Chapter 31
thirty-one
Natalia
The words from my chat with Papa stick with me for days.
I can’t quite bring myself to believe they’re real, that my mom was capable of the things Papa hinted at.
Even worse, the more time I spend around Matias, the more I understand.
I understand why she could have possibly found this life interesting. Challenging.
When he leaves my bed early in the morning, or coaxes me to come to his house late at night after he’s done with work…I can’t help but stick beside him like a shadow. To watch his men when they think no one’s looking. To listen to his work calls early in the morning before he wakes up and help him.
And when I catch myself giving alternate transportation routes after a bust, I’m not quite sure how I can deny what Papa said. Because as much as I wanted to burn this world to the ground…I don’t hate it.
My face burns at the idea that I may actually enjoy this. As long as Matias is by my side.
Alma crashes into the folding chair next to me, putting an abrupt stop to my rumination.
“Whew!” She dabs at the sheen of sweat on her forehead.
“No more dancing, Tio! I need a break!” Her shout barely registers over the blaring music, but Alma’s uncle gets the message.
The round, balding man waves her off with a smile before looking for his next dance partner, taking measured steps to the beat of the classic salsa song playing in the background.
Alma fans herself, and the details of the wedding around me sweep in all at once like a wave.
A line of kids sprint behind us, running around the backyard in a makeshift game of tag as parents, grandparents, cousins and friends dart around the flashing dance floor.
The bride and groom are at the center of it all, spinning to the beat of trumpets and drums like water flowing in a river.
I admire from a distance, sighing when Hector, the groom, dips his bride.
“I asked you if you wanted to dance.” Alma cuts in breathlessly, motioning at the dance floor.
“Oh well. You’re too tired to go now.” I say, joking.
Alma holds up a finger. “I just need a second. Tio Ricky used to dance competitively in New York, no one can keep up with him.” I grin, taking another bite of fluffy almond cake, sighing when the frosting melts in my mouth.
Good God. As long as I’m Latina, I’m never going to lose my extra fluff.
An errant breeze ruffles across the generously sized backyard, delicate lace tablecloths and streamers swaying in the wind.
“You like the cake? Titi Marcia made it.” I nod enthusiastically, wondering if it would make me look like a bad guest if I went up to the cake table and picked up another slice.
“Give her my compliments.”
Alma’s face falls. “She just loudly asked me why I’m the last single cousin. I will be doing no such thing.”
I gasp. “She didn’t say that.”
“Oh yes, she did. Like it’s not her fault that I’m still dealing with that weirdo she tried setting me up with.” Alma looks at her phone. “He won’t stop texting. I blocked him, and he popped out with another number.”
“Sounds like you have a stalker.”
“That’s what I said. But no, it’s just ‘Alma being dramatic again’, according to Marcia.” She looks at her lap, and for all of her bravado, I know it pains her to be here alone, In a family where not having a partner and kids categorically puts you in a big box labeled ‘FAILURE’.
I glance around the yard, watching her gaggle of cousins and their respective partners scattered around the yard. I know all-too-well what it’s like to not be taken seriously by family. And although they mean no harm by it, I refuse to let my friend get harassed.
“Want me to talk to the guys? They can make the stalker stop, at least.”
Alma pauses. “Like…your boyfriend?”
I give her a shy nod. Is that the right term for Matias and I? “Or Santos, maybe?”
My friend snorts. “What’s he going to do, throw insults and wave a walking stick at him?” As amusing as I find the idea, it brings me great pleasure to correct her.
“Santos is regaining his sight. He’ll be back to normal soon.”
“Really?” She leans forward. “So is he more or less insufferable than before?”
“You can find out by stopping by for lunch tomorrow.”
“I’m busy.” She says over the music, pretending to look at her nails.
“That’s too bad. He keeps asking about you.”
“…Is that so?”
Santos hasn’t stopped singing her praises since the second time she stopped by to help him, and no matter how much I ask, he won’t tell me what changed. “What happened last time you came over?”
“Nothing.” Alma shrugs. “I gave him that joint he kept pestering me about.” The expression on her face is innocent enough, but Alma, like me, is great at disguising things beneath the surface.
“Just a joint, hm?”
“We smoked together. I think he thinks we’re friends now.” Yeah, that sounds like Santos. Before I can live vicariously through Alma with all of my follow-up questions, she jumps to her feet.
“I need a drink. Do you want something?” I settle for some water, sighing to myself when I spot a kid sleeping on a bed of chairs next to the drinks.
There’s a lot to be said for a child’s ability to persevere.
To just…jump back on their feet and throw themselves back onto the universe.
I’m not sure when adulthood became so complicated, or when everything started feeling so fragile.
