by Amarie Avant
Soledad cleared her throat as Canelo gently laid the man on the ground and said a quick Hail Mary.
“Must you get in my car so dirty?”
“No,” Canelo replied, tugging one arm and then the other out of his button-up. More of his tiger tattoo was exposed. His well-defined biceps rippled as he rubbed his A-shirt on his hands. Canelo gingerly wiped off his favorite knife to place back inside of his belt.
“The have nots sure know how to continue the trend,” Soledad argued as he tossed the clothing in the trash on the corner. They started for the car, and she continued to reprimand him for throwing away his clothing. “I bought that suit, Canelo.”
“And you’ll buy the next suit,” he said, glare locked onto hers.
She stood in front of him. Six feet tall, they were almost the same height due to her mile-high stilettos. “Obviously, if Lalina is delivered on time.”
When he didn’t reply, she continued to goad him. “If she’s not delivered, your death will be worse than those nightmares you have, Canelo. Mark my word.” Her slender fingers took hold of his testicles. “I’ll be the owner of these.”
He wanted to say, you already own them. Instead, Canelo brushed her hand away and declared, “You will have your Lalina soon.”
34
The early sun warmed Wulf’s bare back as he jogged along the coastline with Mary Jane at his side. He slowed down when his phone vibrated in his khaki shorts pocket. He watched the contours of the muscles in her neck, back, and then her ass as she continued ahead. Mary Jane turned around, running backward, and gave him a teasing look like he couldn’t keep up.
“Okay, super-agent, you’ve got me beat.” He held out his hands. “It’s Quincy. I have to take it.” Because this asshole is overstepping his boundaries recently.
She gave a quick salute and continued running.
Wulf answered at the last second. “Q, what’s up?”
“D, you’re mad at me, I get it. And, shit, I’m angry with you too. And I know how good you’ve become at alienating yourself, so I might as well come clean. I told Megan why I found her. I told Megan that I was searching for her on the behalf of Mallory Portman-Grienke.”
“What?” A heavy weight slammed against his chest. Wulf initially asked Quincy to find Megan just to ensure she was safe for Mary Jane’s sake. Mary Jane didn’t need to be bothered with her sister. She had enough baggage of her own. He planned on subtly mentioning that he knew of Megan Portman’s whereabouts during a conversation about her past, when Mary Jane was ready to talk about it.
“I’m saying your friend’s sister is in town. She had a missing person filed for Mallory Grienke a while back. They’re in Generosa, Mexico.”
“They?” he growled.
“Megan and . . . a friend of the family.”
“Exactly how do they know Mary Jane is here?” Wulf asked the obvious.
“They know Mallory Portman-Grienke is in Generosa, because I told them. Dylan, we’ve been friends too long. Mallory needs to see her family. She needs to mesh back into society.”
“Quincy, you do not know Mary Jane. Don’t speak for her.”
“All right, then you! You’ve spent enough time out of touch after dealing with the Gunner gang. Nobody can bring back that kid, Gracie. She was born in the gutter and died in the gutter. We got out, D. You moved to New Mexico to take some time after getting the Gunners. Time taken. Besides, we got out of the gutter. Stay out.”
Wulf glanced off in the distance as seagulls squawked, fighting over something in the sand. “So, you’re saying Mary Jane is from the gutter?”
“I’m saying she has no objective, no aspirations. Look, I was in Santo Cruces with you guys for all of twenty-four hours. Shit, I’d go mad if I were her. She’s got issues. No matter how fine she is, the girl has baggage. This is not you, Dylan. You’ve always had a plan, stuck to it like clockwork. That is, after you finally grew up. No beautiful girl has ever made you change.”
He scoffed. “Are you done, Quincy?”
“One last question. Did Beasley and Peter Grienke brainwash you too?”
“Fuck you, Dr. Q.” Wulf hung up. His phone vibrated again. Quincy had left Megan’s contact information and implored him to tell Mary Jane. Knowing he couldn’t catch up with Mary Jane, he headed the mile back home.
