BAD BOY, CARYS
- I'm dedicating this chapter to authoressperfekt. I love reading your comments! Your reactions make me laugh 😂 Thank you for the "anti-hero" idea. -
I felt someone melting holes into my head. I grew hot. It wasn't a bad feeling. It felt good. To be watched. I had a feeling I knew who it was, so I searched. My eyes meet his. He raises his glass. I smirk. This was about to get so much more exciting.
"You look radiant in white."
Heat creeps from my throat to my cheeks. I dip my head before smiling and looking back at him.
"Thank you," I reply and regain my confidence. "You look sexy in black."
He grins. I swoon internally.
"Would you like something to drink?"
I look at him skeptically. "You're letting me have liquor?"
He scoffs. "No. I'll lose my liquor license. You'll have a Shirley Temple."
I roll my eyes. Of course, I am. I see him smile and shake his head.
"Actually... I'd prefer a Mango Tango," I say. "Virgin, of course."
He orders me the drink and bourbon for himself. He hesitantly hands me the Mango Tango. I take a sip. God. He looks great. This drink is great too.
"Would you like to dance?" He extends his hand toward me.
"I would love to."
I take his hand and he leads me onto the dance floor. His hands land on his hips. I step closer to him, sliding my arms up and around his neck. His eyes flash with amusement. I lean my head against his shoulder blade, closing my eyes. I take in the music as we move. The song changes into something more romantic, in a remix. For whatever reason, my eye catches on someone. I take a better look when we move around again.
Oh. I smile. Bad idea alert. I tilt my face up and look at Matthew.
"Will you kiss me?"
"Whatever you want, baby," Matthew says.
He never hesitates. His lips descend on mine. He pulls my body closer to him. I hold on to him, curling my fingers into his dress shirt. I kiss him back with the same amount of passion he's given me. He kisses me harder. I feel the butterflies flutter in my belly. Holy fuck. We pull apart. I feel like I'm on cloud nine.
"Wow." I release the word in a breath.
"Ditto," he replies.
I look at where I saw her. She's nowhere to be found. Had she seen us? I hope so. Matthew and I continue to dance. Our hands explore each other on top of our clothes. We're now close enough to the VIP area that I can see Yaretzi is sitting alone. I try looking for Alba in the lounge; she's nowhere to be found. The man she was with had now moved on to the next woman. I pull from Matthew.
"What's wrong?" I hear him ask.
"I can't see Alba anymore," I reply.
"What? What do you mean?" I hear the worry about his friend in his voice. I would know; she's my friend too.
"Yaretzi is alone," I say. "She was dancing with a man who's now dancing with another."
Had she done what she had wanted already? Without telling me? For the past four years, she had been trying to get close to the people who took her husband. They frequented the club, looking for women. She wanted to get information about what happened to Cain.
"Perhaps she went home?" He says in a question. He knew about Alba's plan. Yaretzi wouldn't be here if she had. I look at him, staying quiet.
"She didn't go home," he answers himself.
"I don't think so," I say.
We pull away from each other. Matthew takes my hand in his as he leads us to the lounge. We sit down with Yaretzi. She smiles at us.
"Where's Alba?" I ask first.
Yaretzi's smile falls. "I thought she was with you."
"No. She went off dancing with some guy. He's not with her," I say. "I didn't see her on the dance floor."
"Are they here tonight?" She asks, referring to the people Alba has been researching.
"No," Matthew replies. "At least, I hope not."
"Perhaps she went to the restroom. I'll check." Yaretzi stands from her sitting spot. She makes a beeline toward the women's bathroom. Matthew and I stay behind in the lounge. She comes back a few minutes later.
"She's not in there. She's not here," she says. I close my eyes in disappointment.
"I have to go," she says. I nod.
"Please be safe," Matthew says.
"I will." Yaretzi takes her purse and leaves.
After she leaves, Matthew leads me into a conference where we are met by the security on the premises who could leave their positions around the club. He tells them our friend is missing. They set themselves to work. I yawn. Matthew gathers me in his arms and carries me to the couch along the way. He sits with me in his arms. I rest my head on his shoulder. I close my eyes as his hand pets its way through my hair. This feels nice. I could stay in his arms forever.
Later, gentle shaking wakes me up. My eyes flutter open. Matthew is crouching before me.
"Hey," I whisper.
"Hey. It's late. I'll take you home," he says.
"It's okay. I can drive twenty minutes on my own." He nods. "Did they find her?"
I sit up and stand to gather my items.
"No," he says. "She wasn't here."
But once I was home, sleep didn't come easy. I spent it tossing and turning. I tried calling Alba but to no avail. All my calls went to voicemail. Now, in the morning, Yaretzi lets me know through a text message that she's had no luck in contacting her. My father and Marcos are already eating breakfast when I arrive at our dining table.
"Good morning, honey," Dad greets me.
"Good morning, dad." Adrian. "Good morning, Coco."
Marcos rolls his eyes. "Good morning, loser."
"Sé amable con tu hermana," my father scolds him.
"Yes, Coco, be nice," I smirk. Marcos flips me off, obstructing it from Dad's view.
We finished eating breakfast. Marcos excuses himself to go to football practice. Once Marcos is out of hearing range, my father says, "Don't go into the Dollhouse for the next few days. I'm doing some construction work."
I look at him expectantly. "Construction work usually means you're building another room or making a new box."
"Es verdad," he says. I'm about to question him further when I hear the commotion coming from the living room area.
What the heck is that?
