by Mia Flores
Then, two days before it was set to start, with everyone checked into their hotel suites and me back in our beach house going over last minute details, Junior walked in with a look of dread on his face.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Peter wants us to cancel the wedding.”
“What the hell do you mean?” At that point, he might as well have asked me to stop being pregnant. The train had left the station as far as I was concerned. I was sure Peter was just jealous because he was too much of a pussy to ask Mia to marry him, or maybe he was feeling so sorry for himself that he just couldn’t stand to see his brother happy. I didn’t mean any of this—I loved Peter—but I was still pissed.
“He just heard that a lot of guys on the street in Chicago have been talking about our wedding, and now he has a bad feeling in his gut,” Junior said. “What if one of them decides to tell on us? We’re fugitives, remember?” He took me in his arms. “I want nothing more than to marry you this weekend, Liv, but I can’t just think of myself. I’ll be jeopardizing my brother, too.”
“He can go fuck himself.”
I don’t think I’d ever felt so hurt. Junior might as well have left me standing at the altar in my wedding dress, with my pregnant belly sticking out for everyone to see. I stood in front of him with my arms crossed, looking like I wanted to kill someone, and then I started thinking. What if I’m in the middle of saying my vows, and the feds bust in and drag Junior and Peter out in handcuffs? I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself. What if my poor mom and dad, who’ve flown all the way from Chicago, and my teenage son, who’s gone through so much in his life, are caught in the middle of a sting? As hard as we’d tried to swear our friends to secrecy, one of them might have let something slip. I realized right then I was being selfish. Junior and Peter’s situation sucked, but it was a part of my life now.
But how was I going tell my family and friends? I still hadn’t revealed to my parents what Junior did for a living. I wanted so badly for my dad to see what I saw in Junior, and if he knew Junior was a fugitive he’d never see past that.
I thought about it and decided I’d do what any woman in my shoes would do: I’d continue lying to all of them.
“Junior’s dad got into a really bad car accident,” I announced in front of everyone at dinner the night before my wedding. “And we have to cancel our wedding. Junior had to go back to San Juan.”
As I stood there, alone, with hundreds of eyes just staring at my little belly, I don’t think I’d ever felt so ashamed and humiliated. I couldn’t hold it together, and I started bawling my eyes out. I’ve never been one to feel sorry for myself, but at that moment, I didn’t just pity myself, I felt bad for my baby, too. All I ever wanted was to be happily married, to have a family, and most importantly, to have stability for them. Yet here I was, canceling my wedding because my husband-to-be was a fugitive.
Our magical weekend came and went, and by Monday, everyone started leaving Mexico one by one. My immediate family stayed, though; they’d taken extra time off work and decided to make a vacation out of it. Suddenly, I had an idea, and I ran into our beach house, where Junior and Peter were hiding out.
“Guys! What if we have the wedding on Wednesday? My family’s still here, and the wedding planner could make it happen. It’ll just be smaller.”
“It’s brilliant,” Junior said, and he broke out in this great big smile.
Peter wasn’t convinced, though. “We’re still not safe. They could still find us.”
From the look on my face, anyone could see I was upset. I couldn’t believe I still had to convince Peter. I’d even started doubting if he wanted me to marry his twin brother. Maybe he didn’t think I was good enough for him? Maybe he wanted someone gentler and softer, someone more like Mia? I didn’t know why he couldn’t see that I loved Junior, that we wanted to be married more than anything, and that we weren’t going to take no for an answer.
Luckily, I’d already thought through Peter’s concerns.
“If the feds didn’t show up yesterday,” I said, “they’re obviously not coming.”
“Yeah,” he finally admitted. “I guess you’re right.”
