Chapter 12
Adriana
Present Day
By the time I’m done cleaning, it’s midday and the sun is high in the sky.
The smell of sazón fills the air, blending with the sound of the salsa playing outside.
Kids run around the fire hydrants laughing and splashing water as the neighbors come together to have some fun in this hot weather. How I’ve missed this…
I lean against the counter, watching Yael charm the regulars into another domino match to kill time. It’s funny to see how much he actually enjoys it now. Before, the only part he enjoyed was screaming capicú because it ended with me naked and him inside me. Now you can see the genuine enjoyment.
The way his brows knit together when he’s locked in on the board, my heart sings at the sight.
A deep sigh escapes me. There's always a heaviness that comes with reminiscing. One I’d rather avoid, so I focus on the small list sitting on the counter.
Full of names and numbers. A promise written in ink, but promises don’t pay the bills.
It’s slower today than it has been since I’ve been working the bodega.
Which makes me wonder if it’s due to the construction going on.
I bite down on my lip, thinking of ideas to help bring attention to the tournament.
The loud sound of clacking and Ruben’s voice pulls me out of my head.
I move away from the counter, to head outside and listen to the playful banter.
It’s Friday, which means tomorrow the tournament officially begins, and my body hums with nervous energy and anticipation. Don Rogelio, my Abuelo’s oldest friend, looks up at me, fedora resting on his bald head, thin gold frames sitting on his nose.
“Mija, qué dichosos son los ojos que te ven,”* he teases, before slamming down a tile on the small table. I smile, coyly inching closer to inspect the table. The game is almost over, there’s no tiles left in the boneyard. Whoever has a three to match the end, closes the game.
“Ven nina juega una mano aquí con estos viejos,”* Don Rogelio suggests tapping the milk crate sitting beside him.
I shake my head and reply, “No puedo estoy ocupada limpiando.” *
Ruben grins and, as expected, what leaves his mouth is a common sexist comment. How nice it is to have a woman who cleans around, blah… blah… and when the others chime in, I take my cue and leave.
I’ve had my share of hearing this crap.
Growing up, they would always say a woman’s place is in the kitchen concinando*, or in bed ready to please her man.
God forbid you have a life that doesn’t revolve around your man or reproducing some kids.
I never understood that, but I fell victim to the trap anyway.
Which is why I believe it took me so long to realize that.
I didn’t notice that with Lenny I was becoming the very thing I hated.
I wipe my sweaty palms against my jeans and head back inside, the air thick with the remnant smell of fried empanadas my aunt cooked earlier.
Ignoring the pang of hunger, I busy myself organizing the shelves that contain women's products.
My hands move absentmindedly, while my thoughts race inside my head trying to come up with a solution.
Only to conclude social media is the best way to spread the news and fast. The small bell hanging by the front door chimes, signaling a customer.
The energy shifts in the room, her presence hard to dismiss—it’s like a mosquito, nagging and insistent.
Looking over my shoulder, I take in Estrella, who saunters over to one of the fridges and opens the door.
As much as I want to kick her out, she’s a paying customer and we have a business to run.
But that all goes out the window the moment she grabs the malta and deliberately opens her hand.
The glass bottle falls onto the ground with a soft crash.
I rise to my feet, storming towards her.
“Seriously?” I sneer through gritted teeth, biting the urge to make her eat the shards that adorn the floor. “Get out.”
Her big brown eyes go round, Estrella puts on her best performance. “It was an accident,” she quips. “Don’t you know. It’s bad for business to be such a bitch.”
She smirks, and I want nothing but to wipe it from her face.
Then the bell chimes again, the sound cutting through the air like a warning.
Lenny steps in, dressed in a green polo and black slacks, very much business casual.
But he’s not alone, beside him—investors.
The kind who look at Altura and see numbers instead of people.
“Adri,” he greets me like it’s not the first time we’ve spoken since I left. Then he turns to the two men beside him. “Gentlemen,” he adds smoothly, “this is Adriana, my partner.” The words land like a slap to the face and I flinch, though I recover quickly. If I was pissed before, I’m raging now.
I straighten my posture, and with a firmness I say, “Ex. Ex girlfriend.”
Lenny’s eyes narrow, anger quickly flashing in his features before it fades into a charming smile—a dismissive one that down plays my words.
From where I stand, I can see Estrella as she watches with a raised brow, delighted by the spectacle I’m sure.
“Oh, this just got interesting,” she murmurs loud enough for all of us to hear.
“Can we talk?” I ask Lenny, ignoring her and the investors, emphasizing the word… “Privately,” when I say it.
He gestures towards the back door with a smug look on his face.
“Of course.” With that, he turns towards the two men and tells them it shouldn’t take him long and for them to browse around, which they immediately do.
We walk towards the back, stopping right before the steps that lead to the inside of the main house.
I cross my arms. “Back off, if you stop pushing the investors…” My voice drops. “I’ll consider coming back.”
He laughs, low and cruel. Surprising the fuck out of me.
“You think love outweighs money? Altura’s dying, Adri. The only way your plan wins is if they all band together, and they won’t.” Then he leans in, voice dropping to a whisper. “Your grandfather’s mortgage is behind, I could help… if you come back.”
