by Rebecca Shea
I shake my head. “No thank you.”
“I’ll have breakfast ready for you in the morning. If you need anything, I’ll be in the back house.” She closes the door, and it’s then that I remember a small living quarter behind the house.
I spin in my father’s office chair and open French doors that look out onto the spacious back yard. A large pool spans the majority of the yard, surrounded by lush landscaping and lights. You’d never know this little oasis was inside a compound on the edge of a poor, desolate Mexican town.
Through the pool lights and the glow of the landscaping lights, I barely make out the small stucco house, Esperanza’s quarters. It must’ve been recently built, as it looks like a fairly new structure. Also, it wasn’t there when I was a child. The pool has been refinished and expanded. It used to be a small circle in the ground. My mom and brother and I would play for hours in the water, the humid air and scorching sun never deterring us. I smile as I glance toward the corner of the patio where my mom would always lie in a lounge chair, watching us boys roughhouse in the water.
Swallowing hard, I step outside and sit down on one of the plush lounge chairs scattered around the perimeter of the pool. I lace my fingers behind my head and lie back to stare at the dark sky full of stars. Even with a few scattered clouds, the moon is bright and the sky is clear. A far cry from the brown, smog-covered skies of Phoenix. Many things are so different from Phoenix—it’s a slower pace of life here. I appreciate the relaxed nature of Mexico. I wonder what Emilia’s doing right now. As twisted as it sounds, I almost wish she was packing her bags and leaving. She deserves better than this—better than me.
As much as I try to relish in the good memories of this house, of Mexico, I can’t. I’m unsettled here. This house is where the business began, the business that stole my mother and tore my family apart. The evil started here.
A light flickers in Esperanza’s quarters, illuminating the windows. The side of the house facing the pool is a sliding glass door and there are no window coverings. From here, I can see it’s a studio set-up; to the right is a full-sized bed, a small nightstand, and three-drawer chest. To the left is a small door that leads to a bathroom, and there’s a small kitchen. A loveseat and bookshelf complete the place, and the walls are bare, only a few personal belongings on top of the chest of drawers.
I know I should move, give the girl her privacy, but seeing her reminds me of Emilia.
Esperanza unbuttons her uniform dress, and it slides down her body to the floor. She wears nothing under her dress and her tan skin is on full display. Her breasts hang heavy, and a shock of dark hair stands out between her legs. She lies nude on the loveseat and rests her head on the armrest. Watching her does nothing for me. Emilia is the only woman who has an effect on me. Emilia. God, I miss her.
I hear the latch on the side gate click, and I immediately reach for my gun, which is tucked behind me. I sit still, waiting, listening to the rocks crunch under heavy footsteps as they draw closer. A dark form moves behind the shrubbery and heads toward Esperanza’s door, coming into view. Rogelio.
Blowing out a silent breath, I push myself up and decide to call it a night. I have no desire to see Rogelio and Esperanza get each other off. I lock the patio doors behind me and find my way to the spare bedroom where I’ll stay. Decorated in traditional Mexican flair, the hand carved furniture sits prominently in the room. Exhausted, I lie down on the bed and close my eyes, but not before checking my phone to see if Emilia has reached out.
Negative.
Sleep hasn’t come easily these last few months, and tonight is no different. In between bouts of restlessness, I find rare minutes of sleep. But those moments come apart in a burst of gunfire and screaming. I yank my gun from the nightstand and throw open the closet door. My dad keeps weapons in every closet, every drawer, and in hidden compartments behind pictures throughout the house. I lift the rifle from its hook and fling the bedroom door open, sticking close to the wall, the rifle butting into my arm. If someone aims at me, I’ll fucking shoot them.
I hear multiple voices, male, shouting near the front of the house, and the front door wide fucking open. When I see that the men yelling are all mine, I relax and approach. Rogelio and Fernando are spewing at each other in Spanish, and while I understand what they’re saying, I tell them to shut up in English. Everyone stills, and all eyes turn to me.
