The Family: Chapter 3: What Lies Beneath

The deeper you go, the harder it is to escape.

Chapter 3: What Lies Beneath

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Cartagena Suite 🎵🎵▶️

34 Carrera 5, El Centro, Cartagena de Indias, Bolívar, Colombia

I stepped off of the storied cobblestoned streetscape of Carrera 5 in the beating heart of Cartagena’s Old City and into the monolithic, old-world Hotel Casa Carolina. As Carrera 5 faded away behind me I could still hear the distant trilling of bells on horse-drawn carriages, vendors catcalling tourists and the sweet scents of pipe tobacco lingering in the balmy tropical air that was hot, sticky and verged on feeling oppressive.

Inside the Casa Carolina meanwhile, everything felt the opposite of oppressive, the lobby of this old-world mansion turned hotel was lush, comfortable and elegantly appointed - it looked like a place Hemingway may have sought refuge at one point in his life to crank out a hearty novel full of complicated characters with colorful attributes.

The interior courtyard had massive white drapes hanging down creating a sort of flowing, angelic-like quality as big, comfortable papapasan chairs gave the lobby an inviting feeling, the place to sit and read a good book while the world outside passed by. As I approached the desk, a comely young girl hoisted a tray my way with a tropical looking cocktail. I smiled, thanking her as I took the cocktail and sipped it lightly tasting a potent mixture of coconut, pineapple and copious amounts of rum. Whatever it was, it certainly helped with the heat.

“Mr. Locke,” the front desk clerk said turning towards me with a friendly, inviting smile spreading across her face. “Welcome to Casa Carolina,” she said. “Just the one night with us, yes?” She asked as I politely nodded. “Well,” she said in a sort of disappointed, downtrodden manner, “In honesty, we’d love to host you for longer but I’m sure we can make your one night with us a memorable one, and if there’s anything we can do to help make that happen, please don’t hesitate to let us know,” she said placing her hands over mine on the desk. I could feel her skin etched with deep lines and skin that had a sort of crinkly paper maiche texture that spoke of warmth and friendship. I had never had the opportunity to visit Cartagena before but what I saw of it so far was warm, inviting and friendly and I could only hope that The Family and their island would follow suit.

As night fell over the old city, a different sort of feeling fell over the city under a blanket of night. Beneath the dark layer that had settled in over the city, the breeze blowing in off the ocean was still hot, sticky and warm but all around the hotel, little orbs of light from sconces and lamps flickered on in the surrounding streets bathing the city and its old world charms in a soft amber glow. Beyond the old city on the horizon sat Bocagrande which was like the city’s more modern face to the southwest, a glittering district of modern skyscrapers and condos seemingly rising from the sea. It was almost as if I was straddling some sort of liminal line between the futuristic, new, glittering future and the distant but well-worn and more well-hewn past.

I could hear swells of people roaming the streets hopping from bar to bar talking happily, laughing. As I did so, I felt a pang of hunger and an even more noticeable pang of longing as I felt a pull to see the city lit up at night, to make the most of my limited time here. Every great feature needed a good backstory and now it was time for me to lay the foundation for mine.

I stepped out of the Casa Carolina and headed down Carrera 6 past souvenir shops, cigar bars and liquor stores and after a few blocks, I came across Buena Vista - a small seafood restaurant across from a tree-lined square. The restaurant was bathed in pink neon light as I looked inside to judge if this might be a good spot to have a bite, I noticed a girl sitting at the bar twirling the straw in her drink as she stared out towards the street. Even from this distance I could see her almost seemingly tapping her foot. I pushed my way through the front door and made my way to the bar.

“Is this seat taken?” I asked motioning to the seat next to her.

“Not until you sit there,” the girl said in her silky Spanish accent flecked with Caribbean influence.

I accepted her invite and sat, in the most natural way I could I asked, “What do you recommend here?”

“Since you’re guero (American), you must try the ceviche,” she commented.

I took her suggestion and ordered a ceviche while she pulled the waiter aside and ordered something I didn’t quite catch. I examined her face, it was angular with strong cheekbones, skin like coffee with a touch of milk and silken black hair. By all accounts, she looked perfect, I had spent so much time in the last few days researching The Family and looking at their ‘beautiful’ faces, like what beauty would look like if it could be picked from a catalog but this girl was striking in a natural, exotic way that was more than skin deep.

A few minutes later a ceviche and two beers landed on the bar in front of us.

“Aguila,” she said smiling passing me a beer bottle, “Our national beer, and ceviche con leche de tigre (Ceviche with Tiger’s Milk) - a dish every Cartagenera learns how to make growing up.”

Taking a swig of the beer and a taste of the silky, tender, buttery ceviche in the tangy, smooth broth, I smiled at this girl.

“Maia,” she said, “Mi nombre (my name), y tu? (And you?)”

