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THIRTEEN; 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂-𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒊𝒏'!
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"MISSING HOMELESS PEOPLE. In New York." Bobby set his phone back in his pocket and reached for his glass of rum. "It's getting pretty morbid out there."
An uninterested Cami folded her arms over the bar, too bored to show off her newly sculpted Pilates body to the crowd. They were all wasted anyway. "Despierta, cariño. How is that our problem?" (Get real, babe.)
"Don't be selfish. They are still citizens of our country."
"This isn't my country."
His expression turned bitter. "Qué te pasa, Cami?" (What's wrong with you, Cami?)
Cami rolled her eyes, unimpressed. "Ay guao, Roberto, no puedo creer que esta es tu vida. You don't have what it takes to—" (Oh come on, Roberto, I can't believe this is your life.)
"Y qué cojones esperabas?" (And what the fuck did you expect?)
"En serio? See, this is why you can't ever lead DaCosta International. Part of the reason why your family and I are doing all this is that you didn't have the balls to do what it takes and earn your crust. All you have to do is say yes and reform a whole generation of—" (Seriously?)
"Callate, Cami, por favor!" he hissed. (Shut up, Cami, please!)
If it weren't a public scene, Bobby would've raised his voice. Or even his hand. And judging by the black whip of fury in his eyes and the driblet of smoke from his wrists, he wasn't handling it well.
His voice was low and dangerous when he continued. "You may as well walk behind me with a loudspeaker. And they aren't nobodies; they're real people fighting for their real lives. Just like us."
"Lo que sea. It's time someone cleans up these disgusting streets, even if a curveball is a way to hit at it." She rested a finger under his chin—pretending as if what she said hadn't mattered—and pressed a long kiss over his lips. (Whatever.)
"Basta y ten pelotas, amor," Cami whispered before she sashayed her way out of there. Her eyes trailed across the room, scouring the party impassively, giving up, typing on her phone and heading into a private room. (Stop this and grow some balls, love.)
And all the while, Peter eavesdropped, eyes wide and in disbelief. He couldn't comprehend the gilded hammer of shock that had struck him as he listened to the far-famed couple's discussion, managing to unravel the few loose threads of knowledge in it. It was way too much Spanish, a bit off with the Caribbean accent, so Peter was blinkered from the real gist. But here's what he got.
