As Kate and I walk to my parents' porch, I'm reminded of the hours I spent playing in the front yard with Tyler and her. Various toys used to be scattered all over the lawn, but those times are long gone. In the backyard, there's a small pool where we spent entire summers, living off barbecues and lemonades.
I use the dragon door knocker my dad installed against my mom's will three years ago. It's always strange to be a guest in what feels like my own house. Some activity happens inside, and soon enough, the door opens wide, revealing my mom's familiar silhouette.
Isabella Walker, born Hernández, isn't precisely a coquettish woman, but she takes care of herself, trying not to let the time passing become too obvious. She's slightly plump, despite minding what she eats and race-walking with her friends three times a week. She dyes her hair to hide the growing number of white strands in it, and sometimes, like now, when her roots are too visible but she doesn't have time to take care of it, she wears a headband to maintain the illusion.
As unfeminist as it may sound, she was put on this earth to care for kids, always warm, compassionate, and sensible. That's why she's so good at teaching, and it explains why at the end of every year, her students pitch in to offer her a thank-you gift. She can be strict, but I couldn't have asked for a better mother.
And I'm a terrible daughter for not coming back sooner.
But she doesn't mind, engulfing us both in a tight and motherly hug.
"I'm so happy you're here, my girls," she says, kissing each of us. The affectionate reunion lingers for a few seconds, and she eventually releases us before inviting us inside.
We follow her to the dining room, where Tyler and dad are just finished setting the table.
Thanks to our video calls, I know Tyler has been growing a scruff, almost a beard, by now, so the sight doesn't shock me too much. Still, it's odd to see him with so much facial hair. He's tall, has our father's green eyes, and our mother's brown carnation. But we share the curly dark hair, straight nose, and generous lips. People often tell us that we look a lot like each other. It was a terrible insult during childhood, but now, we're both glad whenever someone points it out. It's hard to be objective since his ugly mug has graced my life from the very beginning, but it's my understanding that he's a handsome devil. Add to this the fact that he's an artist with a hearing impairment, and you have an irresistible combination for women. All he has to do is snap his fingers for ten of them to rush to fulfill his every need. Somehow, people expect him to be sweet, loving, and caring. But it doesn't work like that. Ty was destined to be a man-whore, deaf artist or not.
My father lets Ty continue and comes to me.
"Hi, peanut," he greets me, giving me a tight hug and a quick kiss on top of my head.
"Hi, Dad."
As Kate gets the same treatment, I lovingly look at my dad.
Michael Walker is tall and—to my mother's great envy—lean without even trying. For as long as I can remember, my dad wore the same model of rimless glasses and variations of the same blueish short-sleeved button-ups and beige pants. While his fast metabolism might help him age well, his receding hairline isn't. For years, my mom has been trying to get him to buzz cut it all, insisting he would look like Bruce Willis, but he hangs on to what he has left with tenacity. Tyler and I don't want to get involved in this debate because we both know there's no way he'd ever look like the Die Hard actor.
I let my dad and Kate discuss, moving on with the salutations. Tyler and I fist-bump as I pass by him, and then I follow the delicious smells to the kitchen.
The delicious-looking food surrounding my abuela almost makes me drool. She went overboard and prepared way too much. I'm not complaining, though. There are corn cobs, Pozole, homemade tortillas, fried rice, sauteed veggies, and I can see some meat roasting in the oven.
"¡Hola, MC! ¿Cómo estás?" I ask her, using the street name Tyler and I teasingly picked for her. It was initially a joke, but it stuck around.
Maria Carmen Hernández was busy her entire life, working hard to raise three children while still earning a salary as a maid in a luxurious hotel. She remained active since retiring, and one could never guess she's seventy-six. To her great pride, she can still do pretty much everything with impressive efficiency. Her quick wits also remain untouched by the years, and her repartee is legendary. I don't look much like my mother or father, but from what I heard and the old, damaged pictures I saw, I'm MC's spitting image. I certainly inherited her short height since both my parents are taller than average.
She barely pays me any attention, busy tasting the stew before her. "Estoy bien. Hand me the salt, mija," she asks, without even turning toward me. Knowing how she gets when she cooks, I smile and obey swiftly.
When I reach her, she takes the salt from my hands and extends her cheek for me to kiss it. Once more, I comply, enjoying the familiar scent of her face moisturizer, and offer my cheek in return. She gives me a peck and returns to her cooking.
"Do you need any help?" I propose in Spanish.
"No, I'm almost done. Go make sure the boys set the table correctly, and you can tell everyone we're eating in five minutes."