“Adrian,” I said warmly and I watched her stumble over her tongue trying to repeat my name. So instead she gave me a simple, “Very nice to meet you.”

We engaged in some small talk about this being my first time to Cartagena and she regaled me with tales about coming from a family of fishermen and stories of being out on her father’s boat in the harbor.

As we ate, she delicately stroked my hand and at one point, feeling comfortable enough, I reached out and pushed a strand of her hair back and tucked it behind her ear, letting my hand linger and trace the outer edge of her earlobe.

After dinner, we went walking through the streets of the Old City, we walked for what seemed like hours. We walked along the Old City’s sea wall feeling the salty ocean spray kiss the night and somewhere in our journey we eventually came to the Plaza de Bolivar, a massive public square lined with tourists and lanterns illuminating the square. I pulled Maia in close to me and ran my hand through her hair gently. Maia kissed me delicately and then pulled away but looked at me as if she wanted me to keep kissing her.

Pulling her close to my face and kissing her more deeply this time, she squished her expression and uttered, “Gringo pesado, (pushy American),” pushing me away as my heart was crushed.

Maia looked at me with a sort of embarrassed look touching her lips as if she were taking in what had just occurred between us.

“Maia, wait,” I called out to her but she was gone disappeared into the shadows surrounding the plaza.

I returned to the Casa Carolina defeated and alone, I went back to my room and I watched reruns of Aurora’s World, on my tablet to lull myself to sleep. But even as I drifted towards fitful sleep, I saw Maia’s face, her sudden realization that I was the “pushy American,” frozen in my mind and I could feel her running away from me all over again as the darkness she ran towards began to cloak itself around me.

Puerto de Cartagena, Cartagena de Indias, Bolívar, Colombia

The next morning, I crossed the cobblestone street at Calle 28 turning my face up to look at the vintage architecture of Cartagena splashed in rosy pinks, verdant greens and sunny yellows covering historic facades.

As I did so I felt the sun warm my cheeks. A massive hover yacht stood moored at the Port, a car pulled up to the dock and the doors flung open discharging Moira, Celeste, Onyx, Willow, Elektra, Aurora and Orion Sterling who looked up at the massive hover yacht that seemed to defy gravity hovering just over the water’s glassy surface. I almost detected a hint of awe on their faces which I found funny considering that The Family was richer than most small nations given that Elektra, and Willow both had multi-billion dollar businesses.

Elektra had grown from the mousy black sheep of the family into a tech pioneer as head of of Sterling Innovations, a massive company both in terms of capital and political influence. Elektra’s minting of a politician could mean the difference between loss and victory. Whole nations and economies could rise and crash just based on her endorsement.

Willow meanwhile was a bit more seemingly down to earth - Willow Beauty had developed the worlds first “beauty cream” that was more than just a moisturizer, it had the capability to physically reshape a face seemingly wiping away time. It would not be a stretch to say that every woman’s bathroom in America had a tube of Willow’s cream in it. It wasn’t just a calling card, it was a leash, enslaving its users to an impossible standard of beauty that came at a hefty price tag.

As the family milled about the dock taking photos of each other, they turned as I approached almost as if they had sensed me in some way, “Adrian!” They shouted seemingly in unison as they draped me in compliments and easily-dispensed platitudes. Their words draped me in warmth, but their eyes cut right through. It wasn’t a greeting—it was an assessment, and I wasn’t sure I passed.

As I stood on the dock, high-end fashion designer, Harmony Choi, the fashionable owner of Harmony, a storied luxury fashion house whose couture designs regularly draped from the frames of the Sterling family, approached the yacht. “Harmony,” Moira said, her breath as light as a whisper, “How lovely of you to join us and to dress The Family for this exquisite getaway,” she said with a seemingly practiced ease. Behind Harmony came a strikingly beautiful rail of a woman in a creamy colored, flowing pant and blouse with a wide brimmed hat clutching a tablet under her arm.

“Moira,” Harmony said softly, “My chief of staff, Blanca Santos.” Harmony didn’t just arrive at the dock like any guest - she blew in gracefully like an ocean breeze arriving at the dock surrounded by delicate fabrics that caught the ocean air in a way that made them look weightless. “I see loveliness is your stock and trade as always, Harmony,” Moira said extending her hand gently to Blanca who politely shook her hand before looking up and marveling at the yacht. Harmony was the perfect addition to this trip - her very being was the intersection of access and allure that a Family like the Sterlings would feel right at home with in their midst. Moira blew kisses at the women as they approached and the Family turned their focus away from me to shower the two fashionable women in praise.

Eventually Moira trained her attention back on me, “We’re so glad you’re here,” Moira said tipping her gaze towards me grabbing my hand, “I’m sure its going to be one hell of a weekend, should make for a pretty great feature,” she said with a calculated air. Her hand felt cold, as if I was feeling the temperature of her soul. Her grip, too firm. I resisted the urge to pull away as her eyes locked onto mine, her smile holding secrets I wasn’t ready to know.