Two days later, our wedding turned out even more beautiful than I imagined it would be. We moved everything to a twelve-bedroom luxury estate in Punta Mita, which was on an exclusive beach called Los Ranchos, on the outskirts of Puerto Vallarta. The house was right next door to the estate of Joe Francis, the guy who created Girls Gone Wild and where the Kardashians now vacation. The beach estate was completely draped with white orchids. The pool had floating candles in it, with white swans swimming all around. All the mariachis dressed in white, and Peter and Mia gifted us two white dancing horses, which we took pictures with on the beach in front of the breathtaking gazebo. Samantha and Sasha were the flower girls—dressed in white, of course—Xavier was the ring bearer, Peter was the best man, and my sister was the maid of honor. Junior wrote the most beautiful vows that melted my heart, and we released two white doves to represent eternal love. Our guests released hundreds of white butterflies, and it literally looked like it was snowing.
After dinner Peter asked for the mic, and I held my breath. Peter could be unpredictable, and after what we’d been through over the weekend, I wasn’t sure how he even felt about me. But he called us over to him, then looked us both in the eyes and started talking.
“Today, I am not losing my brother, I am gaining a sister,” he said as he turned to me. “Liv, thank you for being so good to Junior.”
Hearing those words, I didn’t just breathe a sigh of relief, I felt true joy. I realized he’d just been worried. I’d be paranoid, too, I thought, if I’d gone through half the shit he has.
That night, we had the time of our lives. We were so blessed to have our children there, both our families, and only our closest friends. I was so happy it was just the people we cared about. It was beautiful and intimate, and I realized it didn’t have to be the biggest, baddest party. It was perfect just because I married Junior.
Mia
I’m not a twin, so I can’t say exactly how it must be to be that close to someone, but when Peter toasted Junior and Olivia, I witnessed something really profound. Honestly, if Junior and Peter hadn’t had me and Olivia in their lives, I think they would be just as happy with each other, alone. They aren’t just identical; they’re practically the same person.
It was hard for Peter to watch his brother get married, though. He was still paranoid and damaged from the kidnapping, and I think he was worried that Olivia was somehow taking his place. Sure, he and Junior had lived apart and had relationships and kids that took them away from each other, but this time it felt final. Still, Peter knew that Olivia was the most perfect woman in the world for Junior, and because of that, he was truly happy for him. Seeing Junior so lucky made him lucky.
I hoped I could make him feel half as good someday. With my promise ring back on my finger, Peter had made it clear it was what he wanted, too. I knew we’d be engaged soon, and it was what I wanted more than anything. I longed for the same happiness and commitment Olivia and Junior felt at their wedding.
Olivia
Peter and Mia were the most madly in love couple in the room that night, aside from me and Junior, of course. I remember seeing them dance all night, looking at each other like they were the only people on earth. Even if Peter was sad because he was giving his brother up, he was getting something, too, and that was Mia.
Mia
Peter had never promised me anything. Even when he gave me my promise ring, he didn’t say, “We’re going to be together forever.” Knowing everything he’d been through, I realized that he didn’t want to lie to me because this life had no guarantees. Everyone I’d ever dated had sold me a pack of lies, but not Peter. He refused to even promise me a future, and to most girls, that would be depressing, but I needed that honesty.
That summer, in 2005, Peter got better day by day, even though he still had nightmares.
He was terrified of being in Guadalajara, since Uncle Pablo knew where we lived. So Peter started pressing Olivia and Junior to move from there to be with us, and we took some time off to scout different cities to live in. Finally, the four of us decided to move into our beach house in Puerto Vallarta.
All through October, Peter and I walked on the beach every single night. It wasn’t humid, so you could let the breeze blow past you and never get sticky. The sea turtles were laying their eggs, so we had to be careful not to step on them as we tiptoed through the sand.
One evening, we were strolling hand in hand, looking for eggs one minute and staring up at the stars the next. Suddenly, Peter fell to the ground.
“Are you okay?” I asked. Then I realized he was on one knee.
“Mia, I love you more than anything in this world,” he said. “Will you marry me?”
Without pausing for one second to look at the massive ring he was holding, I screamed. “Yes!”