Rogelio runs his hand through his hair and glances at the ground, looking angry and somewhat ashamed. A man lies on the ground in a pool of blood.
“What the fuck happened?” I yell.
“He jumped the wall. We shot.”
“Jesus Christ.” I rake my hands up and down my face. I’ve seen more blood in the last three days than I’ve seen in the last three years. “Who is it?”
“Not sure. No ID.”
I come closer, studying the dead man, but step back quickly to avoid stepping in the blood that has pooled around him. “Is he armed?”
“Negative,” Rogelio says, teeth gritted.
“Fuck. It’s probably some kid…” My voice trails off. Shit, shit. Some innocent kid got shot on my family property simply because of this fucking business…
“Boss. Orders are if anyone comes over that wall or through that gate uninvited… Shoot.” Rogelio stands stiffly.
A muscle moves in my jaw. “Whose orders?”
“Your father’s.”
“And where is he?” I bark at the men.
“In the States,” Rogelio sneers.
“Where in the motherfucking States?” I’m about to fucking lose it. I can’t stand this anymore.
“Arizona.”
“Don’t fucking get smart with me. His ass is in a federal prison,” I seethe. “I’m running the show, and my orders are do not fucking shoot anyone until we’ve identified them as a threat. Do you understand?”
Rogelio narrows his eyes, clearly agitated with me. He gestures toward Fernando to follow him and begins walking away.
“And, Rogelio.” I glare at him. “No fucking the staff.”
He blinks in shock that I would know, but he nods briskly. “I’ll take care of this.” Rogelio kicks the foot of the dead man at our feet, and I turn around, heading back inside.
Esperanza is in the kitchen, wringing her hands together. “Is everything okay?” she asks in a hushed voice.
“Yes.” Obviously, that’s a lie. I’m standing in the hallway with a fucking rifle and a handgun, and there’s a dead man on the front lawn.
“I’ll have breakfast ready in a few minutes. I didn’t expect you up this early.” Her voice is timid and shaky.
Her demeanor would normally soften me if it weren’t for how out of it I am. “I didn’t plan to be up this early. I’m going to shower; no hurry on the food.”
She smiles at me as I walk away. Securing the rifle back in the closet, I bring my handgun with me to the bathroom, hiding it under a hand towel on the counter. Turning on the shower, I strip and leave my clothes in a pile on the floor. As steam fills the bathroom, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I stare and I stare at that man. I barely recognize him anymore. I’m disgusted, ashamed. Who am I?
Stepping into the hot shower, I let the water burn my skin just so I’ll feel something—anything. The scalding water reminds me of Emilia. Her gaze, her touch, her presence burns me in a way I’ve never felt.
It makes me feel.
She makes me feel.
Everything about her burns through the evil exterior of who I really am, and she sees the good in me. She gives me hope at a life outside of this, even though I know the reality—there is no hope. She’s selfless and sweet and everything I’ve ever desired.
I punch the tile wall in frustration, gasping at the pain in my hand, even though the pain in me hurts more. This fucking world I live in has taken everything important from me.
My past, my present, and any hope for a future.
ALEX HAS BEEN gone for four days. I know this because I’ve coun
ted every hour he’s been gone. I’ve worked every day, hoping that time will pass faster, only it doesn’t. Each day, I come home and Rosa is here, cooking for me and trying to distract me, but it doesn’t work. This morning, as I lie in his bed, I send him a text. Three words.
“I miss you.”
I get nothing in return.
I SLAM THE metal door on the coffee machine and press the start button before moving on to the next drip machine and repeating the process. Jax eyes me carefully, not approaching me. Obviously, my mood speaks to how I’m feeling this morning. He slowly scrawls the daily coffee special and a meaningful quote on the chalkboard. I love his quotes. I find myself looking forward to them every morning.
Today, however¸ I just don’t care.
Megan took the day off. She let us know yesterday that she’s so pleased with how well and efficiently we work together that she was leaving the shop to us today. It’s Friday, the busiest day of the week, but Jax and I assured her we could handle it. I need the busyness to keep my mind distracted anyway.
