Chapter 11
ELEVEN
Mayté
Mayté was certain that she would never get used to riding elevators. Her stomach flipped endlessly, sloshing the contents of her breakfast around. Her head pounded and her ears popped, the closer she soared to the thirteenth floor. The gaming den.
The game would begin again. The next hour could be her last.
Memories of her nightmare still seared her mind, but when she tried to push them away, she could only think of Alejandro and the library. If it wasn’t for her finger, which still felt the slightest bit numb, she would have chalked it all up as a dream. A strange and wonderful one.
Everyone here knows the house has a way of leading people to what they desire.
She couldn’t let herself forget that. She needed to stay positive, confident, and most of all remember what she desired most. Winning.
Her thoughts drifted to Carlos. If she could win, he could lose. She dug her nails into her palms. Why did he have to come here too? Why?
“Do you always look so angry when you’re nervous?” Dominic’s question pulled her out of her thoughts. Honestly, she had nearly forgotten he was in the elevator with her.
“What?”
“You look angry,” he explained. “But I figure you’d be nervous. At least that’s how I feel right now.”
It should have been annoying, but she found it more amusing than anything.
“I guess I’m just a mess right now,” she admitted.
A jumble of baffling emotions. The most confusing part of it all was how, right at this moment, she was alone with the boy she once had fancied, yet he was the last thing on her mind.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure that’s how everyone here feels, even if they don’t act like it.”
The elevator abruptly stopped and the door slowly opened. A lively buzz of chattering voices filled her ears, and the musky scent of fresh marigolds hit her nose. Bright neon spotlights in shades of orange, green, and pink stung her eyes. But as soon as her vision adjusted, fear seized her heart.
The vaquero leaned against the nearest gold-encrusted pillar, smoking the fattest cigar she had ever seen. He glanced in their direction. Sweat pooled under her arms and she gasped for air.
“Mayté.” Dominic moved in front of her. “Listen.” He cleared his throat. “Before everything gets frightening again, I just wanted to say that I’m here if you ever need to talk.”
She must have looked confused, because he quickly added, “If you need the perspective of someone outside your situation. I’m a good listener, you know, and even better at keeping secrets.”
“Dominic … thank you. I appreciate it, but …” She shook her head. If she let herself get too close to him, then she would worry about him too. “I don’t have anything to talk about.” She forced a smile.
“All right.” Dominic didn’t seem bothered. “If you ever change your mind, the offer stands.” He held out his arm.
Mayté wasn’t sure what came over her, but she took his arm and let him lead her into the heart of the salon. They walked past the vaquero, with Dominic blocking her from his view. If Mayté hadn’t known better, it would have seemed like Dominic was doing this on purpose to protect her.
The big round table came into view. Every last bloodstain and spatter had been scrubbed off the carpet and walls. It was as if Senora Montoya hadn’t even existed, much less lost her life here. Surely, if Mayté tried hard enough, she could pretend that none of it had ever happened.
A few contestants already sat. Carlos was among them, but not for long: he jumped up from his seat and stormed toward them. Clearly, he had purposefully chosen the seat across from the elevators so he could ambush Mayté as soon as possible.
“Go save a seat for me and Lorena,” she told Dominic. He didn’t need to get swept up in this again. Carlos was her problem.
“If you say so.” Dominic looked reluctant, but thankfully she didn’t have to tell him twice. He strode toward the table. Just in time, too, because, not even a second later, Carlos stepped into view.
“You know he’s just being kind so he can get to Lo.”
Mayté crossed her arms. “You aren’t Dominic Castro, so how would you know that?
” This wasn’t the first time they’d fought.
Over the years, they’d argued about anything and everything.
She got on him when he ate the last of the tortillas.
He scolded her for staining the table with her paint.
He got riled up when she used to tease him in front of Lo.
She hated when he used to tell his friends that her hair smelled like musty paintbrushes.
No matter how big their fights were, they would always be fine in a matter of hours.
He was her brother. She could never be truly angry with him. She loved him.
And that was what made this so hard.
From the corner of her eye, she saw the vaquero.
He was staring at them, clearly curious.
If he hadn’t recognized her before, he would surely recognize her and Carlos together.
She needed to end this now. “Please, let’s just focus on the game.