On Bogota Lane, he entered their villa on the beach and sat at the two-seater table in the kitchen with a picturesque view of outside. He couldn’t fathom how Quincy would push Mary Jane’s mess of a sister on her when she had her own problems to handle. No way was Wulf allowing anyone else to hurt Mary Jane emotionally or otherwise.
35
They’d argued about whose turn it was to cook lunch until settling on a street vendor and getting a plate of tamales to bring back to their tiny home. Mary Jane frowned as she stared at Wulf, lying in the bed eating. She’d almost said she’d loved him during sex. Fear of Wulf awakening one day and mentioning returning to Los Angeles kept her from uttering the truth. Mary Jane couldn’t keep him forever no matter how hard she tried to make their reality into paradise.
She mulled over some of the times that they slept together. Often it felt like making love. Well, compared to being married to Peter Grienke who had a lot of demands in bed–specific, strict requirements. Wulf’s spontaneity felt a lot like love. She snuggled closer to him as they enjoyed their evening fix of Telenovela, which meant interpreting the actors’ words based on their overly dramatic mannerisms. Except, Mary Jane didn’t tell him that she understood the words now. It was like a light switch had gone off in her brain.
The language was coming back to her. How, MJ, how is the language returning to you? You’ve never learned it.
As they lay in bed, Mary Jane joked about the actress on the screen.
“What do you think about adopting?” Wulf asked as he rubbed her hair.
She pushed off of his chest and sat up, staring dumbfounded. She squinted in an attempt not to cry. Being Mallory meant she couldn’t have his kids. A family she knew Wulf wanted badly. He’d make a good father. And he deserved to have his own kids. She tore her gaze away from his as it was on the tip of her tongue to declare that she wouldn’t make him settle.
But she chickened out. She was too greedy of a woman to let a good man like him go.
“Maybe in another year or two. When we get back to Los Angeles,” Wulf continued. “So what do you think?”
It hurt that she couldn’t give him children. Making Wulf happy was what she craved most in the world. Of all Megan’s faults, not being able to bear Wulf’s kids was the sole reason why she did not want to be the good twin.
He spoke for her. “I take that as a no?”
“I don’t…know, Dylan,” she mumbled, arising from the bed. Something in her abdomen churned. Their life was too good. Good shit didn’t last. Why not break his heart before she loved him beyond repair?
I already do.
Mary Jane went into the bathroom and closed the door. Wulf understood her–at least he did until he made that comment. Her hands went to her belly. Her body trembled with rage. It was at those moments that she wished she were Megan…even a drugged-out whore could have a child.
Turning on the water spouts in the shower, she undressed and stepped inside.
While the hot water stung her skin and steam curled around her, Mary Jane cried.
“MJ, let’s go dancing,” Wulf said, head just inside the door.
She rubbed the fog from the glass and looked at him. Why wasn’t he angry with her? He’d set aside his life for an entire year for her own selfish needs. She nodded slowly. “Uh, all right.”
When she got out and wrapped in a towel, she went into their bedroom. Walking around the full-sized bed that engulfed the entire area, Mary Jane headed for the closet. She rummaged through her clothes for the most provocative dress in the closet. The red number made of stretchy material would surely keep Wulf in her world longer.
An hour later, the salsa music sent th
rills up and down Mary Jane’s spine. The slight buzz from a few cheap margaritas made her dance nonstop. Wulf said he had a surprise for her. It better had come with a few more months in Mexico, or maybe they’d travel down to South America and visit Peru or…or blaze over to Europe and salsa in Spain. Anywhere but reality. They didn’t spend much, but Jake had given her enough money for the wonder never to end.
She switched partners with each song. Though her ass was enough to tempt each of her partners, she kept smiling at Wulf. He didn’t dance. Every time she turned to look at the bar, he was there. He didn’t take his eyes off her. He held a shot glass–probably the same shot from a few songs ago. She assumed he wanted to continue their talk about leaving Mexico later on.
With that, she gave the current man her full attention. He was short, bathed in cologne, and had a winning smile. But the guy had her spinning like a vinyl record.
