They Call Me...Montey Greene

Chapter Forty Nine

"I CAN'T believe I was such an idiot."

"Ain't no sense beating yourself up over it. Just imagine how you would feel if you were contractually married to the guy and had kids already? Now that would have been some hard shit to swallow."

The news Gerald just dumped on Alejandra sent shock waves vibrating through her very being. She paced back and forth like a trapped animal in a cage trying to figure a way out. "I can't believe Gerald would deceive me like that. Me, of all people. From grade school up until a few moments ago he was practically like a brother to me."

When she tried to run back in the building to confront her childhood friend again Montey stopped her.

"No-no-no. That's not going to solve anything, at least not tonight it won't."

"You heard what Gerald said. He was swapping for personal use and then—"

"And you also said he was on special assignment. A man in his position, I bet he can get his hands on whatever narcotics he wants. It's probably for his case. Now Gerald on the other hand—"

"Gerald what?"

"Nothing. Forget it."

There were enough words behind the look Alejandra shot Montey that none needed to come from her mouth. Then she abruptly took out her frustration on the pavement as she stormed off.

It was a beautiful summer night and even though it was well past the witching hour there were still throngs of people about, especially down by the river where onlookers were waving and shouting back at the party-boats that were cruising up the Seine.

Montey's head was on a swivel as he called behind her, "You're not gonna wait for the car to come back?"

She just marched on, beating up the sidewalk with her shoes as she tossed her hair back and shouted over her shoulder, "I'd rather walk. I can use the air. I can't believe I was such an idiot," she repeated.

Reluctantly, Montey found himself sprinting to catch up to her. "Look, I'm just playing devil's advocates, tryin' to give both Paolo and Gerald the benefit of the doubt," he assured her.

"Gerald is not a drug dealer," the pissed off Colombian woman said defiantly.

Her accent came across thicker than Montey had ever heard it since he'd met her months ago. Reminded him of his wife Patricia. When that Latin blood got to boiling it could be like trying to use a wet sponge to put out an erupting volcano. "I didn't say he was," he countered hoping that would calm her down somewhat.

But Alejandra was on a roll. "He's your typical jet setting playboy," she continued. "However tacky and tasteless that sounds, he is what he is. A spoiled rich kid. Heir to a shipping fortune. That's how we met. His father and my father have been doing business together since we were crawling in cribs."

"Sex. Drugs. Rock-n-Roll. I get it." Montey paused. "You should call Paolo like your boy said and see what he has to say for himself. Not about Gerald, just about how disappointed you are that he couldn't make your show. See what he has to say for himself."

Alejandra just marched on.

"I'm just sayin'. Give him the benefit of the doubt. He seems like a smart guy, and you don't seem like the type who would date a knucklehead. I mean it's like you said back at your boy's spot, it would be pretty dumb to throw away his career like that. Hell, he could be waiting for you at the hotel when we get back for all you know."

"What did you say to Gerald when I got up from the table and left?"

"That I hoped he liked the way ass taste 'cause he was gonna be doin' a whole lotta suckin' up."

Alejandra smiled, and then outright chuckled.

Montey was relieved until that car jumped the curb.