Chapter 11 #2
The woman’s light eyes stared straight on. Aside from her hair, her smirking lips were the darkest part of the photo. Thin, with razor-sharp points forming a Cupid’s bow. She was the embodiment of hubris.
“It isn’t every day that a contestant goes for broke so early in the game.” Misterioso chuckled. “Maríana Montoya wanted to go first, and she certainly got her wish. Dios rest her soul.”
Mayté gulped down bile and stared hard at the altar.
Perfume bottles sat next to Senora Montoya’s photo, along with a hand fan and her cigarette holder.
Jewelry encrusted in alabaster pearls and iridescent opals dangled off the edges of the altar.
A pure white calavera wearing an extravagant scarlet hat covered in colorful flowers and feathers sat next to the photo as well—though, on closer inspection, the calavera truly wasn’t white: brownish cracks and decay were just below the surface.
A beetle-like insect darted from one eyehole to the next.
The calavera was painted with red around the lips and blue and black around the eyes, mimicking makeup, but it looked uncanny.
Like an animated corpse masquerading as the living.
“But no need to worry, we have respectfully cremated Maríanna.” Misterioso sounded cheerful as always. Did he show any other emotions, aside from playful joy? Mayté couldn’t imagine the man angry, let alone sorrowful.
A chill settled over her. An urn sat next to the skull, ivory and trimmed in gold.
“Please take a moment to remember Maríanna.” Misterioso snapped his fingers—and, in a puff of smoke, Senora Montoya appeared in the empty seat between the shopkeeper and Carmen.
Dominic gasped. Everyone at the table stared. Senora Montoya stared back, a demure smile on her lips.
Alejandro sharply cleared his throat. Mayté turned to him. He stared straight at her very deeply and intensely.
A sickening slice filled the air. Someone screamed. From her peripheral vision, she saw Dominic flinch.
Mayté forced herself to stare into Alejandro’s hazel eyes. They are so beautiful. The most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. She told herself that over and over again. Anything to keep her distracted.
It felt like an agonizing eternity, but soon Misterioso began introducing the surviving contestants one by one. Mayté could hardly focus. Where was Lo? She kept glancing toward the elevators.
Dominic elbowed her. With a smile, he nodded toward Misterioso.
“—Teresa Robles, who happens to be the sister of Carlos Robles. But don’t be mistaken. They aren’t twins.”
Wait. He was introducing her like that? She didn’t want to be known as Carlos’s sister. This was the place where her family lineage wasn’t supposed to matter.
“However, unlike her brother, her ambitions are not to restore her family’s fortune and reputation, but for herself. She dreams of becoming a world-famous artiste.”
?Dios mío! When Misterioso put it like that, it made her sound like a selfish ass—and her brother a righteous martyr!
Misterioso continued. “Last, but most certainly not least, is Lorena de León.” He gestured toward the table, but his smile faltered. “Lorena? Where is Lorena?”
Mayté began to sweat.
“Has she forfeited?” Misterioso dramatically asked. He knew the answer, but by the way he grinned, Mayté couldn’t tell if the answer was good or bad.
Letting her go off was a terrible mistake. Mayté couldn’t breathe. If she had to go through Fortune’s Kiss alone …
Please, please, please. Bring Lo in here. Now. Please. She clasped her hands together until her knuckles throbbed.
A ding sounded. Every single person in the room turned toward the elevator as the doors opened and out stepped Lo.
She stumbled, eyes wide and darting.
Something was wrong. Dread rushed through Mayté. She gripped the seat cushion.
“There she is!” Misterioso gasped. “Lorena de León. Heir of the Cuatro Grandes. The most beautiful bachelorette in Milagro. Perhaps even in San Solera, hmm?”
One of the croupiers whistled, and some others cheered.
“She has her pick of any suitor she desires, yet she has decided to come here and gamble.”
More cheers and fanfare.
With her most beguiling smile, Lo spun around and curtsied. The croupiers went wild. They clapped, and their joyous yells became almost deafening.
Prickles of jealousy jabbed Mayté’s heart like tiny fingers.
But why did she feel like this? It didn’t matter what the croupiers thought of her.
She just needed to win the game. She choked down her envy and glanced back.
