American Bad Blood: City of the Dead

Absolution

I can't continue to love you in silence.

Well, this silence had a lot of static noise.

Static noise that was now blaring in my head, making the walls of my cabeza hurt with immense pain. I finally saw what Life himself can offer me but to what extent?

So that's it? I'm being punished for loving you?

No, my darling, you are being cursed. Cursed to love and never fear Death for the rest of your existence, just like now I'm cursed to live with this horrible secret for the rest of mine. Our kisses will remain with only you and I. No one else. May God have mercy on us both.

"Talofa, lalolagi ia Muerte."

I blink profusely forcing myself to click back into reality. I must've zoned out again-staring straight into the finest details of the disco balls chandelier of The Graveyard, I lost myself in my thoughts.

"Ei, TeTe." Oti whistles to get my attention again. I blink again as I turn to look back at my husband, who was flipping through his records to pick out an artist to play for the night. Dressed casual tonight, Oti's black deep V collar shirt is iron pressed against his body, showing off his Samoan tribal tattoo sleeve, his signature skull head dog collar chain necklace hanging around his neck, paired with ripped knee black faded jeans and suede silver rivets motorcycle boots.

"Did you hear what I said?" Oti asks me, making sure I was paying attention to his words. Honestly, ni siquiera recuerdo what he was even talking about.

I fumble to find an answer. "I-um...no, Mi Rey. I was out of it, my love. Forgive me."

The faint thumping from "Like a G6" by Far East Movement vibrates down on the dance floor, the ambiance making it through the sound proof walls of the office. Oti looks back at me with deep concern, as he should. It's been-awkward -between us ever since that night during Senorita Perfecta and Senor Perfecto's vacation in the woods.

I wonder why.

I scowl mentally at Celena, hissing in discontent. Not. Another. WORD. Her voice is dripping with extreme sarcasm, the tone of her voice pissing the shit out of me.

"Muerte, is everything okay? You've been acting...strange...lately." Oti questions as he starts walking over to me. I'm standing by his desk, getting ready to meet Mystery Man for our dinner date at The Double Eagle Steakhouse. While waiting for Cerberus to show up, I was putting on my lipstick when I spaced out...again.

"Todo bien, Mi Rey." I lie, hoping Oti will take my fib of a joke. He doesn't-Oti is a smart man.

"No you're not. Muerte, I woke up, well, Giovanni woke up to you crying in his arms. Ever since we've left the cabin, you've been keeping to yourself." Oti stops to think, then sighs deeply, closing his eyes as he rubs his forehead, his matching slate gray skull ring illuminating with the dim lighting of the office. "This is about Viola, isn't it?"

"No, of course not." I say, reaching into my coffin shaped diamond clutch to put my crystal embellished skull compact mirror away. "I'm content with Hamilton's death."

"Then what is it, Muerte?" Oti gestures towards him by putting both hands on his chest, giving me a doubtful look filled with more worry, "Did I do something wrong?"

I close my clutch, then walked towards him, running a hand along his chest. "No, no, you didn't. Why would you think that?"

Oti rests his hands on either side of his body, shrugging-almost like he was accepting defeat. "I don't know...Wayne was on that trip too. I don't know if he did anything to make you like this."