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“Please,” he spoke in a soft voice, hoping his friend’s sympathy would cloud his judgment. They ate dinner earlier, Sergio was away somewhere in the house, probably looking over his notes and books for the hundredth time. Now was the time to talk. Privately.
“Martín,” Andrés began with a smile, getting up from his chair, “ How many times have you asked me this?”
“Every single time you went since we met.”
“And how many times have I refused?”
“All of them.” Andrés’s smile changed, lost a bit of its warmth, and maybe gained some condescension.
“I don’t need any help, especially on this one, it’s an easy job.”
“Hm? What is it?” Martín asked with curiosity, trying to mask his eagerness. Andrés retrieved a folded piece of paper from his jacket’s inner pocket.
“A private collection, one jewel. It’s called The Heart of Japan.”
Martín took the paper and opened it to reveal a picture of a beautiful construction. A roughly anatomically correct translucent stone resembling a heart, with small pinkish shapes inside of it, curling in many directions. He also couldn’t not notice how the paper smelled like his friend’s cologne. Beautifully.
“It’s like a sculpture,” he said in awe.
“Because it is a sculpture.” Andrés came closer and stretched his arm around Martín’s shoulders, then pulled slightly towards himself to deepen the friendly embrace. “Made out of jewels - white and pink diamonds to be exact. The pink ones are supposed to imitate cherry blossom petals.”
“Why is it not in Japan?”
“Spanish artist, Spanish gallery,” he responded, turning his head towards Martín who could smell on his breath the sweetness of the desert they ate earlier, “and now a Spanish private owner. Supposedly anonymous but no one is anonymous in our circle.” Andrés smiled beautifully and was reciprocated. “So like I said. Easy one-man job, no need to come with me.” He clapped Martín’s shoulder as to say that the decision’s been made, then let go.
“On every ‘tough group job’, you told me off because they were too dangerous for my lack of experience. How else can I get it, if not starting on easy jobs?” Martín spread his arms, ready to be defeated but still taking his chances. “Andrés,” he pleaded, “Please. Just this once.”
***
“So,” Andrés asked in a beautifully fake kind tone, “who ratted me out?”
Martín managed to get a good look at the situation from one of the crystal mirrors on the wall. The Owner behind him, who was currently holding him at gunpoint, raised his left hand and put over his mouth with thumb around his nose, then sniffed once.
Corners of Andrés’s mouth came up a tiny bit and it was difficult to call it a smile since the rest of his face emanated pure fury. “Emilio.” His voice became low and raspy. Emilio was an information broker. Martín remembered him sniffing lots of tobacco.
“Well, it seems like you just can’t trust people to act decently anymore,” The Owner said, sarcasm leaking out of his mouth.
“I’m going to enjoy breaking his legs,” Martín let out quietly between breaths.
“You won’t be breaking anyone’s legs.” He felt the barrel nudge the back of his head. “I’m still thinking whether or not I’m going to let you live.”
Andrés took a cautious breath. “Now look, I’m sure we can-”
“Alright, I’ve made my mind. On your knees, both of you.”
Andrés very slowly started lowering himself, his eyes locked tight with Martín’s who, despite fear racing his heartbeat, was not moving.
“I’ve said ON. YOUR. KNEess……”
The gunshot right beside Martín’s ear flooded his head with ringing pain. His body folded in half and fell onto the hardwood floor like a destroyed house of cards. He knew he was yelling but he couldn’t even hear his own scream. A warm liquid started pouring down his face and it tasted like copper in his mouth.
Andrés felt his body getting instinctively pulled towards Martín but The Owner’s gun quickly reminded him to follow the logic. Not heart.
“That was quite unnecessary,” Andrés spat out. He didn’t normally kill people, he preferred to have someone beat them up and leave tied in some closet, but this man… he was going to murder him. He kept looking up, trying his best not to focus on Martín lying wounded on the floor.
“You breaking into my house was quite unnecessary,” The Owner mocked, then took a couple of calming breaths, “I apologize, I am a man of a short temper. You two don’t seem like some random people who teamed up to steal my jewel. Who are you? Brothers? No, you don’t look like brothers, besides I’m sure I’d hear about you working with a brother. You work alone or in a team. Friend, then?”
Martín’s grunts of pain morphed into quick breaths, every one of them ended with a quiet whine. He was still laying on the floor, clutching at his head and not moving, apart from the trembles on his back. The Owner looked into Andrés’s darkened eyes before responding.
“No, not friends either. Judging by your expression, I’m guessing maybe a special friend? Like Bonnie and Clyde. Which one of you is Bonnie?”
“Andrés,” Martín whined in a half present voice, and then repeated, and again, and again. He was curled up into a fetal position, facing toward Andrés and away from the owner. Despite his tone, his face showed deep anger, and then, just as their gazes locked again, he… winked.
“Pathetic,” The Owner said, then took a step closer to Andrés. Fingers on Martín’s head moved cautiously and showed four of them. Well, number four it is. “So, Andrés.” The Owner smiled disgustingly. “I’m guessing that’s you.”
“You guessed correctly.” He broke eye contact with Martín to set it up with the gunman and then reciprocated the expression. He had to get all of The Owner’s attention.
Martín could see his friend talking but couldn’t hear it. The ringing in his ear was so overwhelming it was blurring his vision. The blood coming down his neck and face was at the same time warm and freezing, but he tried to fully focus on The Owner’s movements. Plan number four.
He was moving backward very slowly, crawling on the elegant floor. Just to take these couple of centimeters from the corner of The Owner’s eye. Andrés was still talking, on his knees, his eyes locked tight on the gunman’s. After he managed to even his breath, he started going up, steadily, calmly. Andrés laughed about something, which seemed to anger The Owner even more - he took another step away from Martín and waved his gun around.
He must have made a sound. Maybe the floorboards creaked, maybe his clothes rustled. The Owner turned, immediately firing. Well, good thing Martín couldn’t hear that one. Just as he saw the movement, he ducked quickly further behind The Owner’s back and kicked the back of his left knee with full force. Bad thing he couldn’t hear this one.
The Owner cried in pain, falling to his other knee, just in time for Andrés to bring him down to the ground. He went hard on him. Punch after punch, The Owner’s face more resembled the strawberry dessert they ate earlier than a human, and the blows still haven’t stopped. They were only halted by Martín’s hand, gently catching Andrés’s. The gun was left on the elegant floorboards, it wasn’t needed anymore.
When got into the car waiting for them with the jewel in Martín’s hands, they both became overwhelmed by euphoria. All of that adrenaline made their heads swim and their laughter was surely heard from behind the driver’s window blinds.
Andrés laid one of his hands on the jewel - the other held gently Martín’s face. Before either could say anything, he moved forward to smash their lips against each other, still smiling. The kiss made their minds come down to earth.
Andrés sighed, “I still can’t believe you managed to talk me into this. I think I’m falling in love with you, my friend.”
Martín hasn’t responded. He just kept looking at him, seemingly confused, focused on his lips but clearly not thinking about their kiss.
“Martín?” he asked with concern.
“Anes, Ah ill can ear anythi…”