I stock the display case with pastries and muffins and prep the creamer, milk, and sugar station.
“Talk to me, sunshine,” Jax says sympathetically as he leans back against the counter. His legs are crossed in front of him and his arms are folded over his chest.
I sigh deeply and mimic his position on the counter behind me so we’re facing each other. “Just life.”
“Ah, come on. It’s more than that. You’re the most positive person I’ve ever met, Em. What’s got you all moody this morning? You haven’t been yourself for a couple of days.”
I shrug. “Just a lot on my mind.” To say the least.
He nods and twists his lips for a moment. “So, uh, I know we spend every day together, but do you, uh, want to go to a concert tonight? It’s a local band that one of my buddies plays in. They have a gig at a bar in Uptown Phoenix. Just friends.” He holds his hands up innocently. “Sounds like the cure for your mood. Music and shitty beer.”
I laugh at him, although the invitation sounds great. “That actually sounds really fun, but I’m going to have to pass. Can we do it another time?”
He frowns but doesn’t push it. “Yeah, they play pretty much every weekend. But I’m holding you to it. You need to get out, meet people, have a good time.”
He’s right, of course. Since I’ve come here, I’ve only met a handful of people. “I know, and I will. I promise.” I scold myself for being a homebody. I shouldn’t be waiting around for Alex.
He flings a towel at me, and I catch it before it hits me in the face. He laughs and walks around the counter to unlock the front door and get this day started. It’s insanely busy today. So much so that Jax and I barely say two words to each other that aren’t about making more coffee, refilling creamer, restocking pastries, or wiping down tables. It’s actually nice not worrying about checking my phone every hour on the hour.
When I look at the clock again, it’s two thirty and the next shift comes on at three. I’m wiping down tables while Jax finishes filling out paperwork from our shift and getting the day’s deposit ready, when the front door swings open.
It’s Sam. I haven’t seen him in the last two days, but he’s crossed my mind many times.
“Hey, stranger,” he says with a smile.
“Hey.” I’m surprised at how excited I sound.
“How’ve you been?”
“Good,” I lie. Because I’ve been shit. Total shit. And lonely. I wring the washcloth in my hands. There’s something familiar about the way Sam watches me, but I can’t put my finger on it. My stomach does a little dip.
“Can I take you to dinner tonight?” he asks. He’s direct. I like that about him.
“Ummm.” I wipe my sweaty palms on my hips and shift on my feet. In my periphery, Jax clears his throat loudly, but keeps his gaze on the paperwork. The silence is awkward, and I can see a hint of frustration on Sam’s face. He breaks up the silence by calling out to Jax.
“Hey, Jax.” I stall for time. “Can you get me a medium dark roast? Leave a little room,” Sam asks.
“You got it,” Jax says, dropping the paperwork on the counter and pulling a cardboard cup down from the shelf.
Sam walks away and takes a seat at a table, and I glance out the window at Andres, wondering how I’ll ever be able to shake him for the evening if I accept Sam’s invitation. I stay near the counter and fight with myself on whether I should go to dinner with him.
Jax sets Sam’s coffee in front of me. “Sunshine. Take the man up on it. It’s dinner.” He encourages me with his eyes, and I sigh.
Sam watches me intently as I walk his coffee over to him. He raises his eyebrows as I approach. “Coffee delivery. Nice,” he says as I set the hot coffee in front of him. His eyes go from humorous to sincere in one second as he asks me again, “Have dinner with me, Emilia. I’ve enjoyed talking to you, and I’d like to get to know you better.”
Heat crawls across my chest, and I scratch nervously at my neck. “I like talking to you too,” I admit. I feel like I’m betraying Alex by even considering this.
“Here.” He pulls out a piece of paper with his phone number scribbled on it. “My cell number is on there. It’s just dinner, Emilia.” He smirks at me. “Call or text when you get off work and let me know.” His lips pull into a full smile and his eyes beg me to say yes. “And I know you’re off work in the next half hour, so I expect an answer fairly soon.”
