by Mari Arden
The club is packed so it takes us ten minutes to find the guys, but when we do I head straight to Alex and apologize. His eyes are bright and I know he's been drinking but I'm still surprised when he laughs and hugs me. It's so unusual coming from him that I'm momentarily stunned speechless.
"It's all right. Most people don’t know I'm gay. They think gay men wear tight shirts, talk like this," he makes his voice high like a girl’s, "and care about fashion. That's a stupid stereotype." I nod. "One of the stereotypes is right though."
"Oh? What's that?"
"We have great hair."
I laugh. "Well maybe you can help me because I've been told I'm doing my hair a disservice by wearing it in a ponytail every day."
"That hairstyle does make you look like you're six and just came back from recess."
I shove him playfully. "Hey, be nice." I look up at him. "We'll have fun tonight," I promise.
"Oh, girl, we will."
Nat and I aren't old enough to drink but one of Pax's friends sneaks us some anyway. The taste is just as bitter as I remember. I hate the feeling of the liquid rushing through me, but within moments all I feel is a delicious high that starts from my head and spreads down like carpet unrolling.
We get on the dance floor and I feel Pax's hands on me as he pulls me close. "Mmm," he smells my hair. I'm feeling too good to be embarrassed that he might smell grease on me. "You're fucking beautiful, Jules."
I giggle and he murmurs about how "fucking tasty" I look and how "fucking hot" I am. I think he swears more when he drinks. He's also touchier. His body doesn't leave my side all night, not even when the foam waterfall is unleashed. In fact, he holds me tighter when the soap bubbles start, gluing our bodies together like a sandwich. He pushes me forward, protecting my body with his.
"Where are we going?" I shout.
"To the center of it all."
It sounds perfect.
I let him lead the way. My eyes are squeezed shut, buried in his chest. I inhale, loving the smell of his aftershave. At this moment, I'd follow him anywhere. When did I start trusting him?
The question should scare me. In another time, it would have, but his arms are my safe harbor and the worry melts away. I'm still in his arms when he pushes me backwards toward the noise and the roar of the crowd. I continue to lay my head on his chest. I hear the thump, thump of his heart. I pace my breathing to match his. Soon both our hearts are beating to the same rhythm.
When I open my eyes, I see the soap bubbles around us. It's thick like foam and it becomes higher with each step we take. Within minutes, I feel the wetness up to my belly. Still we keep going. Soon, the foam is right beneath my breasts. I hear a roaring sound that can't be man-made. I look up.
The foam waterfall.
It's coming from the ceiling, thick and white and never ending. I look into Pax's mischievous face and I have no doubt we're going into it.
To the center of it all.
I gasp when I feel the coldness on my head. Instinctively, I suck in a breath because the thickness is smothering, dense and profuse. It clogs my throat for a moment and I cover my mouth, struggling to breathe. Pax's chest is shaking and I clutch him tighter.
"What's wrong?" I gasp, touching his face.
He uncovers his mouth to talk to me. "Nothing." Pause. "It's just we're being suffocated. By foam."
My lips quirk. He's right. It's feels as if we're underwater. Soap is on my face, my hair and my neck. I feel it drenching every party of me. I realize I'm getting a free shower, and laugh into my hand. The irony isn't lost on me. We continue moving inward until something hard touches my back. It jolts my eyes open. A wall.
Pax bends down until his face is a centimeter from mine. He puts both hands out by the sides of my head. I'm trapped. "I think I have you right where I want you, Ms. Hendricks," he mummers.
I gulp. "I think you do," I whisper into his face.
Somehow, Pax has managed to get us alone in a room full of hundreds. No one wanted to go into the foam epicenter like us, and I can see why. Every second inside is like being underneath a showerhead. The rush of water and soap is an onslaught, sliding over our bodies, making our skin slippery and moist. Our breaths intermingle, and our chests are heavy with our struggle to breathe.
Pax's large hands hold my face, and even though liquid chaos is around us, I feel a magnetic attraction to Pax, a pull so strong that I quiver in his arms.