If it weren’t for his suffocating cologne, she would’ve kept him as her salsa partner. But she decided that one more tango wouldn’t hurt, right as a gorgeous woman took a seat next to Wulf. Her eyes cut to him, but he was no longer watching her dance. He was conversing with the Latina, whose hair spilled over the side of the barstool and down her back.
Mary Jane stopped dancing. Her partner rubbed her forearm, asking for her to please continue. But she stepped around other couples and away from Mr. Cologne.
“What happened?” A man in a shiny gray suit stood in her way.
Her gaze shifted up toward the ceiling. He was up there in the clouds as far as she was concerned. He had big ugly lips and a fleshy face. She noticed the cross at his neck and responded with, “Excuse me?”
“Your smile has disappeared,” he said as she kept one eye on the current conversation and another on Wulf, who smiled at the Penelope Cruz wannabe.
“I’m sorry.” She rushed past the giant, but Wulf wasn’t talking to the woman anymore. He’d gotten up from his chair. She assumed Wulf was heading to the restroom, until he passed by the door. He continued toward the entrance of the bar. Eyes narrowed, Mary Jane hurried along through the crowd. No, the Latina wasn’t with him but someone else…the ghost!
The redheaded man from the sea.
36
“Keegan?” The ghost of her dreams was alive…real. A rush of memories flooded her mind of him. Touchable reddish-brown curly hair. Freckles gave him a demeanor of contentment even when angry. Which was never. Keegan rarely became angry. Keegan captivated Mary Jane as he stood next to her sister at the entrance of the club.
He wore a simple pair of jeans and a checkered button-up. The ease of inserting herself into his world was there. The sweet memories of love very evident in his eyes and the simple smile he provided. Mallory once wore distressed or frayed jeans and frumpy t-shirts, or if given the chance, she’d wear tights, a top, and ballet flats. She used to be at Keegan’s side. They were great debaters and chess players, and they’d had the perfect all-American childhood. They were always together.
Keegan belonged to a world her mind had purged.
Peter Grienke hadn’t just brainwashed his wife from leaving her sister and the plagued memories of her mother and stepfather, Vin.
Peter had brainwashed her long before that. Her entire world, Mallory and Megan’s past, was always meant as a ruse to keep her away from a family that loved her. She could only assume that the second brainwashing she endured at the hands of Lyle and Beasley counteracted the original one.
The one that made her his docile wife.
“And you are?” Wulf questioned. Standing with his back to Mary Jane, Wulf didn’t notice her as he began to shake Keegan’s hand.
“Keegan Little,” Keegan said, his eyes drinking her in with pure fascination and adoration. “I was Mallory’s fiancé a few years ago.”
“Oh.” Wulf turned around as his line of vision met up with Keegan’s. They both stared at MJ, each with his own set of memories connected to the same woman. But Mary Jane had been another girl when she loved Keegan. Now she was a woman, and she loved Wulf with every bit of her.
The true memories were slowly coming back to her since seeing Keegan in the ocean, and she hadn’t gotten around to telling Wulf. There was no need. They had built a life, and that life was perfect.
Mary Jane hugged her sister. Yes, Megan had fit into the scheme of things. Unchangeable because Peter had given her a false world that revolved around Megan. He hadn’t given Mary Jane a fictitious scenario for Keegan. Her fiancé hadn’t fit into the diagram of lies that Peter had cultivated within her brain. Keegan had been erased. Peter just transformed Megan into the worst type of sister anyone could have, and Mary Jane still couldn’t wrap her mind around that. He’d said that temperament wouldn’t change.
Technically, that was true, because Mary Jane still sought out her sister even after all those alleged vile things her sister had done. But now, Mary Jane did not want to know her. The twins had once been attuned to each other. Closer than anyone could be.
The memories of searching high and low for a strung-out panhandler every few months were incorrect. There were no fights between the twins about rehab. No traveling the worst parts of L.A. to Long Beach and back again when Megan ran off. All of it was a lie.
Guess I’ve gotta hand it to him. Peter was very self-centered in his tastes. From the beginning, he made himself my savior, with his story of rescuing me out of a hard life.
