Queen of Nothing

Cecilia

12 years later

“TheOrtizfamilyruled all of Mexico as one single Cártel until Arnácio Ortiz died at the ripe age of thirty-nine, leaving his wife and four-year-old son Augustín. Tradition declared the eldest would take place as Jefe after spending their lives being counseled for the position by their Papá.”

I looked up from my paper nervously, but Papá looked back at me with pride gleaming in his eyes and encouraged me to keep going. “Well, it would have been an outrage to allow a four-year-old to sit in the position of Cártel Boss. Hungry for power, the four top influential families that worked for Arnácio took this opportunity to rise in power. They decided to split the Cártel into a delegation of three to keep balance and equality, The Flóres family - that was your Abuelo,“I recited to Papá, “The Ramirez, and the Chávez family. What no one really knew was that his Mamá, was doing way more heavy lifting in the Cártel than Señor Ortiz let his lackeys believe.”

My Mamá interrupted to chime in, “Behind every good hombre,” she sang and my Papá smiled affectionately at her.

“Well, she spent the next twenty years teaching him everything there was to know about being a Jefe. When Augustin “comes of age” I exaggerated with big finger quotes. “He climbs his way up the ranks till he’s earned all of the grunts’ loyalty. One day he shows up guns blazing with the whole backing of the Cártel behind him and he says, “I’m here to take what’s mine!” but nobody wanted to die. Instead, they all agreed to add a fourth seat to the Cártel since Augustín proved his mettle to them, and in the end, everyone knew blood rights held the most power.” Ten-year-old me finished reading off of the paper I had stayed up the entire previous night writing.

When Mamá announced Papá was coming home for a surprise visit, I immediately hopped on the computer and began asking my Mamá for as much information on our family history that she could provide.

My Papá chuckled and signaled for me to come to his lap, I eagerly ran his way and he swooped me into his arms. “It was a little more complicated than that, quite a few people died. But I think you captured the essence of our history well Mija. That was very good.” Papá planted a kiss on my forehead, and I swelled with pride. “And who sits in the Ortiz seat now?” My Papá asked inquisitively though I knew he knew the answer himself.

“You do!” I giggled. Papá came in guns blazing too and said “I came to take what’s mine too! Now the Flóres family owns half of the Cártel.” My Papá made eyes with my Mamá and let out a throaty laugh before saying, “Yes Mija. Nothing in this life is given to us, if you want power you have to take it.”

The memory was so clear I could still smell the scent of cigar on his suit jacket and touch the smooth expensive fabric between my fingers. I could feel the roughness of his thick mustache against my face when he cradled me for a hug or a kiss if I focused hard enough. I could hear his strong accent and his deep voice soothing all of my worries away like he always did.

That was the last summer I would spend as an innocent child before my Papá would begin to mold me in his image. I sighed away my grief as I rolled out of bed dreading the day. I didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on old memories anymore, I had surviving to do. I checked-out of the small but overpriced Air BnB studio apartment I stayed in the night before when I got into Cove City. I twirled my mother’s necklace between my fingers as I fished through my dress pocket for the address I had folded up inside. I hailed a Lyft and gave the driver the location before popping my Air pods in my ears and tuning out to the sound of Ryan Adams - “Come Pick Me Up” and letting the harmonica melody break my soul in half.

I didn’t know what I was thinking, but I had completely run out of options. I never stayed anywhere long enough to make friends, let alone trust anyone enough to count on them for help. Five times in the last ten years Ignácio had gotten too close to my trail and almost killed me. Every time I’d escape by the skin of my teeth due to some dumb luck coincidence.

There was the time I picked up an extra shift at work and my mailman Fred ended up triggering a detonator meant for me. Poor fucking Fred, he was a dick who never knocked hard enough to hear and always made me pick up my packages at the Post Office, but he didn’t deserve to die for me. Then there was the time I almost got stolen out of my own car in a McDonald’s drive-thru line in Texas, but I had my gun on me and no one batted an eye when I shot Ignácio’s men in cold blood in the parking lot mid kidnapping.

Half the time I avoided getting close to people in fear that I’d end up finding them dead on a random Tuesday. The last attempt, I was working as a teacher’s aide at an elementary school in Philadelphia. He set the entire school on fire, killing twelve kids and three teachers. I stayed home with a fever that day. A few years back Ignácio and Carlito killed the last two Jefe’s remaining in the Cártel along with their offspring, making him the only leader of the entire Mexican Cártel, and my ugly primo Carlito, his sole heir.

I left to keep him safe, but now I was running to his doorstep to beg him for his protection. It was a cruel twist of fate, and I must have completely lost my mind to think Ronan Zerkos was going to do anything other than try to put me in my grave when he saw me again. They called him Berserk now, according to some bar talk I snooped in on last night when I got into the city. He was one of the leaders of the Black Crow Brotherhood, one of the most powerful and violent gangs in Cove City. Along with two others, Santo Álvarez and Mateo Kane; together they had dominion over all of Cove City.Cove City was bigger than you could imagine, full of high-rise buildings, casinos, and strip clubs.

There were no suburbs here.

Everything was dripping in sin, and the city definitely didn’t sleep. I’d been in a lot of different places over the last twelve years, but nowhere was quite like this city. Full of lights, and the promise of danger in every corner.