped out lately. I’m sorry if I offended you with that . . . that nonsense”
“Oh, never mind. It’s not the first time someone asked me if I’m going to kill them.”
“What?” I said.
“I’m kidding,” he chuckled.
I smiled back, uncertain.
“Remember that short but intense life proportionate by drug money we talked about?”
“What about it?” I replied.
“It’s all about accepting high risks and living a good life. Quality over quantity. I mean, just another way of saying that I couldn’t be happier to have infringed your company security policies, Senhora Bennet. Sometime we ought to take risks. It was great talking to you.”
“Yeah, I... think I get what you mean,” I said looking straight into his eyes.
Under the sun they gleamed like caramel beads, a perfect match to his tanned skin. Renato was a complete stranger to me, yet he managed to step into my head and make a mess—a hot mess—in my mind.
“I hope we’ll see each other again, Senhora Bennet. Stay safe.”
“Goodbye, Renato.”
Without further delay, he turned his back on me and entered the black sedan. Then, he disappeared among the cars streaming both ways on Avenida Atlântica avenue.
That had been a pretty stupid start in Rio. I flew in to attend a conference and write about guns but ended up fearing for my life and fearing for my senses. I might have fallen into his arms to live a summer love.
Thank god I didn´t get his number.
The concierge carried my suitcase into the reception lobby of Praia Palace. The moment I stepped inside the luxury of the gold details etched into the furniture, tapestries of stout females made by the hands of long-dead Turkish experts, and a two-frame painting of the Courchevel mountains hanging on the wall—all hit my penniless eyes with a single merciless blow. The constant chatter of clerks only contributed to the opulence.
“What type of coffee do you enjoy the most, miss? Brazilian Arabic, Colombian Robusta? We’ve printed a wool towel with your name on it, Mrs. Emily Bennett. You can take it with you to the pool without worrying about someone else using it by mistake. Please, do not forget to order a Caipirinha in our restaurant, on the house. We make the best in the world.”
Yes, that kind of treatment came just in time.
When I turned my phone on, Joanne called me right away. I declined the call. I wasn’t in the mood to talk. I replied with, “I’m fine, already at the hotel. Call you later.”
I filled out some forms at the check-in desk on a marble balcony and went up to my room.
Chapter 5
Around 8:00 p.m., the images of my arrival in Rio lost most of their contrast up to the point of looking like a faded dream from last week. I didn’t need to rely on alcohol for that. After diving under a super hot shower, putting on the most luxurious silk bathrobe to ever have Emily Bennett’s name on it, and sinking into bedsheets labeled Angel’s Touch—it couldn’t be more appropriate—I sensed a tendency to overvalue all aspects of my life since stepping out of the airplane earlier that day.
Even my certainty of having been kidnapped made me laugh when I talked to Joanne over the phone. No need to dodge questions after drenching myself in cologne and cream. I was on the verge of returning Marlon’s call, though I resisted it. In my defense, fast sex was sex after all, and better a minute than none.
My job would start the next morning. Rio Firearms Expo was the place where ground-breaking technology and new products regarding law enforcement debuted. Armored personnel carriers, assault rifles, shotguns, flashbang grenades, pepper spray and a bunch of other weapons would be on display and have their triggers tested in front of attendees. My mission the following week would be to take notes of non-lethal weaponry, these seemed to be a growing trend among Johnson & Brothers Co.’s main clients.
It was the writing part of my job that made me cling to it—and the pay the bills part. I would find a greater sense of fulfillment if my job was to write about screws and nuts than about firearms. Because, in my eyes, every glistening pistol had a “I´ll shoot your brains out” stamp on its barrel.
I skimmed my hands over the Angel’s Touch sheets, the gentle scent of lily, and closed my eyes. Getting used to such an upscale establishment was too easy. After a couple of hours, Praia Palace had become my new lodging standard. Johnson & Brothers Co. better work their purses out if they are willing to see any of my future writing.
They were sheer gold--the bedsheets—and, maybe because of their softness, I felt at ease to wander through the more intricate aspects of life.
Deep inside my mind, I saw Renato’s