Harmony moved in closer to me and I could feel her eyes examining me from head to toe. “You know,” she said in a low, direct tone, “I really respect a well-dressed man.”

“I’d love to get an interview with you on the Island,” I said eagerly.

Harmony flitted her hand in the air as if dismissing a pesky fly, “I expect to be on the beach or by the pool most of the time, but Blanca could squeeze you in, I’m sure,” she said in a way that sounded cruel but cushioned.

Turning her gaze away from me, Moira exclaimed, “Imani!”

Sure enough, celebrity talk show goddess, Imani Veritas, came strolling down to the dock in a cream colored pant suit. Imani looked radiant and behind her flocked a cadre of celebrities which Imani collected like most people collect hotel towels. Imani and her group came up to the yacht and warmly greeted Moira and the family.

“Moira,” she said warmly, “So lovely to see you,” Imani said as she kissed Moira on both cheeks. “I hope you don’t mind I brought your gift a little early,” Imani announced making a grand presentation of the yacht, “I’m loaning her to you for the weekend to get us all to Isla Rosario and then when the weekend’s over, she’s yours,” Imani said in a staggering display of wealth casting off her yacht as a birthday present. I was certainly in a rarefied air.

Behind the two women the group of celebrities approached bearing well wishes and air kisses for Moira, musician Ronan Kade who greeted Onyx warmly, Victor Blackwell, the retired athlete who showed up ready to see and be seen.

Not to be outdone, actor Jaxon Thorne arrived seemingly without his longtime squeeze, fellow actress April Powers, which I clocked right away wondering if there was maybe trouble in paradise - but I filed that away I was not here as a gossip reporter,

Last but not least, hoverball champion athlete turned social media star Kai Zylstra approached the boat riding on his hover discs clearly ready to revel in the celebrity orgy on display.

But the real star was tech pioneer Theron Vance who approached the dock looking very casual and dressed down, the opposite of the other celebrities on display in full peacockery.

‘Into the Unknown’ 🎵🎵▶️

Theron Vance had made headlines with a breakthrough that could transfer human consciousness into computers, with the ultimate goal of embedding them into human-cybernetic hybrids.

Theron’s innovation was designed to transfer brain dead consciousnesses into new bodies. Essentially, Theron had invented a way to play God almighty himself. One of the major benefits of Theron is that he rejected the destructive, repugnant billionaire playboy persona that many of his contemporaries fell victim to and seemingly from the outside appeared to be one of the rare few tech titans who wanted to use their money and influence to create something truly groundbreaking as opposed to another monument to their own hubris.

As we took our seats in the yacht’s main salon, I surveyed the A-List manifest on display but The Family in particular, I noticed the way they moved as one, their smiles perfectly in sync, which sent a faint chill down my spine. It was a moment too polished, too rehearsed. The way they all turned to me at once, their smiles like mirror reflections, made my stomach twist. The Family’s seemingly perfect exteriors made it feel not as if they were talking with you as opposed to at you. It was a welcome, sure—but was it for me, or for what they thought they could do with me?

As the yacht’s engines hummed to life, I felt the weight of the invitation settle on me. The Island loomed in my mind, not as a paradise, but as a question waiting to be answered.

As we pushed away from the dock and felt the momentary sensation of weightlessness as the yacht engaged its hover engines, Moira turned to the salon and saluted with a flute of champagne as Imani looked on, “Cheers to all our closest friends,” Moira said, “Isla Rosario has a way of making people see the world differently,” Moira said, her voice light, almost playful. But there was something in her smile that made my skin crawl. This didn’t feel like a toast as much as it was a thinly-veiled threat.

The rest of the guests looked on smiles plastered ear to ear

As we pulled away from the dock, Theron clocked my presence and sat on the couch beside me, “Adrian Locke,” he said, a faint smile forming at the edge of his lips. “The journalist with an eye for hidden truths. You’ve picked quite the subject.”

Eyeing the family, Theron leaned in and whispered as if we were sharing a dangerous secret, “They’re quite the subject aren't they?” he asked, his gaze briefly flicking to Moira. “I imagine your feature will be… illuminating.”

As the yacht pulled away from the dock, the city behind us faded into the horizon. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was leaving more than land behind—I was stepping into a world I might not come back from.

As land behind us disappeared, Moira leaned in wrapping her hand around mine as I clutched a glass of champagne, her voice low. ‘Welcome to the family, Adrian. You’ll fit right in.’ There was something in her tone that made the hairs on my neck rise.

The Family may have welcomed me with open arms, their smiles warm and inviting. But behind their eyes, I saw something else. Something watching. Waiting.

As the hover yacht glided toward the blazing horizon, the light felt hollow. We weren’t heading for the sun—we were sinking into darkness. That’s where the truth lay, and where I’d discover what lies beneath.