“I don’t want to wait,” he said. “I want to do it as soon as possible.”
We didn’t waste any time. We spent the next two months planning the wedding of our dreams, a black-tie beach ceremony. My parents hadn’t visited us yet, and this was going to be their first time seeing my new world. Even though I talked to them all the time, I still hadn’t told them the truth about what Peter did. But they had their suspicions. They just didn’t want me to turn away from them, so they never pressed me on it. Instead, they’d say things to me like, “Just be safe. You have to be careful all the time.” I wanted them to see me happy, to see how wonderful my life was going to be, so every detail of my wedding was important to me. To Peter, too; I’d never seen him so excited. We couldn’t wait to be married, forever, and on December 10, 2005, we were ready to say “I do.”
Olivia
I was about to pop, scheduled to have a C-section in ten days, but that wasn’t going to stop me from helping out as much as I could. Mia wanted to have a traditional wedding, you know, the whole big white Cinderella dress thing, and it was going to be amazing. She ordered a ton of orchids from Colombia, and they were everywhere: on the tables in the ballroom where the reception would be, decorating the gazebo on the beach where they’d say their vows, and scattered on the high-tops where they’d have their cocktail hour. There was a violinist trying to figure out the best place on the beach to stand, and about three mariachi bands filing into the ballroom, which was draped top to bottom in satin sheets. I was waddling around, thinking to myself, Holy shit. This makes our wedding look like a beach party. Then I decided to go back to our house to see if Mia needed anything.
I made it into her bedroom after what felt like twenty minutes, and she was sitting on the bed in her wedding dress, sobbing. Peter was nowhere in sight.
“Oh my God! What’s wrong?”
“The wedding’s off.” Mia could hardly get the words out.
“What do you mean?”
Mia was a mess, crying and holding this balled-up tissue that she was dabbing her face with so she wouldn’t ruin her makeup. “They’re being extorted. Peter’s off dealing with it now, and I don’t know when he’ll be back.”
Mia
The whole situation was a fucking disaster, but, honestly, we should have seen it coming.
What happened? Let me start at the beginning with the players involved. We had a chef named Luis at our Puerto Vallarta house, and I’d never trusted him. When you’re in the presence of a person who isn’t wholesome or genuine, you feel it, and that was the case with this guy. He hadn’t ever done anything to me, but I still hated him. He was so proud, walking around all day in his Cordon Bleu smock, and I didn’t want him cooking my food. I didn’t even like looking at him. I’d been so close to begging Peter to fire him a hundred times, but I had no proof of anything, so I’d backed off. Peter had spoiled me so rotten that I had a tendency to be a brat sometimes, and I’d finally come to my senses and decided I’m not going to be like that anymore. I’m a grown woman, and I’m going to act like one.
We also had a property management company because that’s what you do when you’ve got a huge beach house and you’re not there all the time. They cut your grass, they water your trees, and apparently, they cozy up to your staff, including your backstabbing chef.
A few weeks before our wedding, Peter had to go to the immigration office to get the proper documentation necessary for our marriage license. While he was there, he noticed a customs agent sizing him up. Peter thought he recognized him, but he wasn’t sure who it could be. He brushed it off and came home.
It turns out the customs agent’s side job was working for our property management company, and he’d been tipped off by Luis that Peter was coming by for a permit. The chef knew that Peter wasn’t clean, so he pressed the agent to do a little research, and sure enough, he discovered Junior and Peter were fugitives. What do you do with wanted men? You either call the United States and ship their asses back, or you extort money from them.
On the morning of our wedding, I was standing in my room in my wedding dress, looking at myself in the mirror. I was thinking, This is absolutely the best day of my life. The man of my dreams, who treats me like a queen and loves me as much as I love him, is going to be my husband. I’m going to be by his side for the rest of my life. Then, suddenly, I overheard men talking loudly right outside my door. They were angry, and their voices were getting really loud, like they were about to start fighting. I couldn’t figure out what the hell could be going on, so I peeked out the door with my huge Cinderella dress wedged right in next to me.
