17. Chapter 17
Veronica
“So grocery shopping is now considered adulting?” Felix asks from over the speaker.
“For me it is.” I’m walking through the produce section at the grocery store. I see a bag of potatoes. “How many potatoes does one person need?”
I hear him laugh, and then a mumbling in the background. “Are you in a meeting?”
“No, your cousin is. I’m just observing.”
I bet you are. I don’t say that out loud. “We can talk later.”
“Not at all, it’s so exciting hearing about your potato excursion.” He loves teasing me.
Felix always makes time for me. Not only is he my cousin’s second-in-command, but he’s like another brother to me.
He’s always understood me. No matter where he is, I can always count on him.
It’s been like that for years, but because he is so close to my brothers and cousins, I refrain from telling him some of the things.
Overwhelmed by the choices of potatoes, I mutter, “Well, let me continue adulting, and you go back to your job.”
He laughs. “Deal, and Veronica.” He pauses. “Don’t burn the kitchen down attempting to cook.”
“Deal, and Felix,” I whisper, “take care of my cousin.”
“Always.”
With groceries weighing down my arms, I enter the lobby of my apartment building.
I can’t recall the last time I checked the mail.
I panic a bit, then take a deep breath. I tend to be forgetful, and knowing what I know about my mother’s health worries me.
I return to the task at hand, trying to push past my fear.
Three seventy-one. I find it. After opening the mailbox, I see that it’s full. Crap, I guess I didn’t check the mail recently. I’m surprised; not many people know where I live. I shove the letters and ads into my tote and head to the elevator.
“Miss, let me help you with that.” It’s Will, the bellman. I didn’t notice him approaching the elevator. I'm about to refuse his help, but I start to lose the feeling in the hand carrying four bags of groceries.
“That would be lovely.” He grabs all my bags. Damn, those were heavy. Standing next to Will, I realize I've never really spoken to him. I know nothing about this kid.
“How do you like working here, Will?”
He looks at me as if I have an extra head. I guess tenants don’t speak to him. “I like it.” He looks down at my bags. “The hours are great, and my boss works with my schedule.”
“What do you do outside of work?” Again, he looks at me like I'm blowing his mind. Really, no one talks to him? He only works here every day.
“I work at my other job,” he shares.
“Another job?” I’m being too nosy. “I’m sorry, Will. I don’t mean to pry.”
“Oh, not at all, miss. I pick up shifts cleaning schools.” He pauses before continuing to open up.
“I live with my grandmother. I take care of her. My mother, well, she left when I was a baby, and my father died when I was five.” The elevator opens, and we walk as he continues to share. “I owe her everything.”
“That’s very noble of you,” I say, the words catching in my throat.
“It’s not noble, miss. I do it because I can. She's my mother.” He says it with so much pride. My guilt, always just beneath the surface, emerges. I open the door to my apartment and motion him to step inside. He takes my place in and moves to set my groceries on the counter. “Thank you, Will.”
“Anytime, miss.”
“Please call me Veronica. I insist.”
He thinks about it. “How about, Ms. Veronica?”
“I’ll take it.” I extend my hand, and he shakes it. “Nice to meet you, Will.”
“Nice to officially meet you, Ms. Veronica.” He smiles politely and exits my apartment.
I set my purse on the counter and see the mail. It’s overflowing in my tote. I pull it out— nothing but ads and my first utility bill. My mind wanders to Will; he works two jobs to support his grandmother, the person who raised him. Meanwhile, I avoid my own because of my fears.
I pick up a familiar black envelope. My hand trembles in recognition.
There is no return address. I use my fingers to feel the contents, and I freeze.
It’s another photograph. I tear the envelope open and see it: me in bed, sleeping.
Only, I’m not sleeping, I'm passed out drunk. I don’t remember when this was, but I know it was during that year when I was with Tony.
I’m thinner in the photo. The dress I'm wearing was a gift from him, a couple of sizes smaller.
I remember going on a strict diet for weeks just to fit into it.
The only person who had these photos is Tony, and he isn’t around for me to ask.
How would anyone get access to these? I need help, but I can’t go to my family, and Felix is a definite no.
Plus, they’ve already done so much for me.
There is only one other person who I can think of.
Goddamn it, he’s the last person I want to ask.
It’s not like I have to see him to ask him for help.
That may soften the blow my ego is going to take.
I talk myself into not backing out and pull out my phone.
I can’t bring myself to do it. Then I look at the photograph and pull up my messages.
I let him know it’s important, then I see the incoming call.
That was fast. I’m not surprised; he’ll take any reason to gloat.
“Princesa,” he says sarcastically. “To what do I owe the honor?”
I haven’t spoken to him in such a long time.
Is that what he sounds like? A smoker. Gross.
The last time I spoke to him, it was more yelling than anything.
It was after he called the police on my date and had him thrown in jail for kidnapping, which it wasn’t.
All because I threw my phone into the ocean so he wouldn’t be able to locate me. He still did. Veronica zero, Miles one.
Over the years, I realized that going to my brothers and complaining about Miles and his antics is no use. So I don’t bother anymore.
“Hello to you, too, Miles.” I can’t help the internal eye roll. “Did I interrupt your nighttime stalking?”
“On the contrary, Princesa, I was looking at my dating app. A man has needs, you know. Do you remember what a dating app is? It’s been so long since you used one.”
“Of course I remember, you vile gremlin.” Breathe Veronica. “I’m sure you have women lining up because you have such a winning personality.”
“Now, Princesa, that’s not nice. Remember, you reached out to this gremlin.”
I can’t fucking stand him. I try to center myself before I lose my shit and throw my phone across the room.
“Fine. I need your services. Before you say something that’s going to piss me off. Just remember, you work for my family.”
