Chapter 5 Thalia
There is something about a little black dress that makes me feel like the world is at my fingertips. Like hell itself would tremble before me. After my short-lived mental breakdown at the compound, I came back and took a long shower. I took time to exfoliate with my favorite pomegranate scrub, shave my legs, and even a little self-pleasure to get rid of the excess tension in my body.
I run the black lipstick over my lips, then press them together and release with a satisfying pop. Just like that, weak Thalia is gone. In her place stands the boss bitch. La Viuda. I stare at my outfit choice in satisfaction—a short black dress to match my black lips, my black nails, and my black soul.
It’s not that I hate color, it’s just that black makes sense every single day. The brightest of stars are shown on the black backdrop of the night sky. It is flattering on all body types, and I love the way it accentuates my curves. Wearing all black also makes getting dressed a lot easier for me. I could only imagine how exhausting it would be to have to figure out what color to wear each day.
When I arrive at Patricio’s estate, I walk in with my head held high. No one says anything about me showing up late to my own party. However, this time, it wasn’t my intention to show up this late. I was fighting with a six-year-old to get dressed. Lucia always wants to match me, so I had bought her a shimmery black dress, which she had refused to put on.
“I want to wear pink!” she cried. Her last-minute outfit swap was inspired by her recent obsession with everything Ariella, who she was now rushing to find.
Patricio had the entire backyard decorated for my special day. The large terrace on his patio is covered with stringed lights. The décor is simple and elegant. I am pulled in by the sounds of the mariachi playing and everyone laughing. There are several tables spread out, with my favorite taco truck set up on the grass behind them.
“Mija, Feliz Cumplea?os.” I turn at the birthday wish coming from my grandfather coming toward me from the entrance.
“Abuelo,” I say, and he pulls me into a tight hug.
“Patricio went all out again for you this year.” He nods his head, looking around. “I wish your abuela was here.” He frowns, but I smile. The memory of my abuela is one of my most cherished possessions. Knowing her and everything she taught me was one of the greatest gifts in life. Even though her absence makes my abuelo sad, I am happy to have known her.
I loop my arm through his and make my grand entrance. I make the most of the night, eating, drinking, and dancing with my friends. The music stops abruptly after a few hours, and Patricio takes the mic.
“Before we get started, I wanted to thank you all for coming out tonight to celebrate my niece, Thalia Consuelo.” Everyone has left me on the dance floor, so I make my way toward the front. I watch as a large, tiered cake is wheeled out, and Patricio fills two glasses with Dom Perignon. Servers open the bottles set out at each table and pour each guest a glass. Patricio holds up his drink, initiating his toast.
“To my niece,” he begins, and the room falls silent as he turns to face me. “Thalia, I am so proud of you. For years, I have watched you grow into the beautiful and confident woman you are today. We all love you, mija.”
“Viva La Viuda!” a drunk Ricky screams from the background, and the cheers and whistles begin. Patricio laughs before he continues.
“May this next year meet you with blessings, and may your enemies only ever meet the barrel of your gun. ?Salud!” We all drink in unison before the banda takes over playing Las Ma?anitas. I blow out my candles and wish for the same thing I wish for every year: happiness.
After that, I’m whisked away to dance, and the night continues on. When I finally get back to the table, Adrian lifts his glass to me.
“Nothing but the best for his favorite psycho niece,” Adrian teases.
I move my hand under my chin and tilt my head to the side—a move I may have learned from Lucia during her diva moments.
“Jealous?” I say, batting my eyelashes.
My brother and I have barely known each other a year, but we argue like we have been around each other our whole lives. Our fights are never rooted in hate and are nowhere near as extreme as Enrique and I’s fights. Enrique, who is now dancing with his fiancée, Gael, on the dance floor. He would come to me later drunk and pour his heart out. I would likely do the same because that’s how our stubbornness worked. We made sure to utilize the bravery of our drunkenness to remind each other how much we really did love one another. That’s how dysfunction works in my family.
To the left of Enrique is Ariella, her best friend, Genesis, and Lucia, holding hands and swaying to the music. They are all matching in pink dresses. I smile at Lucia’s rebellion, even if it was a small shot to my pride. Olivia dances with Luca, and Patricio grips tight to the love of his life.
My eyes make their way to the band playing. Or should I say to the familiar sax player, whose eyes are glued to my cleavage. He offers me a flirtatious smile. I’m not normally into musicians, but I had flirted with this one countless times at different family events.
“Who is he?” Alma asks, interrupting our eye fucking.
“César Velarde. Don’t be surprised if you hear me screaming it from behind the bushes later.”
Alma chokes on her drink, and Mireya’s cheeks flush. Adrian shakes his head at me. We spent our days surrounded by hitmen whose mouths were as filthy as mine. Those men could turn anything into a sexual innuendo, and the cartel had no human resources to complain to.
The night was still young, and I overestimated my tolerance to expensive champagne. That, mixed with various tequila shots from Osiel and Ricky, and I was plastered beyond return. One minute, I’m dancing El Caballo Dorado, and the next thing I know, the world was pitch black. My dreams take me to my favorite spot. The night of my wedding. The smell of him. For a brief moment, I can’t tell reality from the unconscious images. For a brief moment, I think I feel Silas’s touch.