Suddenly the cheers stopped. The croupiers stood at their tables silently watching, some even looking bored.
Her mouth dried. Had all the cheering been in her head? Had the house somehow done this?
She let out a shaky breath as Lo sat next to her. “Where were you? Are you okay?”
“I’ll explain later,” Lo whispered, breathless. Her cheeks were flushed, and her bronze complexion glistened under the lights. “Don’t forget our plan for this round. Oh.” She looked at Alejandro, then glanced around the room. “The Banker’s not dealing this round?”
“Afraid not,” Alejandro said, leaning against the table. He raised an eyebrow at Lo. “Disappointed?”
Lo rested her chin in her palms. “I’m not sure. Haven’t decided yet.”
Mayté’s stomach twisted. No. She chided herself.
This was all a part of the plan. If anyone could get information out of Alejandro, it would be Lo.
She was irresistible. More potent than any Quiéreme potion, Lo glowed like pure magic; next to her, Mayté was dull.
Forgettable. No one ever gave her a second glance once Lo came into the picture.
But maybe she wanted to be the one to get the information from him.
“Well, I’m not disappointed,” she blurted before she could stop herself. “I like you more than the Banker.”
Alejandro blinked in surprise, but then smirked and nodded.
“Good.” Lo’s whisper startled her. “Keep it up. He’s already at your mercy.”
Mayté nervously laughed and resisted the urge to fan her face.
They were on the same team, she reminded herself.
This was all part of winning—surviving. Despite all the things she imagined, things seemingly aimed at making her resentful and angry, she had to cling to that thought for dear life.
Alejandro wanted something from her, and she would use that to get exactly what she needed.
“Now that everyone is here and introduced, let us get started!” Misterioso said.
Alejandro closed his eyes, and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Bursts of lights flashed around him as Lotería boards appeared. “Choose a board, but choose wisely.” He spoke dryly. Almost as if this were the last thing he wanted to be doing.
One by one, each player chose one of the boards floating around him.
Just like a normal game of Lotería, no one could see the front of their board until they chose it.
Most would say it was all down to pure luck, but Abuelita would have begged to differ.
It was about each player’s energy. And maybe the house would feel the same way, Mayté thought.
She had silently begged for Lo to enter the gaming den, and a second later, she had.
If she could will that to happen, then surely she could will herself into picking a lucky board.
When her turn finally came, she closed her eyes and held out her hand, slowly, ever so slowly, hovering it back and forth.
Feel for the heart in your fingertip. Follow, and let it decide. Abuelita’s words replayed in her mind. It was her philosophy when playing, and she almost always won. She’d had bags and bags of bronze coins to prove it.
She focused as hard as she could until she swore she felt a pulse in the tip of her finger.
It was brief. Maybe even imagined. But there was no time to doubt herself.
She reached out and grabbed a board. When she opened her eyes, Alejandro flashed an amused grin at her.
Her face warmed. Lo lightly poked her under the table before closing her eyes and choosing her own board.
Soon, Alejandro snapped his fingers and a card deck appeared in his hands.
He shuffled it, tossing cards around and letting them spin around him.
His fingers moved so fast, they were almost a blur; he didn’t let a single card fall to the floor.
One seemingly slipped away, but he kicked up his leg, balancing the card on the tip of his shiny black shoe.
He kicked it back up and caught it up with the rest of the cards.
Lo squealed, and Dominic clapped his hands. Truly, it was spellbinding.
So spellbinding, in fact, that Mayté almost forgot to look at her board.
She flipped it over and studied the different images.
As usual, there were 16 spaces total: four down and four across.
Some of the pictures were familiar, but many were not.
The Lotería she knew by heart had fifty-four cards in all.
One afternoon, many years ago, she had asked Carlos to help her figure out what the odds of winning were.
She never cared for her studies, always succumbing to the urge to sketch in her workbooks instead, while Carlos seemed to be the exact opposite.
He couldn’t draw much more than wobbly stick figures, yet he excelled at academics.
Unfortunately, Lo had kept distracting him by sashaying around and trying to get him to focus on her.
Eventually, she resorted to tickling him.
They never did figure out what the odds were.
“For this round, the house will choose what you wager,” Misterioso said. “Your possessions are on the line this time. The round will last until a player gets a lotería.”