Chapter Two. The Body in The Van
CHAPTER TWO
THE BODY IN THE VAN
There’s a moment after leaving the air conditioning when I think, This is okay. I can handle it. It’s like when you cut yourself shaving and at first there’s no blood but then surprise! Your shin looks like something out of a Stephen King novel.
That’s what’s happening to me now, but there’s no Band-Aid that can fix this.
It’s too hot to stand still, but also too hot to move.
My eyeballs feel like they’re being flambéed.
When the Three Sisters minivan pulls up to the curb, wavering in the heat like a mirage, I use the last of my life force to throw myself into the back seat.
The AC is blasting. I lift my head so the air can hit me in the face, whimpering softly. Sofia, the youngest of the Reyes sisters, twists to hand me a glass water bottle dripping with condensation. Before I take a drink, I roll the ice-cold surface across my forehead and cheeks.
“Thanks,” I gasp between sips.
“Summer,” she says, like that explains it.
Which I guess it does, since I usually come the week between Christmas and New Year, and again during spring break, when the weather is warm but not trying to cook you alive.
June is when Grandma Lainey typically visits us, by which I mean “me,” since she’s theoretically babysitting while my mom’s boss takes their whole office on vacation.
My grandmother is to babysitters as Mary Poppins is to nannies (adventurous, colorful, not especially risk-averse), but it’s easier on everyone if she and my mom don’t spend too many nights under the same roof.
When I go to Florida, Grandma Lainey always books Three Sisters Transportation to pick me up and drop me off, as well as for the occasional day trip, so over the years I’ve gotten to know all of them.
You can tell a lot about their personalities by their background listening.
Carmen likes loud, up-tempo pop, Elena prefers soothing classical, and Sofia is a news junkie.
Running the shuttle is a side hustle while they put themselves through school, but they’re professional about it, down to the jade green shirts embroidered with the company name.
According to my grandma, they’ve cornered the coveted “errands for old people” market.
“How was the flight?” Sofia asks as the radio station delivers a weather update (ninety-five degrees and 90 percent humidity). She’s not that much older than I am, but it seems like a bigger gap since she turned twenty-one and took on more of the driving duties.
“Good.” My fingers find the paper in my pocket. This is the first time someone has given me their number spontaneously, in public, like we’re in a movie. And the tiny sketch below it, of a girl in a cute dress and sneakers? That’s definitely me.
Maybe I’ll text him. Would that be weird?
“What about your mom? Is she doing okay?”
My grin deflates. Speaking of strange.
“She just got married.” Most people default to remarried, because of Mom’s age and the fact that she has me, but this was her first “I do.”
Sofia catches my eye in the rearview mirror. “And how’s that going?”
“It’s different.” There is nothing objectively wrong with my stepfather, aside from the fact that I am not used to him living at my house. Where he can hold my mom’s hand at the breakfast table even if it means awkwardly eating his cereal left-handed.
Her mouth softens in sympathy. “We’re waiting on one more person and then we’ll get on the road.”
I’m anxious about being late, but I don’t want to seem like a diva, so I nod. The side door slides open, and I recoil at the rush of hot air—and then flinch all over again when I see Felix standing there with his bag.
Is he following me? Before that thought can work its way to my mouth, Sofia offers a cheerful, “Hey Felix. Hop in.”
Huh. She knows his name. I guess it’s not that bizarre. Sofia and her sisters are running a business, so of course they have other clients, even if I tend to think of them as part of the extended Castle Claude family.
Felix is still standing on the pavement, letting the hideous humidity pour into the van. It finally clicks that he’s waiting for me to move over, even though there’s a perfectly good third row of seats. I slide over to the window, arms locked to my sides to avoid accidental contact.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he says, like we are the punch line to a hilarious joke.
Sofia puts the van in drive. “You and Virginia already know each other, right?”
Let it go, I urge him with my eyes.
“She told me her name was Katie,” Felix says unhelpfully.
“Nickname?” Sofia asks.
“Something like that,” I mumble. Luckily, she’s too busy merging into the exit lane to notice the cloud of awkwardness emanating from the back seat.
Sofia neatly slides the van in front of a slow bus, and I admire her confidence behind the wheel. I’d still be parked in the inside lane, blinker flashing. “It’s nice your flights came in at the same time, so we can all go together.”
“All go together to…?” I trail off, not following.
“Claude’s thing.” She crosses herself, and I notice she’s wearing a bright yellow sundress in place of the usual uniform. It matches the bleached streak in the front of her hair.