When I'm back in the dining room, Tyler, mom, and Kate are talking while dad sets the wine glasses on the table, as well as two beer ones for him and me.
Dinner unfolds nicely. It's delightful to be here, surrounded by my loved ones. The food is fantastic, and it's great to catch up with them all. But I can't help my mind to regularly drift to another loved one, spending his evening alone instead of with me, as intended.
Fuck! I was supposed to text him when I arrived! I take my phone out swiftly and open my messages quickly.
Sorry, I forgot to text you! I send.
Right after, typing bubbles appear. It's alright. I figured you were busy and didn't want to bother you.
You could never bother me.
For the duration of the dinner, my mind is divided between the conversation I'm having on my phone with Lex and the one with my family. Although I love my folks, I'm much more interested in whatever Lex texts me.
The suspense has been killing me. I think I might keep watching the movie without you, he sends at some point.
Don't you dare. This is our first movie together, you can't do that.
Fine. You forgot your hard drive, by the way. I ended up looking at the movies you have in there. Don't you know piracy is a crime, Walker? Would you steal a car?
I chuckle at the old commercial reference and type my answer. I would if I could. And a handbag too. And what's the other thing?
A television.
Yeah, I'd steal that too.
You insubordinate woman. I'm going to have to discipline you, don't I? The temperature goes up at once as a delicious warmth spreads through my body. Images of Lex sexually chastising me flood my mind. Holy shit, I might actually go out there and steal a car just to make sure he inflicts whatever punishment he comes up with.
How would you do it?
There's a moment of nothing before the bubbles on his side appear again. Jesus Christ, I love when he takes charge. I'm not submissive in any other aspects of my life, but during sex, I turn into an absolute simp for him.
"Andy, have you been working out?" my mom asks from the other side of the table.
I'm abruptly reminded of my surroundings, and my cheeks burn with shame. Dammit. My eyes fly to Kate's, who's biting back a smile.
"Oh, yes, she works out," she answers for me. "She found the best possible coach in Seattle. She's very devoted to working out now. You exercise what, at least three times a week now? Or is it three times a ni—"
Her attempt at exposing my illicit affair is cut short when I slam my hand on the table.
"Yes! I've been working out with Tamika a little. She's a lot into pilates. I swear, she's one good action away from becoming my main girl," I pretend, squinting my eyes at Kate. She doesn't take my threat seriously and holds back a grin.
When the topic changes and Kate isn't at risk of exposing my sex life to my entire family, I pick up my phone to see if Lex answered.
He did.
And holy fuck.
I need to win a bet first because you'll have to be tied up for this one. Then, I think I'll work on a question I've had for a while now: how many times can I make you come with my tongue in the span of an hour? By the time I'm done answering it, you'll already be begging for mercy, spent, and feeling like you can't take more. But you're being taught a lesson, so I say when we're done. I'll fuck you hard, pushing you further than what you think is possible. I'll make you come repeatedly until you are so raw you feel like your heart has relocated between your legs. It will only stop when I know you have actually reached your limit, and I'll come with you, filling your tight, overworked cunt with my cum.
Holy mother of God...
That's so ridiculously hot, I'm forced to squeeze my legs together, my clit palpitating at the naughty promises. Under my very proper clothes, I grow impossibly wet as my mind conjures images of what he described. Shit, the fantasy is so intense that I can almost feel Lex powerfully thrusting into my willing flesh. Goddamnit, Stefano will get so much shit—not just for what he did to Kate, but for keeping me away from Lex like this.
Lex, my abuela is two chairs from me! I type, holding back a conflicted chuckle.
Sorry, was it too much?
No, but how dare you make me this wet when I'm having family dinner?!
Well, have a glass of water to stay hydrated.
I giggle, which attracts my mom's interest. I hide my phone better as I type, Screw the bet, baby. You can tie me up whenever you want.
As much as I like it, it's not helping my massive hard-on.
I'm afraid you'll have to handle this one alone. Think of me while you do it?
Always.
Deciding it's enough slex talk over family dinner, I wish him good night and settle my phone face down, ready to keep my attention focused on the people around me.
About twenty minutes later, my mom and I are in the kitchen, finishing the dishes while the others are in the living room.
"So, who is he?" she asks out of the blue.
"What? Who?"
"That boy you're seeing."
"I'm—I'm not—"
"Oh, please. You've been blushing and giggling at your phone all evening long. I see teenagers do this every day. I know what it means."
Shit, busted...
