Chapter 18 Thalia
What are you hiding, Ms. Consuelo???
I can see the question in his eyes. Fellipe Gallardo is sitting across from me, going over the details of my current plan in action. It is a reckless plan, but I don’t care. I gave Lucia up because I was afraid of Ivan. But Ivan is dead now, so what am I waiting for? Why am I so afraid? I am mad at myself for not fighting for her then. I am mad at my family for letting my underdeveloped brain make such a big decision. I am mad at them for holding me to my end of the deal—living like a secondary provider for her. I don’t want to confuse her, but I need her to know. She deserves to know the truth. I deserve to prove myself worthy of her. Not to my family, but to her.
The workdays have been longer than normal since I had ruined everyone’s night at the Christmas party. Ariella is still mad about the dildo, and I’m pretty sure even Guapo is ignoring me. I had packed a large suitcase and left it in my room. I am feeling like Dorothy the day she was ready to escape that ghetto ass farm. If things go well tonight with Fellipe, then I will be boarding a plane to Tamaulipas in the morning.
Mr. Gallardo pushes over a manila envelope, and I open it to view the documents. I take out a pen from my purse. My hand fights against me. I try again and that same pang on my side won’t let up. Just sign the fucking papers, Thalia. I give him a curt smile and drop the pen in defeat. His eyes narrow to my shaky hand.
“How about we enjoy our meal and then we can discuss the signing?” he offers.
My grandfather’s jet is waiting for me. I need to do this. I need to release whatever false attachments I have to this property. I had never even seen the place, but the location itself isn’t what I am attached to. It’s him. The ghost of him and the illusion that life is only survived through suffering. I’m tired of suffering.
“Se?or Gallardo, if you’ll excuse me.”
I rush to the bathroom and splash water on my face. Pull it together, Thalia. Pull it the fuck together. I can’t use my trust fund money. That would tip my family off. I need to sell this property, then I can take Lucia and we can go into hiding.
I make my way back to the table and Fellipe stands to pull out my chair for me. The restaurant’s atmosphere is dark and quiet; it’s a private restaurant in the higher end of Houston. Subtle art hangs on the walls, and low classical music sets the tone.
“Mrs. Consuelo, I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberties of ordering you a wine.”
“Thank you.” I need something stronger than wine to take the edge off. His gaze falls to my lips, and he smiles when I bring the glass to my mouth. My phone sounds at a new text message, and I ignore it.
“The documents are an initial offer from my client. It’s not anything you need to feel pressured about right now. Take all the time you need.” I take the manila folder and slide it into my bag. My phone rings, and I look down to see the unknown number. When I send it to voicemail, they call back.
“Did you need to get that?”
“No, it’s just someone pestering me.” I shut the phone off, and Fellipe pours me another glass of wine while we wait for our meal. Something about the unknown caller piques my anxiety. All week, a bad feeling has loomed over me. The call feels like another of many signs I have received this week that something bad is going to happen. I can’t help but think of that tower card that was pulled for me, the flames bursting in the windows as two figures jump out of the high tower.
Fellipe continues to talk about his client, but my eyes are hyper focused on his mouth. The light in the room seems brighter, almost blurry. Fellipe’s voice sounds far away, and my ears begin ringing. Everything around me moves in slow motion. I readjust my eyes, desperate to shake myself out of it. My hallucinations take another form when I make out several blurry figures walking toward us. Through my fading consciousness, I make out the familiar clown-masked man.
People scream and run in all directions when the shots ring out. I reach for my gun, but I’m not quick enough. An unmasked man approaches me, and I hurl my fist toward him. I feel the impact and move to escape, but trip over my chair. My breathing is rapid, and the ringing in my head won’t stop. Another blurry image straddles me and zipties my hands behind my back before pulling me to my feet. I cry out when I see the familiar tattooed hand that holds a knife to Fellipe’s throat. He rips open the front of Fellipe’s shirt to reveal the Bandoleros’ sigil on his left pec. Then I watch as he slowly pushes the tip of the knife through Fellipe Gallardo’s neck. The image slowly fades, and everything around me goes black.
I wake up and readjust my eyes to my surroundings. I pry myself up from the mattress and immediately feel the blood rushing to my head. My hands shoot up to apply pressure to the ache in my forehead. I catch sight of the red indentation on my wrists and the most recent memories flood back. Fellipe is a part of Los Bandoleros. Correction: Fellipe was a part of Los Bandoleros, until I watched Prince Uncharming drive a knife into the side of his neck.
I look down and see I’m still in the dress I had worn to dinner. Where the hell are my shoes, though? My eyes shift to the small circular shaped windows in the room. I slowly crawl to one and look down. The vast expanse of the night sky stares back at me. This is not my grandfather’s private plane. I take in a deep breath, and I can hear voices in the distance. Have I been rescued or kidnapped? I reach down my thigh and find Selena waiting there for me in my holster.
I take small steps toward the door that’s been left ajar. Peeking through the tiny crack, I make out two figures sitting across from one another. I continue to watch their interactions until I make out the figure facing toward me. It’s Jasper. I make the sign of the cross in gratitude. Then I remember we’re airborne. Why the fuck would we be airborne if Los Perrigrinos had rescued me? Why not return me to my family?
I remain silent and try to make sense of the whispers. The man with his back to me rises from the seat and moves to the cabin bar. He’s wearing dress pants and a white dress shirt that is rolled to reveal his tan and tattooed forearms. The dress pants mold to his muscular thighs. I can make out the tattoo on the hand that holds the glass. His long hair black hair hangs down to the middle of his back in a low ponytail, that is sectioned off by several hair ties, like some type of fucking Dothraki warrior. Jasper moves to the restroom and my bare feet inch across the floor.
Jasper comes out of the bathroom just as I’ve reached his unmasked partner. I stare at him and cock my gun at the back of Prince Uncharming’s head.
“Move and I’ll shoot,” I say to Jasper, whose hands lift in surrender.
“Who the fuck are you, and what do you want from me?” I say and tremble when the man before me lets out a small laugh—a laugh that causes a small tremble of fear to rise in me. He slowly steps and turns around to face me. I don’t recognize it at first, but then I see it. The eyes. The eyes that are now etched into the face that has been haunting me for years. A cruel smile forms on his lips, and my hands shake at the sight of him. I drop the gun. No . Not him. Anyone but him. My whole body trembles, and my head turns left to right in protest at the man standing in front of me.
“Hello, wifey.”