by Fiona Zedde
“Us. You need us, cariño.” Tia Carmen regards me gently through the lenses of her pink-tinted sunglasses.
A breath of relief. “Yes, that’s exactly what I need.” It’s a comfort not having to explain.
But Tia Ana isn’t done with me. “You left here without once looking over your shoulder. Now abandoning us to go live with a stranger doesn’t seem so right, does it?”
“Dios! Ease up, Ana. Luz didn’t give birth to Xóchitl for her to live her life for us. Xóchitl has to chase her own happiness just like we had the chance to when we were young.”
“Chasing her happiness doesn’t have to mean running away from us.” Tia Ana sits up to stare us both down, and the hammock rocks alarmingly with her sudden movement. “We are the only family she has left. And this girl is what? Another Redstone all set to inherit her mother’s crooked empire. When that happens, Mai Redstone will have no time for the love Xóchitl gave us up for.”
This is my aunt at her most dramatic, but the truth behind her words slams into me like a sledgehammer. This thing between Mai and me came together quickly and not too long ago. Just three months in and we’re already fighting. About her family. About Mercy. About strangers who’ve tried to kill her.
Does our relationship have any kind of future?
My hair feels rough and dry when I drag my fingers over it. I wish I could destroy all of my aunt’s doubts with my own certainty. But how can I when the doubts sound like the same ones rolling around in my own head?
As for the other thing… “I’ve never forgotten that you’re my family, Tia. I’ll never forget how important the two of you are to me. I just want something sweet for myself.” I’m a breath from pleading for her to understand. The hot lump in my throat slides down then up with my swallow.
Tia Ana makes a dismissive noise. “That Redstone girl is far from sweet.”
She doesn’t know Mai like I do, though. Maybe that’s part of the problem. Just like Mai keeps trying for me to have dinners and whatever else with her family, I probably should make at least a little effort to bring her into mine. My tias have only seen Mai come here, seduce and smile, and take me away. They don’t know the look of Mai when she’s staying.
Or maybe I don’t know the look of her when she’s done and halfway out the door.
Shit.
“Okay. That’s enough.” Tia Carmen’s voice snaps through the awkward silence. Her laid-back attitude is gone. “Ana, she loves the girl and she loves us, too. All this is recent. Give her a chance to find her balance and get off her ass. She’ll only fall away from us if you keep kicking at her. Don’t force her to choose when she doesn’t have to.”
I roll my shoulders back and stretch my neck to one side and then the other to ease the tight coil of tension in me. It doesn’t help.
“Xóchitl, go put on your swimsuit and make us some fresh drinks. I’ll calm my sister down in the meantime. The day is too nice for all this drama.” She tosses this last bit at Aunt Ana, trailing her fingers through the water. “Go, cariño,” she says when I don’t immediately move.
“Okay, Tia Carmen.” A quick look at Tia Ana finds her face soft and already drawn with lines of regret. She gently tilts her head toward the house, and I scramble to my feet for escape.
What is it about these women that turns me into a needy child?
My bedroom glows with sunlight. Everything is just like I left it a few months ago, including the extra set of pajamas folded on top of the storage trunk at the foot of the bed. Seeing Mai wearing my clothes and tugging them off her in the middle of the night is one of the brighter pleasures I remember from the week she was here.
It’s a pleasure I might never have again.
No wonder so many people hate relationships. All this uncertainty and fear that comes with them is just pure torture. Only a masochist would deal with this kind of crap over and over again. Naked, I pull out a bikini from the armoire and slip it on without looking at my reflection. There’s nothing new to see there.
A half an hour later, I leave the kitchen with a tray of margaritas to replace the nearly empty glasses both women have. As I pass Tia Ana her drink, she grabs my hand and squeezes it. Her eyes are full of apology and love.
“I worry for you, my flower. That’s all.”
“I know.” I clear the roughness from my throat and settle on the stone steps of the pool, a drink in hand. The water is cool where it comes up to my waist but warms quickly.
Looking happily between the two of us, Tia Carmen moves her feet back and forth in the water to steer her floaty. The rainbow unicorn sails toward the center of the pool, and she sips her drink with a hum of satisfaction.
My family.
“So, what did you troublemakers get into while I was gone?” I ask.
Carmen snorts delicately. “You’re the only trouble, cariño.”
My favorite aunt climbs from her hammock carefully holding her margarita. “It’s the usual routine around here. Nothing exciting.” Her feet hit the water with a mild splash, and with her ornate twist of silver hair far above the water and her drink in one hand, she swims toward me. “We like the quiet.” Dripping wet from the shoulders down, she settles on the steps next to me with her margarita.
My mother, their sister, was an enforcer. Her power had been tremendous: flight and weather manipulation. She’d also been terrifying beautiful.
My tias used to joke that the gods unfairly gave their sister all the real power when it should have been spread among all the girls. But my tias never wanted any special power. Unless a Meta is part of an influential family, real power only comes with real problems. No one wanted my mother to be an enforcer, but she jumped at the chance.
And now she is dead, killed in the same “accident” as her husband and one of her sisters.
“A quiet life is nice,” I agree.