“What about him?” I jerk a thumb at Felix.
He frowns at me, like I’m the interloper. “What do you mean, what about me? What about you?”
“I’m in the will.”
“So am I,” he fires back.
“That makes three of us,” Sofia chimes in, while I’m still reeling from Felix’s bombshell. “We should start a club.”
“Or a band,” Felix suggests.
“I’m not musical.” I present this as if it’s the primary obstacle to an otherwise fabulous plan.
“You could hold a tambourine.”
Patronizing, party of one. “How do you know Claude?”
He scratches the side of his head, like the answer is so deep and complex it requires extra thought. I make a point of not noticing the thickness of his hair. It would probably be curly if he let it grow out, which seems unfair.
“I was basically Claude’s honorary grandchild,” Felix finally says. “He liked to say he was my—”
“Fairy godfather,” I interrupt.
Now Felix looks weirded out. “How do you know that?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” I chew my lip, ready to talk about something else. “You said you were here visiting your grandfather.”
“Sorry I didn’t tell you the story of my life, Virginia. I’m visiting my granddad, Alejandro Gutierrez. Claude was one of his best friends.”
I think the heat must have scrambled my brains. “That’s impossible.”
“It’s really not.” He reaches into his pocket. “I can show you my Ancestry account.”
That sidetracks me. “You put a genealogy app on your phone?”
“Is that not cool enough for you, Space Cats?”
“Mr. Gutierrez is your grandfather.” I have a foggy memory of hearing about a grandson, and the immediate brain worm of jealousy that followed, because what if they liked him better?
But no one’s mentioned him for ages. Long enough to lull me into a false sense of being the precious only grandkid of the entire building. “You’re super into art or something?”
I leave out the part about him being a quote-unquote prodigy. Allegedly.
“I’ve gotten more into theater these last few years.
I was painting sets and then I thought, why not?
It sounded fun, and I can sing, plus I’d done a fair amount of acting with my grandad.
” His eyes light like he can’t wait to tell me this next part.
“He and his friends play this mystery game. It’s like Clue but instead of a board game you act it out, with costumes and props—”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Trust me, it’s awesome. Like solving a puzzle but you’re also in the puzzle, with all this suspense and drama. Plus there’s a ticking clock to solve the mystery before everyone else.”
I cannot believe he just mansplained my favorite game to me. As if I’m not an expert with literal years of experience. “You play Killing Me Softly?”
“You know about it? I thought I was the only person our age who was into that stuff.” He gestures between us like we’re BFFs who are about to braid each other’s hair.
The bit about the will was bad enough, but at least I could tell myself Felix was a minor player, on the fringes of Claude’s life. If he’s Mr. Gutierrez’s grandson and they let him play Killing Me Softly, it doesn’t get much more inner circle than that.
And maybe part of me is annoyed that Felix had the nerve to go out for theater, when I’ve always looked at my school’s audition notices with a secret yearning.
But the theater kids had already decided who they were by freshman year, and I can’t imagine trying to break into that fortress, because at-home Virginia is less bold than the version of me I get to be at Castle Claude.
“For such nice people, they do love murder,” Sofia says, tapping the steering wheel with her right hand while we idle at a stoplight.
I grunt in agreement before turning my attention to the window to avoid looking at Felix, who is apparently living my life, only better.
“How are your sisters?” he asks Sofia, and I instantly feel bad for not being the one to mention them.
“Not great,” she replies. “Here’s some advice: Never marry a DJ.”
I lean sideways so I can see her face in the rearview mirror. “Carmen got married?”
“Elena,” she corrects.
Felix and I exchange a brief look of surprise, which I quickly pretend didn’t happen.
“Long story short, it didn’t work out,” Sofia continues. “And she had moved into his place because it was closer to his gym so now Elena is couch surfing and he’s trying to get part of our business in the divorce. A real prince.”
“I’d rather be farther from my gym,” Felix volunteers. “If I had a gym.”
Sofia cracks a smile, some of the tension leaving her face. “He’s a semiprofessional bodybuilder. I think it was the abs that melted Elena’s brain.”
“That’s one thing I never have to worry about.” Felix leaves it at that, like his meaning should be obvious.
“Because you wouldn’t fall for a six-pack?” I ask.
“Twelve-pack or nothing for me.” He laughs at his own joke. “No, I mean no one is going to love me for my body. All the good stuff is up here.” He taps the side of his head.
