26. Havoc
TWENTY-SIX
HAVOC
My mother keeps looking at Vortex suspiciously in between paying attention to the enchiladas she’s making.
“How many will you want?” she asks me, but I know she’s really asking Vortex and Seven.
I feel bad that she’s cooking for all of us, but no matter how much I told her she didn’t have to do any of this, she’s spent the last week at my place cooking and cleaning for me.
“How hungry are you two?” I ask them.
Normally Seven would have scooted his chair closer to me or Vortex so one of us can drape an arm over his shoulder, but right now we’re all sitting equally far apart from each other around my small kitchen table. They both look extremely awkward, Vortex comically so.
“Just a little hungry,” Seven says, his eyes flicking from me to Vortex.
“I could eat,” Vortex says. “Especially with how good it looks. Thank you for cooking for us, ma’am.”
I notice my mother adding a few chiles to the filling, and I grimace. “Less of those, Mamá. They aren’t used to spicy foods.” I chuckle to myself. “Or maybe add more, so we can watch Vortex sweat.”
Vortex snorts. “I can handle spice,” he tells me, and I’m not sure whether he’s grandstanding or telling the truth.
Seven, on the other hand, looks less certain.
He’s fine with the Mexican restaurant at the Roi, but he’s never ventured into the spicier foods.
He tends to get the same mild, comfortable-to-him foods each time.
It’s not like the place at the Roi even does super spicy, since they’re catering to the tourists.
My mother nods, though. “I’ll make it milder.” She smiles at Seven, tentative as it is. “We’ll get you used to spicier foods, if you’d like to try them. A little bit of a kick can feel good.”
Seven smiles at that, and his shoulders lose some of their tension. “I’ll try,” he promises.
“There’s always milk if it ends up being too spicy,” Vortex says. “It’ll neutralize the spice for you. So you can try things without worrying about it being too much for too long.”
“That’s why rice exists too,” I add. “It helps diffuse the capsaicin—that’s the stuff that makes chili peppers spicy.
But neither milk nor rice will help if it’s too spicy.
” I shake my head with a laugh. “There was this guy in my unit who insisted he was really into spicy foods. He’d add chili to everything.
Well, one time, me and the others pranked him by putting ghost pepper sauce into his regular chili sauce.
I had just a tiny drop and it burned. And this guy pours it all over his food, not knowing we’d replaced it with the spicier stuff.
On the first bite, he was already tearing up.
But he must have realized what we’d done, because he kept eating and smiling through it, pretending he was totally fine.
Up until he finished the dish, at which point he chugged three glasses of milk and stole my rice, none of which helped him. ”
“Javi!” my mother chides, but she smiles.
Seven blinks at me before saying, “So I guess ghost peppers are really bad and something I shouldn’t try… ever.” He pauses, then adds, “And I should never try to join the army.”
Vortex chuckles at that. I see him start to reach out, probably to tousle Seven’s hair, but he catches himself before he can move too much. “No,” he agrees. “You should not.”
“Let’s start you on the milder stuff first,” I agree with a small smile. “Now that you live in the south, we should be getting you acclimated to spice. This is the home of the chili pepper! The ancient Mexicans cultivated them and brought flavor to the world.”
“Really?” Seven asks. He looks skeptical. “Is this one of those other historical ‘facts’ that I need to double check?”
“Hmm? No, chili peppers are from Central and South America,” I say. “A lot of common vegetables are. Anyway, I’m not actually a food historian. We can find a book about the Columbian exchange if you’re interested.”
I can tell from the look on his face that he isn’t, but he says, “Okay.”
“And why is it Seven thinks you’d lie to him about historical anything?” Vortex asks, only to see the blush rising on Seven’s face and adding, “Never mind.”
My mother looks curiously between us, but she doesn’t interrupt. She doesn’t seem uncomfortable, necessarily, but I wonder if bringing Vortex was a good idea.
He’s been a bit on edge ever since Connie moved out of the hotel, though, and Seven asked if he could come too. He needs a distraction as much as any of us do.
Sometimes I wonder what the hell we’re even doing. Seven’s still in danger, but while the Lockwoods aren’t making a move, we’re just waiting . I’ve never been good at waiting, and neither is Vortex.
My mother puts the rolled up enchiladas into the oven. “It should only be another twenty minutes or so,” she says. “I’ll set a timer and come back when it’s done.”
I shake my head. “You don’t have to go, Mamá. Right, guys?” I give Seven and Vortex pointed glances.