After hugging her sister, who held onto her so tightly and so long, Mary Jane let go. She looked at Megan for the first time in years. They were a spitting image of each other. Except, Megan’s short hair was in a ponytail and she wore khaki pants and a collared shirt.
“Thank you.” Megan went to Wulf and hugged him. “Thank you so much for allowing me to see my sister.”
Megan broke down crying as he let her go. “I’m not a drug…I’m not a drug addict.” She lifted the sleeves of her blazer to show there were no tracks of drug use, as if proof was needed.
Megan’s words were a streamlined-rush as if she had to get it all out. Wulf nodded continuously as she spoke. Megan needed the others to believe her while the proof slapped them in the face. Her entire persona was too clean for the lies Peter had fed Mary Jane.
She continued, “Mal and I…, we got along all throughout our youth. We weren’t the kind for sibling rivalry. We were friends. That’s the way we were raised.” Megan’s tear-drenched eyes turned to her twin as she pleadingly said, “Remember, Mallory?”
There were no words for Mary Jane. She didn’t even succumb to the polite nodding Wulf had done to agree with her sister. She silently listened as Megan tried to prove she was not a bad person. And Mary Jane remembered this also.
She’d once been a good girl. AP Spanish and Chemistry courses, and if Physical Education had an honor class, she’d have added that along with her other courses too. She didn’t have a mother who sold her to boyfriends as a child. That was all a story Peter had given her, and a story Mary Jane wasn’t aware that she was feeding to Wulf until just recently. There had been no reason to divulge the truth, until it came to her door.
“Let’s go sit inside of Umbirtos,” Wulf suggested as partygoers walked by them.
“Yes,” Megan sniffled, pushing her sleeves back down. “Mal, I promise you, I’m going to show you everything we used to do. Mom and Dad loved us. Please just listen. Okay?”
“All right.” Mary Jane glanced as Keegan gave her sister a shoulder rub. She’d stomach the woman’s presence, though she didn’t need a history lesson regarding her true identity.
She still hated it.
37
They settled down inside Umbirtos. Why did I bring them here? Wulf thought. He’d made memories with Mary Jane here. They’d eaten so much their first time. Seated toward the exit, Wulf reminisced on how he held the door open for Mary Jane and instead of enjoying the sight of her ass on the way out, she held a hand over her stomach and asked him to call an ambulance. They’d eaten too much food. He’d laughed as
she mentioned the only way she’d make it out alive was on a stretcher.
Umbirtos had become a Tuesday night tradition. But they were here with two people that Mary Jane was visibly uncomfortable with. Shit, he was holding in his discomposure as he ordered a round of beers.
Mary Jane’s hand found Wulf’s under the table, but her eyes found Keegan’s right across from hers. Wulf’s hand tensed. This is her fiancé. The thought slammed into him. Peter had done something to Mary Jane prior to the crap that happened in Santo Cruces City. He glanced at the perfect people sitting across from them, perfectly good people.
Wulf’s mouth tightened, yet Mary Jane leaned her head on him. While the round of beers was being dispersed, he contemplated punching the shit out of his friend’s face. No warning just like he felt now. Quincy should have given him a warning.
Megan opened her turquoise and yellow paisley satchel. She started placing photos on the table.
“We were five when I got my tonsils taken out. We tricked that nurse something good. She didn’t want to give you ice cream because you weren’t a patient, so we switched places and kept her going.” Megan smiled through her tears as she hurriedly tried to prove her point.
She pulled out an old video-recorder. “Sorry, I wanted to make sure you viewed these, and nobody has VHS these days. Mal, I have videos. Your ballet classes and chess matches, my first time helping mom with a soufflé. Oh, and there’s one when you won first place for your chemical compound. Mr. Wulf, it was the entire school district. Mal received a scholarship for—”
“Fuck,” Mary Jane began, “we don’t have to do the videos, okay?”
Wulf stopped bashing Jones’s nose in in his brain.
Megan flinched.
“I’m sorry,” Mary Jane murmured. “I just had a little too much to drink tonight. My head is spinning. We should get together sometime later.”
