A NEW DAY DAWNING

This story is by William Curry and was part of our 2024 Fall Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.

“Today, everything changes.”

“I know it will, Señor Bryce,” Carlita whispered, nibbling his ear.

From the veranda, the pair watched the sun awaken the vibrant desert landscape of the expansive estate. Bryce Vanderbilt inhaled the crisp, earthy air deep into his lungs, savoring the scent, because today, it smelled like victory!

He wrapped his arms around Carlita’s waist, pulled her in tight, and kissed her sensuous lips like his life depended on it for a full minute.

The rhythmic clicking of high heels approached the veranda, causing her to break lip-lock. “I must go,” she said. Carlita flicked her tongue at Bryce before darting into the hacienda without making a sound.

“Bryce?”

His wife’s strident voice could stop time itself, but never pleasantly.

“Yes, Hillary?”

“When are we leaving this postage stamp-size country?”

“Leave? You’re dripping diamonds and living a lavish lifestyle. Why do you want to leave?”

“Because it’s not enough.”

“We moved here to bond with your juvenile delinquent son, remember? A new start for us all.”

Hillary rolled her eyes. “No, we moved here because you wanted a second chance to play politics in a backward country and turn a peasant into a president. Hooray, you succeeded,” she mocked.

“Today, everything changes, Hillary, I promise.”

“So, we’re leaving?”

Bryce’s jaw tightened. “I can’t leave, because I’m pulling the strings!”

“You? No, you’re just a spoiled little brat with a magnifying glass, laying waste to an anthill.”

 “You don’t have to stay.”

“I’m already packed, Ant-man.” She marched back inside the hacienda, the heels of her Gucci sling-back pumps clicking behind her.

A dust plume appeared at the gate and trailed the Presidente’s entourage to the hacienda. Moments later, a servant escorted the party to the veranda.

“Paulo!”

“Señor Bryce!”

“We did it!” They hugged a moment, then separated. The new Presidente was shorter than most, so Bryce focused the campaign on Paulo’s engaging charisma. Becoming who he needed to be on demand was Paulo’s superpower.

“Bryce!” Hillary howled from the hacienda.

“Here we go, Paulo. Ready?”

“Of course, amigo.”

Hillary appeared in the doorway. “Bryce, where are they taking my son?”

“Good morning, Hillary,” Paulo said with practiced sincerity.

“Piss off, Paulo. Bryce, answer me. Where are they—”

“Military school.”

“What?” She clenched her teeth. “You decided this without me?”

“Yes, I did. I will no longer tolerate my stepson’s disrespect.”

A flurry of laser beams shot out of her eyes, but Bryce’s detachment deflected them all. “The people voted for reform, dear. Everyone must contribute to the common good…” He fluttered his fingers, and two bodyguards grabbed Hillary’s arms. “… which includes you. You’re assigned to the State work farm. Sorry, no jewelry or Gucci allowed. Good thing you’re already packed.”

“What? You can’t do this to me!” she screeched.

“Watch me, because today, everything changes.” He signaled the bodyguards, and they dragged Hillary, kicking and screaming, outside to a truck and drove her away. Bryce’s sigh released years of accumulated misery. “Finally, a fresh start.”

“For our country too, now that I am Presidente.” Paulo smiled, revealing the perfect teeth Bryce had paid for. “We will remember this day for the rest of our lives. Let’s celebrate!”

“You read my mind, Paulo. That’s why I purchased this certified bottle of 1762 Gautier Cognac.”

Paulo wrinkled his brow. “Bottled in 1762? Is it still good?”

Paulo’s ignorant comment amused Bryce as he opened the 262-year-old cognac and filled their snifters. “To a new day dawning!” Bryce swirled the cognac in his glass. “Allow it to breathe a moment to release the flavor that’s been locked away—”

Paulo slammed the rare spirit like a Jello shot, making Bryce wince.

“Oooh, this cognac is outstanding! How much did it cost?”

“Paulo, please, it’s impolite to ask.”

“Indulge me, my friend. How much?”

“$150,000.”

“For this little bottle? I must have another glass!”

Bryce grimaced and poured another slug for his boorish figurehead. He had to endure the uncultured peasant until the secret ‘coup’ took place in six months… maybe sooner. A second dust plume caught Bryce’s attention. “Who’s that?” he asked, handing Paulo the refilled glass.

Paulo downed the cognac in a single gulp and said, “Your movers.”

The snifter slipped from Bryce’s fingers and shattered on the terra-cotta floor.

