#[kass bio/narrative]

[kassia-ortiz]

“Let me be clear -- I'm no politician. Like most of you, I come from nothing. And I know what it means to be powerless,” the sound of my father’s voice on the television caught my attention, forcing me to look up from my laptop. There he was; in the middle of some interview for one of the more popular San Juan news outlets, dripping in machismo and dressed in overpriced Brioni...lying his fucking ass off.

“My campaign for governor is about restoring the power to you, the people of Puerto Rico, and taking it out of the hands of the thugs that are destroying the very fabric of our society..” he droned on as I continued to watch his first on-air interview since announcing his intent to run. I glanced behind where I sat on the couch to throw Mateo, the man in charge of my protection while in the city, the deepest eye roll I could muster. “Can you believe him?” I questioned incredulously, though I knew there would be no response. He wasn’t allowed to speak to me unnecessarily. I continued to watch in silence, trying to ignore my internal anger at his blatant arrogance and quell it by keeping my retorts to myself. “...and robbing our children’s future. We all know who I’m talking about - the cartels.” You mean you. “If elected, my promise to you is this: I will track down every drug dealer, every gang banger, every smuggler. I will find every stash house and burn it to the ground." There's no way people are going to buy this shit.

"That's quite a promise," the interviewer cut in with a disbelieving tone, causing me to look up again, ready to see if he had it in him to call my father on his crap. "And I must admit your story is one for the books. Born the son of a farmer, starting his own local produce company and turning it into a thriving international export business." Here I couldn't stop the second eye roll. "In regards to your past though, I'm sure you're aware of the allegations of your direct involvement in the drug trade." There you go. Let's see him dance his way around that. 

"Nothing could be farther from the truth," my father replied without missing a beat, "My opponents have spread lies about me in an attempt to make me look just like them - dirty. Hiding behind the masks of politicians. But the voters know that these are just lies." You mean you pay them to believe the lies. "They are looking for a man of the people, to put an end to these corrupt politicians who for too long have turned a blind eye, in favor of these cartels. They want a man who doesn't just make promises, but a man of his word. Ortiz is a--" The sound of his voice cut out as soon as I shut down the television. I couldn't listen to anymore of the hypocrisy.

But almost as though he could read my mind all the way from San Juan, my phone began to ring with my father’s face filling the screen. As much shit as I was just talking about him in my head, I still answered before the third ring - a rule of his for me since I got my first cellphone. And if there's one thing my father is especially skilled at, it's demanding obedience. "Yes, I saw the interview," I immediately said as my way of a greeting, "And yes, I remember the meeting tonight. You don't need to call and remind me before every one."

"If I don’t call to remind you that your entire college tuition and fancy New York apartment can be easily stripped away," his tone dripped with condescension, knowing full well that I was on the other end, seething, "You won't perform your job to the best of your abilities. Don't fuck this up, Kassia. Our shipments have been coming in light and I fully expect you to deliver those responsible to me by tomorrow. Me entiendes?"

"Si, Papa, I understand," I agreed, wanting to get him off the phone, tired of biting my tongue, "Mateo is already fetching the car. I'll call with an update after." I hung up before he could say anything else. By that point, Mateo was looking at me with confusion but I still got up to get dressed. Forever obedient. We were out the door half an hour later, my face fully made up and my outfit carefully chosen to make me seem more like I knew what I was doing. As if the right blazer was going to make me feel more like the daughter of a cartel jefé or instill in me the hunger for violence these meetings seemed to require.

"The rest of the men are on standby at the warehouse," came Mateo's strong baritone once we were in the quiet, blacked out SUV. I gave him a nod of acknowledgement in the rearview mirror as he reached back to hand me my handgun of choice - a sleek SIG Sauer pistol given to me by my father when I was fifteen. You know, a normal gift for a girl of that age. I slipped it into the holster I wore under my jacket and sat back as the vehicle pulled into the road. "Don't forget we need to pick up my quality control," I directed him offhandedly, already sending the warning text. My eyes watched the people on the sidewalks as we drove through the city, envying the mundane lives they all led as I prepared myself mentally to play the role of the woman I was destined to be. The one controlling the entire east coast distribution of my father’s cocaina empire.

A destiny I never asked for.

#[kass bio/narrative]