My stomach twists. “You’re lying.”
He shrugs. “Believe what you want. I’m just offering options.”
With that, he walks away with his hands tucked inside his pockets. Each step full of confidence, like a man soaking up his victory. I swallow down the bile, realizing I never really knew the real Lenny, because there’s no way I thought I loved him.
No way.
The rest of the day dragged by. Thankfully, Ruben was kind enough to step in to close, giving me time to rest, eat, and shower before meeting up with Yael tonight.
I scroll through my phone, researching which social media platform could help us reach the most people.
The problem is obvious—we have no following. That’s when I stumble upon Yael’s page.
That’s when the lightbulb goes off.
Thirst traps.
After hours of scrolling, it’s clear. The post that pulls the most views is always the one that shows off skin and raunchiness. And then the idea comes to life, all I have to do is get Yael on board.
By the time the moon emerges from behind the clouds, I’m ready to go.
Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself, only to change, but my options are limited when you’re wearing things from when you were just a teen.
Everything fits me too tight, but not in the way that’s uncomfortable…
instead it makes me look hot. My tits poke out the top of the hot pink halter top that rides a little high, showing off my midriff.
My jean skirt hugs my curves, my pulse hammers away, and the anticipation has me dizzy and creating scenarios in my head.
All of which lead to me naked and spread open for him.
Pressing a cool hand against my forehead, I groan loudly.
“No seas tan pendaja,*” I mutter to myself. “Stay focused.”
I give myself a few seconds of panic before I reel myself back in and head out.
When I step outside, the warm night air clings to my skin, it’s humid and sticky.
Just the kind of heat that makes you want to dive head first into ice cold water.
Why he would want to meet here is beyond me.
Yet, here I am, clinging to my phone, my heart beating so fast I can feel it in my throat as I climb the stairs that lead to the roof.
Yael is already here, when I finally make it up. Sitting on the ledge wearing nothing but basketball shorts and black Forces, his pencil moving over the paper with artist precision. He looks up when he hears me. “You’re late.”
I shrug. “Be happy that I’m here. I also came up with an idea,” I say, dropping beside him. “A good one.”
He arches a brow. “A good one? Then I gotta hear it. Lay it on me, beautiful.”
I roll my eyes, ignoring the flutters that fill my belly. “Thirst traps, that’s how we’ll get visibility.” Using my shoulder, I nudge him. The contact sends sparks all through me. “And with a hot papi Chulo promoting the tournaments, it’s an instant hit.”
He blinks.“Calling me hot? Use me? Look at that.”
“Get over yourself.” I grin, flipping through my app and show him the men who practically fuck their food while cooking.
So many likes and comments. “You’re the bait.
We post clips of you cooking. You know, doing sexy things with dominoes, shirt open or no shirt at all.
” My grin widens. “Exploiting the whole ‘Altura’s hottest player’ thing.
Women will flood the comments, and once they’re watching, they’ll bet. The more eyes, the more money.”
Yael laughs, low and surprised. “You want me to thirst trap the neighborhood?”
“I do.”
He shakes his head, smiling despite himself. “Mmm… your idea might be wild enough to work. Dangerous woman you are.”
“Effective,” I correct.
He slides open his notebook and shows me what he’s been working on. Bold red and blue color fills the background, clean lines and domino tiles forming a heart on the brick grey walls.
“It’s not done yet, but I was thinking something like this for the flyers,” he says almost nervously. “Down here I will add the tournament schedule, sponsors, QR codes for bets.”
I lean in to read, our shoulders brushing. The touch sends sparks all through me, making me swallow hard, when his scent invades my lungs. He doesn’t move away, he’s so close I can hear each ragged breath.
“Looks good,” I whisper.
“Yeah?” His voice drops, rougher now.
And when I make the mistake of glancing up, he’s already watching me—that same look he used to give right before saying capicú. Making liquid heat settle in my core. The space between us disappears, and before I can blink, he kisses me.
It’s quick at first, a light caress against my lips, then his tongue traces the seam of my mouth, asking for entry to which I grant with a groan that he swallows within his mouth.
The world narrows down to heat and the pulse between us.
It’s dangerous to be this high up with our tongues battling for dominance.
Then the light flickers— once, twice— and the power cuts out completely.
My eyes fling open, we pull away, breathless with my lips swollen and tingling.
“What the fuck?” He says, looking over the dark city, people are already beginning to emerge from inside their homes, and from where we sit—they can definitely see us. “Guess that’s our cue.”
I smile, still catching my breath… my fucking thoughts. “Tomorrow,” I manage to say. “We’ll finish the plan tomorrow.”
He nods, eyes lingering on mine as I climb off the ledge. “Tomorrow.”
Something twists inside my chest, my hands grow sweaty for the first time in what feels like forever. Altura is quiet… And I’m not sure if I’m planning on the future or starting a fire that will consume me.
* “Mija, qué dichosos son los ojos que te ven,” - Girl, blessed are the eyes that see you.
* “Ven nina juega una mano aquí con estos viejos,” - Come girl, give this old man a hand.
* No puedo estoy ocupada limpiando. - I can’t, I’m busy cleaning.
* concinando - cooking
* No seas tan pendaja - Don’t be such an idiot.