"Are you okay?" he whispers, his finger tracing an unidentified shape on my cheek.
I nod, swallowing again.
"Do I make you nervous?" I hear the smile in that question and I'm reminded of the first time I met him. He'd said those exact words, but that memory seems like a lifetime ago. That girl seems childish now.
I feel a different kind of nervous this time. Before it had been nerves for the unknown; a foreign flutter that scared me. Now my quickening pulse is not from fear but from anticipation.
Anticipation of things to come.
I touch his cheeks and I feel the stubbles there. It's rough and prickly and it makes my skin tingle.
"You don't make me nervous," I whisper, closing my eyes. "You make me ravenous."
"Ravenous." It's a growl in his throat. That animal sound does something to me; it sends tiny little shivers through my body. "Jules," his voice is thick with desire. "Beautiful Jules."
When he kisses me, it feels different. It doesn't feel like the first time; it feels like wild fire. His kiss is searing, his mouth hot and hungry. There is wetness everywhere, in my hair, on my face, down my backside- inside me. His kiss devours it all, and his tongue invades the crevice of my mouth, plundering with a hardness that I'm happy to oblige. I arch up against him, and tangle my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.
Through the haze of desire in my mind, I feel his long fingers on my waist. At first, they massage me, seducing me into a mindless heap of flesh and bones in his arms. When I can't take it anymore, his fingers move down towards the curves of my butt. I shift, twisting my body, and his hands slip lower, right onto the cheeks of my ass. I make a breathless sound into his mouth, and his tongue flips out again, catching my moan. I can't think. My world is nothing but his hands, his mouth, and his body pressing me so firmly against the wall.
I'm suffocating against his kiss and still I can't move. I love the coolness of the foam around us and the hotness of his body pressed into mine. I love the way his mouth moves and the dance his tongue creates between my lips.
Suddenly, Pax's hands slips underneath my butt. I gasp, as my legs wrap around his hard waist, and he lifts me up, enveloping me more firmly against him. His mouth pulls away from mine, and my whimper of protests quickly turns into a breathless purr when his lips move to the edge of my neck, biting, sucking and licking down the length.
Wildfire.
Everywhere his mouth touches, it feels like I'm burning.
My nails claw into his back, and I'm pressing him so hard I'm afraid I'll draw blood.
Still, I can't stop.
Wildfire. Red orange.
It's the color of desire.
It's all I see in my head. It's the color my blood's turning into. It's the heat inside my veins. It's the color of my breath.
Pax.
I don't register when he turns away. I don't register anything but my own desire. He lays his head on my shoulder and he kisses the exposed spot there. When had he unbuttoned my top?
We stay like this for several moments, breathing hard, waiting for our hearts to slow down. The foam continues to spread around us, building a white cave, catching us in a rainstorm.
Still, we are motionless.
"Pax." My voice is hoarse. He doesn't move. "Pax," I repeat again.
Finally, he lifts his head to look at me. His eyes are shiny and feverish with desire, but there's something else in them too, something bright and so pure that my breath hitches in my throat.
"Jules." His voice is a croak. For the first, time he sounds uncertain. "Jule
s." My name sounds desperate in his mouth. "Jules, I think I lo-"
"Shh." I put a frantic finger to his mouth. I shake my head. No, no, no… "Shh."
His eyes bore into mine. I see the struggle there. I wonder if the same struggle is reflected in my eyes.
"Kiss me."
I want his kisses to take away reality. I want his kisses to be the only thing that matters. I want his kisses to erase that powerful feeling inside both of us.
I want his kisses to deny the truth.
How can you love a criminal?
CHAPTER 20
One year earlier
"My name is Juan Gonzales."
I flinch when he speaks. His voice is heavy with his native tongue, but there's an air of culture and authority articulated in every word he says. Gray is speckled sparsely into his thick black hair. It's meant to make him look sophisticated, but the pale color reminds me of disease and destruction.
I feel a hand on my back. "Go on, Julianna, greet him. He doesn't bite." The polite laugh is a warning. Braidon's uncle, Jose Diaz gives me a look and his hand pushes me forward.