I chew nervously on my bottom lip. “Okay, I’ll let you know.”
He stands up and pulls a ten-dollar bill from his wallet. “For the coffee.”
“No. I’ve got this,” I stammer.
He rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Just take the money, Emilia.”
I shove his hand away as he laughs playfully, waving to get Jax’s attention. “Jax, your girl won’t take my money. She says it’s no good here.”
“Sunshine, take the man’s money,” Jax grumbles, shaking his head at us and our banter.
“I’ve gotta go. Talk to you soon, Emilia.” He slaps the ten on the counter on his way out.
Jax sighs, annoyed. “Sunshine, that man is into you.”
“No, he’s not.” I flush, embarrassed.
As Jax and I wrap up our shift and I’m hanging up my apron, Jax shuffles over and hands me another envelope with today’s tips. I shove it into my back pocket.
“Go to dinner with the man, sunshine. Put him out of his misery. Oh, and I want details on Monday.” I struggle for a moment, but I decide that dinner with a friend might be good for me.
“Deal.”
“HI, ROSA!” I announce as I burst through the front door, suddenly excited for my dinner date tonight.
“Hi, mija.” She looks up from her cookbook.
“What’re you making?” I set my wallet and phone on the kitchen counter.
“Not sure yet. Looking for something to make you for dinner.”
“Oh, don’t worry about me.” I wave a hand at her. “I picked up an extra shift at the coffee shop tonight, so I won’t be around for dinner.” I feel terrible lying, but I can’t really tell her I’m going on a date either. “But maybe, tomorrow night, you could make me homemade macaroni and cheese?” I love that Rosa enjoys cooking, it’s a nice change of pace for me, after having to always prepare meals for the last ten years.
“That I can do.” She slams the cookbook closed. “Mr. Estrada had strict orders to make sure I feed you. Are you sure you’ll be okay without dinner tonight?”
“I will. I’ll grab a sandwich at work.”
Rosa shoves the cookbook back in the cupboard and pulls off her apron. Her dark hair is in a ponytail and her caramel skin is flawless with no make-up.
“Rosa, have you heard from him?”
She stills. Her back is facing me. “I haven’t.”
That’s what I thought. “I’m worried about him. He hasn’t called or returned any of my text messages.”
“I know you are,” she say
s sympathetically.
“He’s been gone all week, and I haven’t heard a word.” Unease settles into the pit of my stomach. I love Alex, but I’m angry that he could so easily pack up and leave for another country and not bother once to check in. I realize that maybe these feelings are unfounded. He said it himself. He couldn’t give me more, but I know he feels what I’m feeling. I can see it in his eyes and in his actions. But now, I’m not so sure. He left me and went to Mexico without so much as a goodbye.
I should probably feel guilty about going out with Sam, but I don’t. Sam feels safe to me, where Alex now feels reckless. I’m in love with Alex, but at what cost? Could I live with him vanishing to foreign countries and never checking in? I exhale loudly in frustration.
Rosa turns around and begins folding her apron before slipping it into a kitchen drawer. “It’s how it has to be, Emilia. Remember what I told you the other day. The less you know, the better.”
“I don’t want to know anything other than that he’s okay.”
“I know, sweetheart. If I hear from Mr. Estrada, I will let you know.” She offers me a sympathetic smile and places her hand on mine as she walks around me. “Well then, I’ll get here early tomorrow and make sure you have a nice breakfast.”
“No need to get here early,” I rush to say. Not sure how late I’ll be tonight. “I plan to sleep in tomorrow. It’s been a long week. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I grab my phone and head into my bathroom to run a warm bath. I dump bubble bath into the water and twist my hair into a bun, then send a quick text message to Sam, agreeing to meet him for dinner. He responds almost immediately with the name of a Mexican restaurant, and I tell him I’ll meet him there. I spend the next half hour soaking in the warm, lilac-scented water, scheming up a plan to lose Andres—which is looking like it could be a chore in and of itself.
