Sweet Temptation

Ricardo I was at home, winding down in the library when my cell rang; I didn't need to look at the name to know who was calling me this time of night. "Hijo," dad slurred as I picked up the phone. "Pa. You should be sleeping." He chuckled, the same way he did whenever I told him to rest. "So, should you. It's past one. Anyway, I am in bed. I just wanted to remind you about tomorrow. The meeting." I dipped my head. "Sure, no worries. Hasta mañana." "Buenas Noches." Those were his last words before hanging up the phone. I looked at my Rolex and realized he was right; it was late, and not only should he be in bed, but so should I. Friday night, we had the same conversation for our meeting on Saturdays. We would have breakfast together in his sun lounge or sometimes in the garden, depending on the weather. The topics were always the same: How much money was owed to us? Who needed to be put in line. What was working well? In our business, this was a rarity. We tended to brush over anyone who fell into a category three, knowing this status could change overnight. In just a week, someone might transition to a category two, and would become an issue we needed to take care of. I knew he had his usual shot, most likely before hitting the sack; I did the same thing. But I didn't keep the glass by my bed. Nah, I would have it in the study and then walk up the stairs; sometimes, just that much would tire me out a little more. The s**t had been hitting the fan lately. One day, I would take over the Empire, and dad claimed he had faith in me, but at times I did question it. We both had our own teams for different reasons; he was full of old-timers just passing on their duties to their sons, whereas my team consisted of five of us who worked together to get the job done. I would head up the stairs, strip off my suit as if it was on fire, and then plunge into my bed in my birthday suit. The same thing I did every night. I didn't f*****g worry about someone coming into my room. No one did; no one f*****g dared. Not only because it was my room, but even my dad said the room freaked him out. My room was what I pictured hell to be like, red and black filled with my interpretation of evil. Demons didn't consist of ugly animals with horns on their heads like the stupid movies painted them to be, no, it would be the complete opposite. Hell would have the most beautiful men and women, marveling in their fate, which was the part my room fell under. The ugliness of it all, beauty on the outside, but inside, the real cruelty. The Carcass by Agostino Venezianohas was painted on my ceiling. It reflected the evil in the world today, the cruelty of men and women against everyone they deemed to be beneath them. It symbolized my world, the darkness my family belonged to, and how we treated others. We used them, did cruel things to them to get whatever we wanted. The walls had paintings by The Garden of Earthly Delights, a demonstration of our world today, even if it was painted in the fifteenth century. A world had succumbed to the temptations of evil and was reaping eternal damnation. The panel featured cold colors, and the nakedness of the human figures had nothing to do with erotica but highlighted the temptations man seeks. The darkness in this room was a reflection of the man who resided within it. The man who bathed naked in the bathroom and slept in this bed. I had never seen goodness in anyone and knew I would fail to do so in the future. I closed my eyes, thinking about who will have to be killed or taught a lesson tomorrow. For now, all I could do was feel the effects of Louis XIII, my favorite liquor was taking its tow on my body. Tomorrow would be another day, not a brighter one, just another one filled with darkness.