“Of course not,” Vortex says without hesitation. “I know we’re strangers, but Hav— Javier speaks so highly of you. Besides, I’m sure you have all sorts of embarrassing stories about him from childhood.”
Seven’s expression flickers with uncertainty, but Vortex looks positively gleeful at the idea of getting dirt about me from my younger years.
“I was a terrible kid,” I say, without hesitation. “Anger issues, getting into fights, staying out late or running off on my own.” I turn to my mother. “For which I am really, really sorry. You didn’t deserve what I put you through.”
Vortex instantly looks guilty, but before he can speak, my mother comes over to me to pull me into a fierce hug.
“Thank you, mijo,” she murmurs into my hair. “But I don’t need you to apologize. You’re doing so well. You only needed…” She hesitates. “Maybe you needed the right person.”
I return the hug, and I’m about to say something particularly schmaltzy when somebody pounds on the door.
Everybody goes quiet and tenses. Vortex stands up and reaches toward his hip, as if he had a gun holstered there.
“Sofía!” a disgustingly familiar voice shouts. “I know you’re in there! Come out!” The pounding starts up again.
“Fuck,” I mutter, getting up. “Go to the bedroom and lock the door, Mamá. Vortex and I will handle this.”
“I can talk to him,” my mother pleads.
Seven goes to her, and he says softly, “Please let him handle this. I’ll keep you company.”
She casts a desperate look in the direction of the door. “Javier…”
The fact that she uses my full name tears at me, but before I can say anything, Marcus calls out again.
“Let’s go,” Seven tells her, his voice surprisingly firm as he carefully takes her hand and tugs her in the direction of the bedroom.
My mother hesitates, but she lets Seven lead her into the bedroom. The door closes quietly behind them. I don’t hear the lock engage, but I can only ask for so much.
“Sofía! Come on, please! You haven’t even told me what I’ve done! Whatever it is, we can talk about it!” Marcus shouts.
My jaw drops in disbelief. “He hasn’t… He fucking knows what he’s done.”
“He absolutely knows what he did,” Vortex agrees. “Which includes hiding her documents. We need to find out where he actually put them and get them back.”
“The lawyer has started the process to get replacements, but if we can find the originals, yeah.” I let out a frustrated growl. “How did he even find this address? I never told him where I moved to.”
Vortex shakes his head. “I don’t know. He’s going to keep pounding on the door until we get rid of him, though.” He studies me, his expression wary. “Do you want me to handle it?”
I shake my head. “I’ll do it. You can be backup.” I try to take a breath to calm myself, but there’s no fucking way I’m staying calm. I head to the door and open it forcefully. “Shut the fuck up, you asshole,” I growl.
Marcus looks taken aback, then he scowls. “Where’s Sofía?” He looks past me. “Sofía! Come out! I just want to talk.”
I shake my head and keep blocking the doorway. “She doesn’t want to talk to you. You’re done. The next time you hear from her, it’ll be about a divorce. Got it?”
The fact that Vortex is standing behind me keeps me from completely losing my shit, but the way Marcus tries to push past me has my blood boiling.
“I only want to talk to her,” Marcus snaps at me. “This is her decision, not yours, boy.”
I haven’t been a boy in years.
“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” I repeat. “She doesn’t want anything to do with you.”
Except I hear the bedroom door open behind me, and Marcus takes advantage of my brief distraction to shove past me and into my apartment. Vortex is right there, grabbing his arm in a grip tight enough to make Marcus grit his teeth.
“Let go of me,” he snaps. “I just want to talk to Sofía. Sofía, talk to me.” His voice is much gentler when he addresses my mother, who looks lost and uncertain.
“Mamá, you don’t need to talk to him,” I tell her. I wish she’d stayed in the bedroom with Seven, who shakes his head when I catch his gaze.
I’m so afraid that she’s going to change her mind again — seven times , the literature had said — but I have to believe that she won’t go back to him.
“I don’t have anything to say,” my mother says softly.
Seven wraps his arm around her, like we always do for him when he needs comfort, and while he looks awkward, he’s also glaring at Marcus.
Marcus tries to shake Vortex off, to no avail. “Sofía, come on. We haven’t even discussed anything yet. Are you really going to throw our marriage away because your kid is acting out?”
My vision goes hazy with anger. “Acting out? I’m the one acting out? You’re the asshole who’s been beating her, degrading her, isolating her?—”
“Oh, Javi, he’s never beaten me,” she says, and I can see it now. She’s going to return with him, convinced that he was never that bad, that things could be okay again. It only makes my fury worse, and I want to beat the bastard into a pulp.