I slip my hand into Mr. Gonzales's outstretched palm. The second his hand closes over mine, I want to run. I imagine the things he has done with that hand. I imagine the pain, the loss. I imagine death.
He is the center of it all.
The second he lets go, I mentally breathe a sigh of relief. I want to wipe my palm against my jeans but I don't want to contaminate them with it. So I put my hand at my side, careful not to touch any part of my clothing.
"Julianna has been a diligent worker in the farms. She is there day and night. We've exceeded our quotas because of her hard work," Jose gives me a smile, his eyes crinkling.
Mr. Gonzales adjusts his glasses. "You don't go to school, young girl?"
I lift my chin. "I am a senior in high school, Senor Gonzales. I take online classes from home. It's better that way so I can find work." I pause. This next part is important. "I am… all alone, Senor."
His gaze bores into mine. For a while, there is silence. "That is a shame," he finally says. He manages to sound regretful. My fists want to clench. Liar. "It is so important that the young people of this world have a family, even if it is not a blood family. I have traveled to many countries," he continues, gesturing with long brown fingers. "And everywhere I find that people are all the same. They have the same needs, the same wants." Pause. "The same obsessions," he says quietly. "And everyone is willing to do something if the price is right, and if they are desperate enough." He comes closer to me. I fight the urge to spit in his face. "Jose is an old friend. He says you can be trusted. He says you are a good worker. Is that true?"
I nod solemnly, not meeting his eyes. "Yes."
"He says you are a loyal worker. Is that true?"
"Yes."
He takes another step closer. "He says you obey. Is that true?"
I feel bile rise in my throat. "Yes."
He bends and his voice is a whisper above my head. "He says you are ready to see the farm on the hill."
I visibly flinch. "Yes."
"Not many people are allowed access there. It is hard work. We treat everyone well. But," he stresses the word, "you are sworn to secrecy. Tell me, Julianna." I look up. "Can you keep a secret?"
I see my grandmothers still form. I remember how cold her body was.
"Yes."
He straightens. "Good." There's a trace of a smile on his face. "We are ghosts, Julianna. We will train you how to be invisible."
"I've been invisible my whole life, sir."
"Do you know what? I think I believe you." His hand touches my shoulder. I feel the weight of it like cement. "Perhaps you were always meant to be one of us."
"Perhaps," I reply softly.
He clucks his tongue, and his hands fall away. He nods at Jose. "Very well. Welcome Julianna."
He is in a white suit and I watch his retreating back. He is handsome and suave.
It takes everything inside me not to vomit right now.
Braidon's uncle puts his hand on my shoulder. It should feel lighter but it doesn't. It should feel less confining, but it doesn't.
"Do you do what he does as well?" I ask him abruptly.
"We have been friends for a long time." He pauses and the warmth of his hand seeps through like fumes. "There are not many opportunities in Mexico. You do what you can to survive."
"Braidon says your family is wealthy."
"My nephew does not know everything. It is better for him. He can choose a different path."
"And you?" I ask, turning to look at him. "Have you chosen a different path?"
His surprise is evident on his face. I'm asking more questions than I should. Obedient girls don't ask questions. I want to kick myself. I lower my gaze to show submission. It seems to work because after a moment he answers. "Sometimes all paths lead in the same direction."
Silence.
His thumb rubs against the soft part of my shoulder. I wonder if he feels the tension there. "My nephew loves you with every cell inside him. He has chosen well." The compliment seems a little less than sincere and I know he's only trying to be polite. He doesn't know me well. He only knows what Braidon tells him. Since Braidon is the only son in the family, he often gets his way, especially with this uncle. It wasn't hard for Braidon to get him to grant an audience with Juan Gonzalez. Braidon kept his word. He got me to Grandma's murderer. He kept his part of the bargain and I kept mine. I pretended to love him. Sometimes I wonder if he feels the pretense. Other times I know it doesn't matter.