Although my tias know about my job, I try to keep them as far from it as possible. Outside my small family and the people at work, only Mai knows I’m an enforcer. It’s safer that way.
My tia bumps my shoulder. “Quiet is a good thing for you? You don’t act like it.”
Before I can say anything, Tia Carmen comes to my rescue. “You know she only did those terrible things because of Ixchel.” Her voice is low, and the echo of her words momentarily blankets the backyard in a somber silence. None of us have gotten past my sister’s death.
Tia Ana is relentless, though. “You should give up the work and just be, Xóchitl. Enjoy the blood rushing through your veins at an even pace instead of fueled by adrenaline and fear for your life.”
They always refer to what I do as “the work,” never saying “enforcer” out loud in case someone is listening. I’ve never teased them for their paranoia.
“You know I’d only get bored,” I tell them. “There’s only so much quiet I can stand without ripping my hair out by the roots and running naked down the streets screaming.”
It’s only a slight exaggeration.
The acres the house sits on are lush and fertile. My aunts could sell what they grow but instead choose to live off the food and animals, then trade what’s leftover with a few select people in the town nearby. They’re happy.
“Sometimes I think you only define the quality of your life by the amount of trouble you get into.” Carmen floats close to me with her eyes closed and the straw of the margarita between her lips. A light breeze propels her gently across the pool. “There’s nothing wrong with that, cariño. Your mother was the same way after a while.”
The things we get used to.
“I hope it’s not the same,” I say with a twist to my mouth. “The last thing I want to do is get any of you killed.”
A shrug from Tia Ana. “People will do what they will do.”
And I’ll kill anyone who tries to hurt the ones I love.
Mai drifts to the forefront
of my mind again. My belly clenches viciously at the thought of never holding her again. Sometimes it scares me how fast I fell for her. No matter how many fights we have or what happens with us in the future, she’s firmly lodged in my heart.
The sound of the doorbell interrupts my thoughts. Ana and Carmen both look up and meet each other’s eyes. Something is going on. The twinned thoughts from them overlap, more feeling than anything. Something has been going on since I last left. Carmen reaches for her cell phone tucked into another pocket on her floaty and swipes a few times, calling up an image of the front gate and the cameras capturing every angle of the property.
“Someone from the village,” she says, then shoves the phone toward the edge of the pool where Ana can reach it.
Interesting, since the village is at least an hour away by car, a mixture of bumpy and smooth roads. Ana hands me the phone and heads into the house toward the front. She could just walk around the yard and go to the front gate that leads directly to the verandah, but she’s being cautious. Why?
I meet Carmen’s eyes. “Wait,” she tells me.
The image of the front door is on the phone, the empty veranda, shadows of leaves overhead that move in the breeze.
A few seconds later, Ana appears on the screen. She steps off the veranda in a hastily thrown on shift. The sandals on her feet slap gently on the smooth stone path as she heads to our innocuous-looking front gate.
There’s nothing overtly secure about our house at first glance. But anyone who arrives at the gate finds no obvious latch to open. They have to ring an electronic bell in the low stone fence to get anyone’s attention. An invisible barrier above the fence stops dead anyone who tries to jump over.
Through the camera, a boy waits at the fence. He’s a teenager, no more than maybe fifteen years old. I know him, and I know his family.
Ana waves to him. “Hola, Pablito.”
“Bueñas tardes, Señora.”
They go through a round of pleasantries while the boy’s eyes roam over the house, veranda, and backyard barely visible through a dense thicket of flowers and fruit trees.
After many minutes, he finally gets to the point of his visit. “Our trees are bursting with pomegranates, and we can barely eat them all. Do you have any tomatoes or corn to trade?” His eyes don’t stop moving.
“No tomatoes or corn, Pablito. At least not yet. We should have some mature avocados by the end of the month if you want that.”
“You’ll be harvesting, then. Will Xóchitl come to help?”
“No. It’s just me and Carmen. There’s more than enough muscle to go around between me and my sister for such a small crop.”
There’s more, but I tune them out to question my aunt with a look.
“Strange, right?” She tips her head toward the conversation being captured on the phone’s screen.
“What’s going on?”
“We’re not sure. In the past three weeks or so, a few people have come from the village to barter or buy from us. About eight different requests spread out more or less evenly. Whether or not we have something they want, they always manage to ask about you in some way.”
“Three weeks?” Although I try to fight it, icy dread crawls down my spine. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Ana and I were actually going to let you know the next time we talked on the phone. This kind of traffic isn’t normal for us.”
No kidding.
The conversation at the front gate wraps up, and Pablito climbs into an old pickup truck waiting nearby. My hand is a hard fist at my side. Security cameras perched in the trees capture the image of the pale blue truck turning around on the road to head back to the village instead of moving on toward the other side of the mountain and our nearest neighbor who grows more than we do, sells as well as barters, and probably has what Pablito says he’s looking for.
What the hell is going on?
When Ana comes back, I get to my feet. “I can’t stay.” If people are searching for me here, then they know exactly who they’re on the hunt for.
“But you just got here.” Carmen shoves her sunglasses to the top of her head. Her eyes are wet with disappointment.