I saw Peter standing there with two Mexican customs agents in full uniform. Right next to them was that piece-of-shit chef, Luis.
“Stay in the room!” Luis said, glaring at me. “Stay in there!” He slammed the door shut in my face.
I was too shocked even to be upset. I just knew that something bad was happening if two customs agents were there, so I had to think fast. I grabbed Peter’s briefcases, which held all his ledgers, and scooped up all the phones that were sitting around the room. My dress probably weighed thirty pounds, but I moved fast. I ran into the bathroom, propped myself up on the vanity, and lifted up the window. There were a few huge bushes on the side of the house, right below me, and I opened up the briefcases and began dumping out all the ledgers, phones, and anything else that was in there.
Then I ran back to the door, my dress flopping all around me, opened it, and saw the customs agent holding a “wanted” photo that looked like it had been printed off the internet. Peter and Junior’s faces were right there on it, one right next to the other.
I slammed the door and stood there in disbelief. This is it, I thought. Peter’s going to prison on our wedding day.
Through my heaving and gasping, I could hear what was happening outside.
“Give us a million dollars, or the US Marshals are coming for both of you,” said the customs agent.
“We’ll take it in increments,” added Luis.
Even though I was practically hysterical, I saw right through their bullshit. Yeah, right, I said to myself. When they get a taste of even just a little bit of that money, they’ll be back for more. And they’ll keep coming back forever.
Peter sounded furious, but he was measured. “Look,” he said. “I’ll give you $100,000 now and the rest when I get back to Guadalajara.” He paused. “It’s my wedding day, and I have to pay for everything. So just let me get married, and I’ll give you the money later in the week.”
When everything got really quiet, I knew a deal had been struck. Just like that, another million was gone, and so was Peter.
Olivia
While I was sitting on the bed with Mia, holding her and telling her everything was going to be okay, I really believed there was no way Peter would make it back in time. They’re getting married in an hour, I thought. This shit has to wrap up fast.
I didn’t tell Mia, but I wasn’t sure Peter was really thinking things through, either. I mean, he’d canceled
my wedding just by a thought, and now here he was, being extorted an hour before his wedding, and everything was just going to be okay? In my mind, he was putting himself and Junior at risk. Too big a risk. But remembering the nightmare I’d gone through, I couldn’t stand to have Mia experience something similar. I just didn’t have it in my heart to dash her hopes, so I kept my mouth shut.
Luckily, I was wrong. About half an hour later Junior walked into the room, looked at both of us sitting on the bed, and smiled. “It’s settled,” he said.
Mia let out a little gasp. “Where’s Peter?”
“He’s outside. Let’s go. We have a wedding to attend.”
Then he pulled Mia up to his right side, and me to his left side. All together, linking arms, we walked away.
Mia
Regardless of everything that happened, Peter and I had the wedding of our dreams. Our night was filled with nothing but love and happiness, and we partied into the morning hours. When my family talks about that weekend, they always say, “It was the most beautiful wedding we’ve ever been to.”
As for me, I wasn’t just happy because I had a fairytale wedding with my handsome prince; I was over the moon because I became Mrs. Flores.
CHAPTER 13
Margarito Senior
Olivia
My pregnancy had been totally healthy and uneventful, but in Mexico, doctors and hospitals will do anything to make more money, so they’d persuaded me to have a C-section.
Junior and I had scheduled the birth of our baby for December 19, 2005, and we were so excited that we went nuts getting ready for it. I bought Junior a Louis Vuitton backpack to use as a diaper bag, matching the man bag he used to carry all his cell phones. In my suitcase I packed a Burberry sleeper and matching hat, bib, and blankie. The night before we left for the hospital, Junior asked our housekeepers to wash all of my sheets and blankets so they smelled like Downy and to clean the baby’s things with Dreft. He wanted to make sure we were comfortable.