Braidon doesn't live in this reality. There is a cloud inside his head. It keeps him delusional. He tells himself I love him so it's how he sees me. Even when I am indifferent, his obsession keeps him nearby. I'm stifled but I can't leave.
Not yet.
"Will you and Braidon be over for dinner?"
I nod my head in affirmation.
"See you then, Julianna." I watch him walk toward the shadowed figure of Mr. Gonzales.
All paths lead in the same direction.
* * *
He's built an empire.
It's a kingdom built on dirt, and the aching backs of immigrant workers.
It's a kingdom built from blood.
I smell it in the plants on the ground. I even smell it on the trees. The metallic odor is so strong I taste it in my mouth. It makes me sick to my stomach. I wonder how long I'll last here. Everyone I've met so far speaks very little English. I'm the minority here, a small white girl with haunting grey eyes. For the most part, they leave me alone, only talking to me when teaching me what to do. I suspect many of the people here are illegal immigrants, coming for a better life in America. Instead, they are back where they started, trapped underneath an unstable system with an even more unstable ruler.
An older man with a brown wrinkly face teaches me how to cultivate each plant. His hands shake uncontrollably, and I know he does more than just pick the plants. He teaches me the process, and how to dry the plant. We work together quietly for many hours each day before we go to a small abandoned building nearby to package everything. They tell me it will go to other parts of the country. Some will go to Canada.
I go to work early every day and come home when the skies darken. I don't see Braidon much, and sometimes when I am very lonely, I find myself even missing him. The only thing that keeps me going is thoughts of justice.
Justice will be served.
CHAPTER 21
"Maybe if you flashed your chest, they would've let you cut the line," I tease Pax as I suck the sauce from my finger. The Thai wrap sandwich in my hand is sweet and spicy and completely worth the fifty minute drive to get here. The food truck fair is in full swing, and the smells of fried goods and scented suntan lotion invade my senses. We've moved to the side, loitering near a sidewalk as we debate where to go next. I've never seen a street so packed before. Nat, Alex and I were hesitant to go in earlier, but I'm glad we did, because this wrap is delicious. "F
lashing's an equal opportunity action," I explain. "Now days, anyone can do it."
"Is that so?"
I'm comfortable enough with him to take our conversation here. The banter between us is what I enjoy the most. Pax has engrained himself so much in my life that I can't imagine a day without him. He walks me to class every morning. He takes me out almost every night. He's become a regular to our room to the extent that Nat has taken the liberty to hang a bed sheet between our two sides to offer us some privacy and so she doesn't "barf out her dinner every night" watching us "suck face."
I don’t mind. I like the privacy. I like the way Pax makes me forget anyone is in the room at all. Fall semester will be over soon, and Pax already has plans of how we're going to spend it. He wants to take me on vacation. He wants to go to Mexico. I hate the idea but I can't tell him why.
Pax's voice intrudes on my thoughts. "So you flashed your chest to cut the line?" he inquires with a playful smile.
"I'm not in the business of showing my body to men," I tell him seriously, sucking another finger.
"Who said it had to be a man? Equal opportunity remember?" His eyes watch me lick my index finger. I suck it into my mouth.
"Well the birds by my window have seen me naked, and they're still around, so it must not have been too bad."
"Are you sure it's only the birds?"
"Hmm, now that you mention it there is this red blinking light on a camera that I see from the neighbor's yard…" I trail off, deadpan.
Pax loves this. I can tell by the way he's gazing at me, like I'm the most extraordinary thing he's ever seen. All because I mentioned equal opportunity flashing. Mentally I roll my eyes. Men. "What about that guy hiding in that tree by your window? He sure did have a big telescope last I saw."
"What?" I fake a gasp. "You mean he's not looking at the stars? He told me he was an astronomer."
"Unless you have stars in your room."
I pretend to think about it. "No wonder he kept telling me to take off my top and bounce around… he said it helped him concentrate…"
"Tell me more about this taking off your top and bouncing around," Pax asks politely, as if he's ordering a meal or asking for directions. "There might be some credibility to this theory. I need to see exactly how you did it for him."