“You watched that boy just like I did. If I stay here, they’ll keep bothering you, and then what?” The thought of what could happen to my aunts, my last relatives, the women who raised me and Ixchel once our parents were killed, fills me with a creeping terror. My heart kicks hard against my ribs.
“They were searching for you before you got here,” Ana reminds me with a snap in her voice. She stands with her hands on her hips.
“I can’t stay,” I say again. So much for tamales and comfort. It would be selfish to keep my aunts in the crosshairs of some unknown enemy just because I’m feeling sad.
With a low growl, I shove down the thick lump of fear and disappointment rising in my throat. Someone’s out there hunting me. I have to find them first and show them exactly why that’s the biggest mistake they ever made.
Chapter 16
I didn’t say the words.
The text message from Mai comes a day after I’ve been back from Mexico. I nearly tripped over my own feet dashing across the hotel room to grab the phone from where it sits charging on the desk.
I didn’t say the words. Come back home, please. We should talk.
Three damn days later. But at least she sent the message. Stupid hope rises up in my chest like an ill-timed burp.
Does she want me to come now?
Automatically, my mind reaches out for hers. Again, nothing. She’s cut off my mental access to her as easily as blocking my number from calling her phone. I swallow the hope and accompanying sadness, looking down at the last part of the text. We should talk. Nobody in the history of relationships ever wants to hear or see those words.
But I need to see her more than I want to avoid the implied threat.
A quick glance at Mai’s online calendar gives me a jolt. She and I have a date.
Is that why she texted me today?
With no room for second-guessing, I mentally rearrange my calendar: Sleep, mope, and sad masturbate until my fingers fall off get moved to tomorrow, and I prep myself for seeing Mai tonight.
Just about worshipped for its reputation for incredible food in a romantic, Old World setting, Pleasure and the Palate regularly makes every best-of-whatever list in the city. In bed one evening after we made love, Mai confessed to a desire to go, but only with a lover. I made the reservation for us the next day.
That was over a month ago.
“Good evening, ma’am.” The maître d greets me as I walk up a few minutes early.
On a Friday evening, the restaurant is full, but with the plentiful space between each table, soft lighting, and well-placed furniture, it doesn’t feel crowded.
“Good evening.” I keep my tone cool to temper my excitement at seeing Mai again. “I’m Xóchitl Bentley. I have a reservation here for two. Redstone and Bentley. Either-or.”
In his tailed tuxedo and with surprise on his suspiciously unlined face, he looks like a startled penguin. He glances briefly over his shoulder before consulting a book on the podium in front of him.
“There might be some sort of misunderstanding,” he says after a few awkward moments scanning the large, hardbound ledger. “I have it here that the Bentley party is already at the table and nearly a half an hour into the meal.”
Surprise makes my voice sharp. “A half an hour? Doubt it. I’m a little early for our eight o’clock reservation.”
The man darts a gaze behind me at what is probably a growing line. I don’t bother looking.
His hands grip the sides of the podium. The politeness is seconds away from sliding off his face. “According to our records, someone called to move the reservation up by half an hour. Your party arrived and is currently on the first bottle o
f wine.”
Bottle of wine. That means Mai didn’t come here alone. My fingernails dig into my palm. “A bottle of wine is big enough to share. I’ll just go over and join them.”
“That’s not possible, I’m afraid. It’s a table for two.”
Oh, you’re not afraid yet… My anger threatens to bubble up, but I clamp down on my tongue. Hard.
“All right,” I speak through the flood of blood over my tongue. “In that case, I’ll just go over and see who’s been impersonating me these days.”
It better not be one of those inferior models Mai dated before me. The anger floods me like super-heated steam. I feel seconds away from blowing all the way up. I’m not jealous, I’m pissed.
The maître d stutters. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, ma’am.”
There are a few ways I can handle this, but I do it the way my Tia Carmen would approve of. My smile comes out to play.
“It’ll only be a simple hello…” His name tag gleams gold from his right breast. “Ralph. Nothing at all to worry about. I’ll be there and gone in just a few minutes.”
The restaurant is busy. He doesn’t want a scene, and although it would be entertaining in a few ways, it’s not worth it for me to have one, either.
I up the sincerity of my smile and soften my eyes. The man isn’t a flutter of butterflies I can charm into doing what I want, but I do my best. “Promise.”
It only takes a moment for him to crack completely. I’m sure the growing line behind me doesn’t hurt. “Very well.” A smile twitches across his face. “I’ll have Julie show you to their table.”
He lifts a hand, and a woman in a loose black dress and high heels appears as if by magic. “Please show Ms. Bentley to table sixteen.”
Julie smiles like a toothpaste model and grabs a menu from beside the podium before Ralph can let her know I’m only going there for a quick visit.
“Come with me, please.” Julie turns in a swish of black cotton.
“Of course.” I follow the woman, both sets of our high heels tapping against the old-fashioned stone floors of the restaurant. But the sound is mostly swallowed up by the conversations flowing in every corner, the occasional burst of restrained laughter, the low and inoffensive music surrounding us like a tepid bath.