“Correction. I work for your brothers and cousins and uncles. Well…almost everyone else, but you.”
“God, you’re such a smart-ass. I don’t have the energy for this.” I’m already over this call.
He laughs. That laugh is familiar. I know I’ve heard it somewhere. But where? Miles lives, well, I don’t know where he lives. In a cave?
“Still there?” he asks, bringing me out of my thoughts.
“Yes, I’m still here.” I release a shaky breath. “Miles, this is serious.”
I hear rustling in the background. He’s probably eating at his desk. When I try to picture what Miles would look like, a garden gnome always pops into my head. Now, talking to him, it’s still there.
“Okay, tell me what’s going on.”
I need to do this. I’m giving myself a pep talk. I never imagined asking him for help, but it makes the most sense. Miles has always watched over me, and he’s seen me at my worst. As much as I hate it, this won’t be a surprise, at least not for him.
“Veronica.” I stiffen at his mention of my name. He never calls me by my name. It’s always been “spoiled brat,” “Princesa,” or other unpleasant names but never crude or vulgar ones.
I place the photograph on the counter and take a picture. “I’m going to send you something,” I say. After a brief second of hesitation, I send the message.
“Give me a second,” he tells me. I wait and wait. I check my phone to make sure the call didn’t drop.
“M-Miles?”
“When did you get this?”
“I checked my mailbox less than an hour ago. It was in an envelope.”
“Send me a picture of the envelope.” I do as he asks. “Has this been the only one you received?”
“Yes,” I lie. “Miles, you can’t tell anyone. Please.” There’s an unnerving silence.
“Veronica, this isn’t something to hide from your family. Your life may be in danger.”
“Please, Miles,” I plead. “Don’t tell them. Look into it first. Maybe it’s someone I pissed off. There’s a long list. Please.” More silence.
“Keeping this from your brothers doesn’t feel right.”
My voice is pleading. “If it’s something serious, I will personally tell them.”
“You owe me. Remember that,” he tells me. I can hear the hesitation in his voice.
“Yes, whatever you want. Just don’t say anything, and please help me find out who sent this.”
“Okay. I’ll be in touch.” The line disconnects.
I hear a ping. I look at my phone and see it’s a message from Miles with a location. I tap on the pin. It’s for Nina’s kickboxing gym.
Lapdog: Signed you up. First class is tomorrow morning.
It seems I have no choice but to go along with it. I send him a thumbs up emoji. Jokes on him—I was going to sign up regardless. The rest of the night is spent spiraling. I don’t even realize I fall asleep.
My alarm wakes me up. I contemplate throwing it across the room. People who wake up at six in the morning have to be masochists. I should have rescheduled for a later class, but I won’t. I drag myself out of bed and head to my closet. I might as well look cute.
An hour and two cups of coffee later, I’m standing outside Nina’s gym.
“Are you going to just stand here or go inside?” I scream, startled. I turn to see Annie, Nina’s wife, watching me in amusement at my indecisiveness.
“I’m actually thinking about running.” I remember when I was last here, I barely made it.
“It’s not that bad.” She opens the door and motions for me to enter.
I all but drag myself inside. It’s a full class. I look at Annie, who goes to the front desk.
“Do you work here?” I ask. I thought she had her own business.
“I help out when I’m not teaching.”
I remember Serena telling me that it was Annie who taught her all about guns. I wonder if she can give me a lesson.
I see Nina walking toward me. “Veronica, you made it! Welcome.”
I give her a hug. “I almost didn’t,” I tease. She laughs until she can barely breathe. “I’m glad I can entertain you with my fear of athleticism.”
Watching their open affection highlights a gap in my own life.
My experiences have been secret relationships and the occasional tryst, and I yearn for the kind of love they share.
It's a scary thought, though, given that the last "I love you" I heard was a tool for manipulation. That experience, where I handed over all my power, shattered me, and I'm still learning how to rebuild from it. There are times I don’t know if I’m even capable of it.
Looking around the morning class, I’m struck by the group’s diversity.
There’s a mix of genders and ethnicities, young and old.
It's a reminder that safety doesn't discriminate. Nina walks us through some stretches and introduces us to the fundamentals of kickboxing: front kicks, side kicks, uppercuts, and jabs. Then she introduces combos, and I swear I’m going to throw up.
I take a break and head to the restroom, and I actually puke. I hear the bathroom stall open.
“My guess. You didn’t eat much,” Annie tells me as I exit the bathroom stall.
“Just coffee,” I admit.
“Well, it’s an intense class, so you need more than that. Come on.” She hands me a paper towel and a mint. “Please tell me I’m not the only one this has happened to.” My face is flushed from the workout and the embarrassment.
“Not by a long shot.”
I spend the rest of the hour recovering. I check my phone and see a notification for a meeting. It’s from Cam. “Project Planning.” What an original name. The meeting is scheduled for nine in the morning, and he just sent this? I grab my things and head out, waving at Nina and Annie on my way.
I rush home. Maybe if I bump into him, we can just meet and get it out of the way. I see Will at the front door of the building.
“Hello, Will.”
“Hello, Ms. Veronica. Can I help you with anything?”
Maybe he’s seen Cam. “Actually, yes. Have you seen Mr. Cam Villanueva? You know, tall, muscular, curly dark-brown hair and gray eyes. He walks around like he’s god’s gift to the world?”
“I know exactly who you’re talking about, but no. I last saw him a couple of days ago.”
I grumble, irritated. Now I have to rush to get ready. “Thank you, Will. How’s your grandmother?’
He looks shocked at my question. Maybe because I remembered? “She’s doing well. Thank you for asking.”
I hurry to my apartment and get ready. I don’t have a lot of time, but I can’t be late. I rush to do my makeup because I never leave home without it.