“The good stuff?” I repeat, like I must have misheard.
“Brains, charm, jokes—the total package.”
It’s possible he’s kidding, but just in case his ego really is that big, I turn away with a skeptical huff.
As we get farther into town, Sofia updates us on all the new construction: another high-rise, a fancy restaurant by the water, rumors of a bigger, better golf course. They’re always building something, even though this place is mostly sand, swamp, and water.
“Under every rock there’s a knuckle-dragger who thinks he can make a quick buck in real estate,” Grandma Lainey explained when I was ten. “That’s why it’s important to be a woman of property. Don’t let your mother sell this place when I die.”
The Pepto-Bismol pink spires of Castle Claude come into view, and I feel a familiar rush of anticipation. At least no one has built a strip mall on this block.
“You guys sad about Claude?” Sofia asks.
“Yeah,” Felix replies without hesitation. It shouldn’t surprise me that he’s comfortable talking about feelings. Probably a requirement for musical theater.
“It’s going to be strange not having him there,” I volunteer, because I too have a sensitive side.
“He’ll still be there in spirit. Not a ghost,” Felix clarifies. “The spirit of the place. Like the mood and the vibes.”
“I got that.” It sounds snippy, even though I agree. My grandmother calls this having a “petty party,” because being unreasonable can be fun.
“Excuse you, dickhead!” Sofia yells, slamming on the brakes. At first, I think she too is annoyed with Felix for having the audacity to exist. Then a flash of red catches my eye as a sports car zooms into the parking lot behind the building.
The other vehicle screeches to a stop. A guy in mirrored sunglasses jumps out, reaching over his shoulder to beep-beep the doors locked as he strides off. As far as I can tell, he still hasn’t noticed the large white van he nearly ran off the road.
“Is that him?” Felix asks. “Your sister’s ex.”
Sofia frowns. “Ricky drives a Kia. And his head is shaved. He’s also like six inches taller. And Black.”
“So that’s a no,” Felix translates. “It was just a working hypothesis.”
He’s trying to play it off, but I get a hit of secondhand embarrassment, having done the same mental math (muscles + jerk) and reached a similarly erroneous conclusion. The only thing worse than watching a brilliant deduction crash and burn is knowing other people witnessed your mistake.
“Then who is that guy?” I ask, only Sofia must not hear because she’s already hopping out of the van.
There’s a beat of awkward silence before Felix says, “I guess we should go in.”
I nod. Then I slide my eyes across him to the door, silently reminding him that he’s sitting between me and the exit.
What is— Oh no. Is he about to get weepy over Claude?
Surely he doesn’t think I’m the right person to share some deep emotional breakdown with.
A quick mental inventory tells me there are a couple of tissues in my bag, but I can’t promise they haven’t been used.
“We could do a bit,” he says at last.
“Excuse me?”
“When we go in. A little comedy thing. Just for fun,” he stresses, like maybe I’m worried about the quality of the performance. “They won’t see it coming.”
I pause to see if he’s going to crack, but he appears to be serious. “What did you have in mind?”
“Have you ever done any mime?”
I stare at him, stone-faced.
“See? You’re a natural.” He laughs at his own joke before turning slightly more serious. “What if you go in and pretend I missed my flight and then I pop out and surprise everyone?”
And let him make a grand entrance, like a conquering hero? No thank you. I shake my head.
“Or we could stage a really loud argument, and then you throw a drink in my face?”
“Tempting.”
“I’ve got it!” He stabs a finger skyward. “Let’s pretend we’ve fallen madly in love on the ride over and walk in there all, ‘Oh my darling, my smoochie pie.’”
I put a hand to my forehead like I can’t believe my ears. Which is true, but I’m mostly trying to hide the inferno raging across my cheeks. “Maybe not at a funeral. You know?”
“But it’s Claude’s funeral. He would think it was hilarious. Anyway, it’s more of a celebration of life,” Felix tacks on, sounding less sure of himself.
He’s not wrong about Claude, who adored melodrama.
The problem is me, in the sense that I’m not sure I can hold my own.
It’s one thing to throw myself into a game of Killing Me Softly, but I’m used to acting in front of the Castle Claude crew.
Felix is semipro, and my age, on top of which, we just met.
I don’t want to start this vacation by getting shown up.
“Let’s just be normal,” I tell him. “For today.”
Felix shrugs. “Anything for you, Snookums.”