First Class Stamp by Aj Harmon Page B

but it was worth it – no angry mob and no
bricks.
    Attempting to calm her nerves, she made herself a Caipirinha,
Brazilian rum and lime, and sat on the small front patio of her home waiting
for signs of Luca. He had soccer practice after school for an hour so she
expected him within a few minutes. He would be surprised to see her home and
she needed to somehow tell him the truth without raising any suspicion or
worry.
    Sipping on her drink, she closed her eyes and took long,
deep breaths, eventually calming her nerves. As suspected, Luca was slowly
walking towards the house, kicking at the dirt on the side of the road with
each step. His eyes were looking down and his shoulders slumped. He turned onto
the narrow brick path that led to their neighbor’s front door, the same route
he took every day after school.
    “Luca!” Maria yelled, waving at her boy.
    His head whipped up and his face showed instant surprise at
seeing his mother. It also revealed blood. Maria slammed her glass down on the
small table in front of her and raced towards her son.
    “It’s okay mama,” he said.
    “What happened?” she cried.
    “I fell.”
    “You fell or you were pushed?”
    Luca shrugged his shoulders.
    Maria’s heart broke. Ben was right. He was thousands of
miles away and he knew more about Luca than she did. Doing her best to remain
calm, she placed her arm gently around his shoulders and said, “Come on. Let’s
get you cleaned up and you can tell me what happened.”
    *****
    “Our building is not for sale,” Ben repeated forcefully into
the telephone receiver. He’d read the faxed letter from Maria and had called
the man who’d sent it – Vicente Rivera of Latin World Corporation.
    “I make you a generous offer,” Vicente replied. “Under the
circumstances, I doubt you will get an offer half as good as this one.”
    “It makes no difference to me what the offers are,” Ben
remained firm. “The building is not for sale.”
    “You may live to regret this Mr. Lathem. Soon, you may not
have a building to sell.”
    “Are you threatening me?”
    “Not at all. I just mean to say that the protestors are unpredictable
and you cannot know what they do next,” he said in his thick Portuguese accent.
    “I’ll demolish the building first,” Ben muttered under his
breath. “I think we’ll go with risking it,” Ben said to him.
    “Very well, but I ask you to reconsider. At least take it to
your brothers. I know you do not have the final say.”
    Ben said a curt goodbye and hung up the phone.
    “Matt is here,” came his secretary’s voice through the
intercom. “He’s in his office.”
    Of course he’s in his office , Ben thought. Because
he’s still the boss even though I do all the work. I have to go to him. Once
I’d like him to condescend to my office! But he stood and picked up the two
faxes from his desk and strode down the hall to the opened door. Matt was
pouring himself a drink and looked up as Ben entered the room.
    “Want one?” he asked.
    Ben nodded. He could use a stiff drink right about now. He
walked over and took the leaded crystal tumbler from Matt and the two men sat
on opposite sides of the coffee table, each on their own couch.
    “Mark isn’t back from Puerto Rico,” Matt said. He sat back
into the rich leather sofa. He lifted his right leg and placed his ankle on his
left knee and took a long sip of the gin. He was in khaki shorts and flip flops
with a white polo shirt. There appeared to be jam…or ketchup on the sleeve.
    “Sorry I had to interrupt your day,” Ben offered. “But I
didn’t think this could wait.”
    “No,” Matt shook his head. “It can’t. Tell me exactly what
happened.”
    So Ben went back to the previous Friday and the letter from
Luca and the email he’d sent to Maria and then hit all the highlights of today,
including his loss of control with Patrick.
    “Understandable,” Matt nodded. “But absolutely avoidable.
This whole damn thing.