Bet low, and, no matter what, don’t fold.
” She turned away, but he grabbed her arm.
“How am I supposed to ‘just’ focus on the game when you’re here? You’re my little sister.”
Now the vaquero was really staring.
“Carlos—”
“I’m supposed to protect our family. After everything that happened with Father, it was all put on me. I know you don’t think I’m trying, but I really am. That’s why I’m here. Do you think I wanted to risk my dreams just for myself? I—”
“Enough!” Panic tore through her vocal cords. “Please.”
Carlos’s eyes widened, taking her in. No doubt he knew something was wrong, he just couldn’t put his finger on what. “Mayté,” he whispered.
“Contestants,” Misterioso called out with enthusiasm and bravado. “Please make your way to your seats. Our second game will begin soon.”
Mayté broke free from Carlos and rushed to the table, not daring to look back. Her heart pounded. She had never really stopped to consider Carlos’s position. Ma doted on him, but that came with extra pressure. He must have felt obligated to come here. Not just for himself or his own gain …
No, she couldn’t think about that right now. She needed to keep it together. Dominic was now at the table alone; Lo was nowhere in sight. Where was she? A new kind of anxiety clawed at her throat. “Have you seen Lorena?” she asked him.
“She’s not with you?”
Mayté shook her head and dug her teeth into her bottom lip. What would happen if Lo didn’t make it to the game?
Once everyone took their seats, the tiniest of leafy green buds sprouted on the table top. Thousands of them. All at once, their sprouts opened and a bean popped out. Plip plip plip. They landed on the table with tiny thunks.
“Whoa,” Dominic whispered in amazement. Everyone else around the table looked just as awed—and yes, it was truly magical, but Mayté couldn’t appreciate it. Stop. Calm down.
Carlos sat down across from her. He looked around the room, likely searching for Lo as well.
Mayté caught a familiar face staring at her.
Senor Vásquez, the elote stand owner. It felt like a lifetime ago that she’d painted him a sign for his stand.
His dark eyes flicked with recognition, then he flashed a sad smile.
A lump formed in her throat. Both of them were full of dreams, and now they were trapped here fighting for their lives.
“It is time for our second game of Fortune’s Kiss!
” Misterioso shouted. “But first”—he wagged his finger; his voice carried through the entire gaming den as if his lungs were lined with magic—“several introductions are in order. You already know me, your humble Master of Ceremonies.” He dramatically bowed, unbothered by the silence and anxious tension in the room.
“Dealing for this afternoon’s round is our newest croupier, Alejandro. ”
Mayté’s heart stuttered.
Alejandro strode to the front of the den, as nonchalant as could be before taking his place at the inner center of the round table. His face was once again painted to look like a calavera.
“Where’s the Banker?” Xiomara asked.
Alejandro simply put a finger to his mouth.
“Ah, a secret he’ll never tell,” Misterioso joined in.
A secret. At that exact moment, Alejandro glanced Mayté’s way.
His hazel eyes held her captive; his finger still hovered over his painted lips.
Heat bloomed in her cheeks. The gesture was supposed to be all a show, but something told her that there was a hidden double meaning just for her.
Yet, at the same time, there was something expectant in his gaze.
As if she were the one who held the answer to the darkest secret.
Why did that make her heart race?
“Did you sleep well, senorita?”
It took her a second to realize that Alejandro was asking her. “I—er—yes.” Her face warmed and she began to sweat. The feeling grew even more intense when Alejandro flashed a charming grin.
“Good. I’m glad. A beauty like you needs all the rest she can get. I hope you’re in good spirits today.”
Mayté’s mouth hung open. Had she heard him right? No boy had ever spoken so boldly to her. “I—I—th-thank—”
But before she could stammer out something that wasn’t nonsensical, Misterioso spoke over her. “Now, then, if you will spare me a few more moments, I will formally introduce you to our contestants.” He waved his hand, and the air next to him shimmered and changed.
Mayté leaned closer to get a better look. Back when they had been kids, she and Lo used to pretend they saw mirages in the fountain garden, visions conjured up from nothing. This was exactly that, except that this wasn’t make-believe: it was completely real.
An image of an altar covered in orange marigolds and candles appeared. The centerpiece was a large black and white photograph of Senora Montoya. Mayté’s stomach churned.