Emily, my stepmother, and her daughter, Sarah, stumble into the dining room.
"Surprise!" Sarah yells out. She rushes over to my side and gives me a hug.
"Hey, you guys are here early. I thought you were coming back next week?" Dad says.
"We wanted to come back to send Día de los Muertos with you guys," Emily says. "We know it's a special occasion for Genesis and Marcos."
She gives my shoulder a squeeze. I smile gratefully at her. Every year, since she married Dad - and before when she was our nanny - she would help me decorate for the Day of the Dead in honor of my mother and sister. I was always grateful for that. Once Sarah was old enough, she helped with the decorations and baked the specialties. I could not wait for this year's celebrations.
***
The scent of Pan de Muertos and champurrado fills the house areas closest to the kitchen. I take a bit of my Calavera de azúcar and moan in delight. Yes, these are perfect. Vanessa, our personal chef, has been baking all the Día de los Muertos specialties. She was exceptional. Emily was in the kitchen helping as well. Since I was a young girl, I helped them decorate the sugar cookies. I've gotten better at icing. I could probably open my bakery if I ever wanted to. Sarah made the flan and the horchata. All that was left to make was the shrine where we'd place photos of our dead loved ones and offer them food to satisfy their souls. My mother and sister would be on it, along with Emily's parents.
I'll have to get it from the basement.
If I go, I'll be tempted to walk through the door leading to the Dollhouse. What if I can send someone who doesn't know about the secret door? I look at sweet, naïve Sarah. She doesn't know about it.
"Sarah, would you bring the shrine up? I'll help Vanessa finish the baking preparations." I smile at her.
She grins back. "Sure."
"Thank you, baby," I reply as she walks off.
Just then Marcos walks in. He looks after Sarah and then looks at me with a raised eyebrow, knowing what I just did. I shrug.
"Adrian told me to not go to the basement, so I'm avoiding it by sending Sarah to get the shrine," I mumble close to him so Emily won't hear.
"Aren't you afraid that one day she'll find it?" Marcos asks.
"Ella no lo encontrará. The shelf with mom's and Valentina's stuff is in the way," I say.
"You never know," Marcos sing-songs as he walks away.
Son of a—, my thoughts are interrupted as Emily calls me over for the next batch. I turn around and walk back to the frosting station. I'm met with some more sugar skulls. When I'm frosting the last one of twenty skulls, Sarah comes in. With nothing.
"I didn't find it," she says. "I looked everywhere."
Damn it! I sigh.
"Okay, I'll look. Will you finish this cookie, please?"
"Yes," she smiles.
I remove my apron and leave it on the counter as I walk out of the kitchen. I make my way down the hallway towards the basement door. It's dark inside. I flip the light switch and walk down the stairs. The quietness is eerie. I search through it all, looking for the damn shrine. Nothing. It's not here. I look at the shelf. Had he taken it inside? I debate whether I should go inside.
The story of my life.
Pulling on the shelf, it opens, revealing the entryway behind it. I close it behind me as I've done every time. I do not know where to look from here. The plastic curtain at the end catches my attention. I feel the electric pull to walk towards it. I do, passing several doors down the hall. Behind the curtain are stairs leading to the second level down. Orange cones frame the entrance of the stairs. I walk past them, going down. Walking past several other doors looking for the shrine, I come across a new door. It looks brand new and just molded in place. I turn the knob. Candles provide light inside on the floor and on tables. On one wall I see the stupid shrine with candles and food. On a corner is a red loveseat with armrests, a doll sitting on it. She wears an elaborate traditional Mexican dress in black. Her makeup is the typical Day of the Dead skeleton makeup. She wears a big, red flower crown on her curled hair.
I take in the room and realize what I'm looking at. The walls are covered with photographs. Alba, Cain, Yaretzi, Matthew, and I are featured in those photos. Many of them are recent. There are photos of Alba, Yaretzi, Matthew, and me from lady's night a few days ago. There're many photos of Alba on her own. Cain from before he disappeared. With Naomi, their daughter. I look at the shrine again.
Oh, no...
The main photo is of Alba and the other is of Cain. The more I look at the photos on the shrine and the photos on the wall, a pit of emptiness and dread fills my stomach. Cain is presumed dead. Alba is not. If her photo is the main one on this shrine, it only means one thing. I look back at the doll. I take in her face, her hair, everything about her. If I had only looked for a second. I would have never known.
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.
If Vicente Villalobos doesn't kill my father, I will. All I can think is he knows. He has felt me drift away. There's a conflicting turmoil of emotions within me. He's using her to get me back on his side. Then I feel his presence before I see and hear him. My eyes burn and I blink away the tears.
"No te había dicho que no te quería aquí?"
"Yes, Dad," I replied.
"Then why are you here?"
"I was looking for the shrine. If Villalobos finds out that Alba is here, he will kill you," I say.
"She's poisoned your mind. No necesito a una niñata contra mi," he says.
"Papá, nunca te he defraudado. I don't want her here." I look at him, begging with my eyes.
"Send her to The Warehouse," I blurted out. My father raises his eyebrow in question.
"Villalobos will never know his daughter is there," I continue. "Sure, he owns it but he never goes there anymore. He has him in charge. He will know what to do with her."
My father nods. "I like that idea. You'll prepare her later after mass. Now, take your shrine upstairs."
I remove everything he has set up, placing it on the floor. To make it easier to carry, I dismantled the table. I take one last look at Alba before walking past my father. I'll have to call Yaretzi. It would be a reasonable thing to do, right?