Two days ago, I had my lawyer draft a letter for Jake and Agent Bryce, formally withdrawing from their case. After that afternoon with Papa…well, I may have walked out with more questions than I did going in, but one thing is for sure.
I picked a side. And this nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me that Agent Bryce won’t be keen on accepting that.
My cell pings with an incoming message, and my stomach swirls with both excitement and trepidation when I see Matias’ name on my screen.
Where are you?
With Alma. Her cousin’s wedding is today.
I glance at the cake in front of him and send another text before thinking about it too hard.
Want a slice of cake?
Can you come to my house? I need to talk to you.
The abrupt text makes me sit up straight.
Is everything okay?
Instantly, the cake in my stomach turns into a block. And even though there’s a voice in the back of my head that urges me not to worry, there’s a louder thrum that screams: he knows. He knows! Bryce burned me, and Matias is waiting for me at his house with a gun.
It feels like an eternity before he replies.
No.
No, everything is not okay. Each outgoing message to him after that goes unanswered, and I’m not sure if it’s because he’s turned off his phone or because he’s just gone off to do something and is too busy to reply.
Freezing waves of nerves strike me as I clamber to my feet and pick up my belongings, giving Alma a pasted-on smile when she comes back.
“I have to go. Matias needs me.”
Alma gives me a sly look, like she thinks I’m going to drive to his house and jump into his arms. Little does she know…
I get a few hugs on the way out, Alma’s mom shoving a plate of food and cake in my hands before I walk through the wooden gate leading into the street. The music is just an afterthought as I walk around the house, my legs shaking as I fumble for the keys to my house.
A couple of men smoking by the street give me a friendly nod as I leave, and I really try to keep the smile on my face until I get to the car. Finally, when I turn my little car on, my body gives out, angry trembles wracking my body.
Does he know?
Santos would have warned me, right?
Let’s face it, anyone that crossed Matias in this way, that is willing to betray him to the highest degree, wouldn’t get a text asking for me to simply drop by. Even if he knows, he wouldn’t hurt me that way. But that almost makes it worse.
I’d rather face his anger than the cool detachment he gave me that night of our breakup.
I put my car into gear and fly down the street, trying to calm the terror that beats in my chest when I start thinking about the possibility of him knowing about my betrayal.
If he doesn’t know tonight, he’s going to find out.
Because I can’t live with this secret between us.
As I get on the highway ramp, the thought makes me feel a little better.
Until I realize that telling the truth may be something Matias and I never bounce back from. Ice pricks at my stomach as I imagine all of the ways Matias could react to my secret. None of them make me feel better. None of them end well for me.
I just got him back, I think sadly.
And as I pull into his gated home and drive past the handful of men standing outside, I realize there’s not much I wouldn’t do to keep him. My car looks ridiculous next to the other cars on the property, but no one blinks when I cut the engine and get out of the car.
Here, in the cliffs, the temperature’s dropped to an easy chill. That, combined with the ball of nerves in my stomach, has me walking into the house with chattering teeth.
Santos is splayed out on the sectional. He jumps when the door slams shut behind me, turning to face the door. The light of the massive flat-screen TV washes over his face as he tries his hardest to make out my features.
“Natalia? Is that you?”
It takes me a couple of tries to calm my voice. “You…you recognize me from all the way over there?”
He snorts. “You’re the only person that comes this late.”
Right.
Santos inhales deeply, his nose in the air. “Did you come with food?”
I glance absentmindedly at the plates in my arms. “Uh, yeah…do you want some leftovers?”
He agrees enthusiastically, and I drop some off with him before going to find Matias. Surely, if Matias knew the truth, Santos wouldn’t pester me for food like we’re siblings.
Right?
Matias’ office is warm and dim, the soft light from a banked fire in the corner of the room easing the iceberg sitting on my chest.
“Hi.” I call out. He glances up at me briefly from something on his desk, putting a piece of paper down and leaning back in his chair. The office is silent, save for the warm crackling of the fire as I drop onto the modern leather armchair in front of him.
“You got here fast.” Is all he says, gaze unflinching.
“Your text sounded bad. I was worried about you.” I lean forward in my chair, trying not to let the nerves creep into my voice. “What kind of maniac sends a text that says: ‘no, I’m not okay’ and then never answers the follow-up questions?”
“The kind that needs answers quickly.” Oh, I don’t like the sound of that. Matias reaches into his desk. My heart somersaults, threatening to beat out of my chest, wondering what on earth he’s going to pull out?—
He plops a stack of pictures in front of me.
Pictures of me.
And Dom. Standing outside the California Federal Correctional Facility, his arms wrapped around me in a hug that from this angle, doesn’t look friendly at all.
“What’s going on, Natalia?”