"Uh...his name is Lex. Alexander. And he isn't a 'boy.'"
"Don't get sassy on me. For how long have you been seeing him?"
"Almost a month."
"It's a good start. Is he husband material?"
I laugh, both shocked and amused by her boldness. "Mom, slow down. I'm still trying to figure out if he's boyfriend material."
"Hmm... Is he handsome? Will my grandkids be gorgeous?"
"¡Por Dios, mamá!" I protest.
"Alright, alright. I'll stop."
The silence stretches, with only the sounds of the dishes distracting us. She probably has dozens of questions, but she holds back. "Could you not tell dad?" I ask, not wanting it to spread too fast. She nods, handing me a pan to dry.
Once we're done, I head upstairs to my room and fish my phone out of my pocket. There's only one person I know who has the potential to help Kate, and I hope he'll be able to do it.
"What's up, Dora?" Oli says when he picks up.
"Hi, Mr. Garden. I have a favor to ask. It's a bit tricky, so I'm just gonna go ahead and do it."
"Yeah, sure. I hope everything's fine," he says with slight worry.
"For me, yes. It's about Kate."
"What's going on?"
"Well, her ex is a fucking prick, is what's going on. He's got footage of her he's taken without her consent, and he's now threatening to leak it unless she gets back with him."
"Ouch, okay. That's some fucked up shit."
"Yeah, I know. And I'm so worried he'll actually do it, Oli," I explain, sitting on my bed and grabbing my plush armadillo to hug it tightly.
"Do you want me to... take care of it?"
"You think you could get everything?"
"Yeah, that's what I do—among other things. Kate wouldn't be the first one I'm helping like this. I've done it dozens of times."
"Are you saying you're some sort of cyber knight in shining armor?"
He chuckles at the idea, and his assurance when he speaks again comforts me. "I guess you could say that, yes. It started with my sister when some asshole began harassing her on Instagram. I found him and scared the shit out of him. I made this super creepy threat video and essentially ruined the guy's computer by unleashing an army of viruses on it."
"Wow, that sounds extreme."
"Yeah, well, I wasn't letting anyone make death threats to my baby sister. Anyhow, I'm known in the hacking community as the savior of ladies. Especially since I stopped doing anything else a while back."
I hesitate for the longest time, refusing to let him put himself in danger. But clearly, this wouldn't be his first rodeo.
"You're pretty good at this hacking thing, aren't you?" I ask.
"Let's say I'm not too shabby. But I swear, Dora, I can help you without breaking a sweat."
"If you do this, I'll owe you a huge one," I say, rolling onto my stomach.
"Nah, you really won't. You're actually giving me something to occupy the boring Sunday incoming." His insane kindness has me laughing with relief. God, this man is truly a gem, and whichever girl snatches him will be very lucky.
Knocks on my door make us cut the call, and Ty's tall frame enters my room. "Hi, dickhead," I sign.
"Sup' ass wipe?"
I bite the inside of my cheek, holding back my amusement. Old habits die hard. We didn't get along so well as kids, like most siblings, really. He was the big one, but I could be cruel, too. Like when I would close my eyes during an argument to rob him of his ability to communicate. I stopped doing that as soon as I realized how fucked up and unfair it was.
His charisma has been there for a while, and many of my girlfriends during our teenage years were infatuated with him. And sometimes, he indulged in their interest, only to crush their heart later on. The process usually left me with one less friend. So, after multiple debacles like this, we agreed I had the right to call dibs on certain girls, and he couldn't, under any circumstances, get into their panties. Kate was the very first one I claimed, even though there wasn't any risk there. Ty always considered her a childish little sister as much as he does me.
Since I'm sprawled on the bed on my stomach, he pretends to sit on me, adding enough pressure to make me groan in protest. He moves up when I wriggle, allowing me to switch positions. As I'm bringing myself up, he harshly whacks the outer side of my left ass cheek.
"Ah, you dick!" I shout.
Swiftly turning around, I kick his side to shove him away in retaliation and send a soothing hand there to appease the burn from the violent blow. Damn, the whole side of my ass stings with pain.
"Be faster next time. Even abuela is in better shape than you," he signs as he sits down.
"What do you want?" I sign back.
"Is Kate okay?"
"I'm working on it."
"Do you need help?"
I vaguely explain what's happening to Kate, keeping out the part about the sex tape since she doesn't want others to know. He's glad to hear I have a plan for it already but still offers to beat the shit out of that Italian prick. As tempting as his offer is, I'm confident that Oli can pull it off.
Stefano isn't getting out of this.