“Oh, my friend, how careless of you. Your clumsiness cost what? $20,000? Such a waste.”

“Movers? I don’t understand.”

“You said it yourself; all must contribute. You… shall contribute your estate.”

“I never agreed to that!”

Paulo cocked an eyebrow and reached for the cognac, pouring himself a third round. “Would you like another? Forgive me, that was rude. Your glass is broken.” He gestured a toast. “To the new Presidente!”

“Who do you think you are, Paulo?”

He locked eyes and drank the cognac in one extended sip. “I already said it, the new Presidente. Who are you?”

“The fixer! The only reason you won this election is because I rigged it with millions of my dollars!”

Paulo grinned. “That is why we are good friends!”

Bryce scowled and whipped out his cellphone. “I’m calling my lawyer.” He tapped the screen, but it remained blank.

“You have no service, amigo.” Paulo chugged the cognac straight from the bottle without breaking eye contact.

Hackles raised on Bryce’s neck.

Paulo produced a premium cigar from his pocket, puffed it to life, blew an immense cloud of pale smoke, then whispered to a large bodyguard. The man nodded and entered the hacienda with purpose.

“We seized your assets this morning. It is unfair for a single man to possess such wealth. All this…” He swept his arm in a wide arc, “… now belongs to the State. Which is… me.”

Full realization smacked Bryce in the face as the new king deposed the kingmaker.

“Señor Bryce, you look puzzled. Did you think you would be part of the ruling class?”

“I thought—”

“That you could pull my strings? I am no puppet, amigo. You were just a useful idiot with money. And now, you are guilty of tax evasion.”

“What?”

“You did not pay the 10% tax on the extraordinary cognac and cheated the State out of $15,000. That is a grave offense, my friend.” He hurled the empty bottle on the floor, sending shards of centuries old glass toward Bryce’s feet.

“You’ve only been in power for two hours!”

Paulo burst out laughing. “Señor Bryce, I am kidding! I dismiss your tax evasion charge! You should see you face, amigo!”

“Oh Paulo, you really had me going!”

The bodyguard returned, carrying an exquisitely engraved 28-gauge double-barreled shotgun, as a sneer slithered onto Paulo’s face and took up residence.

“Oooh, Señor Bryce, is that a… firearm?”

“That’s the shotgun you gave me. Why?”

“Ah, you admit it is yours. That burdens my heart, my friend, because guns are illegal in this country.”

“Since when?”

“I banned all guns this morning… except mine, of course.” Paulo curried his pencil-thin mustache. “I cannot overlook your second felony offense, my friend. The penalty for possessing a firearm is… death by firing squad. That’s funny, yes?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Señor Bryce, you are untrustworthy. You are a self-absorbed rich man who betrayed his own family. Who knows, you might betray me next.”

“I’d never do that!”

“Ah, but you might, my friend. Men, tie this guilty criminal to that cactus.”

Two bodyguards seized Bryce and dragged him to the towering saguaro cactus thirty yards away.

“You can’t do this to me!”

“Watch me, because today, everything changes.” Paulo inspected the shotgun’s intricate engraving. “Oooh, I gave you a nice one… but I must confiscate it… you know, as a memento of our friendship.”

Carlita glided onto the veranda, bringing four boxes of shotgun ammunition to Paulo. “Gracias, Chica.” He wrapped one arm around her and pulled her in close. She flashed a shrewd smile at Bryce, then gave Paulo an enthusiastic kiss on the lips.

Bryce gasped. “You’re kidding me! She’s with you?”

“Yes, amigo, and she tells me everything. Did you tell her I am… nothing without you?”

“That’s not—”

“Silencio!” He glared at Bryce, then smiled at Carlita. “I will thank you later, my love. Now, please go back inside.”

“No, Paulo, you promised I could watch, remember?”

“Oooh, you are correct. If you do not mind the blood, you may stay.”

“I don’t mind at all,” she purred.

Paulo shifted his attention to Bryce. “I told you we would remember this day, did I not?”

“Why are you doing this?”

The pint-sized despot puffed his cigar a moment and said, “Because… amigo… I do not trust you… and I will no longer tolerate your arrogant disrespect.”

“Paulo, I’m sorry!”

… Paulo opened the action…

“You can’t be serious!”

…loaded the firearm…

“Stop!”

… snapped the shotgun closed…

“Paulo!”

… aimed the gun at Bryce…

“Please!”

“Bad news, my friend. This ammunition barely kills sparrows, so… this might take a while…”