Santo
“Bro,youfuckedup colossally! I brought Blondes – you brought the goddamn apocalypse, man.” I shook my head at the black-haired jerk.
“So, that’s her.” He said, not asking. Because there was no way this asshole had been friends with Ronan Zerkos for twelve years and hadn’t heard about Cecilia at least fifteen thousand times.
“That’s her.” She said, her voice smoother than honey as she brushed her hands down to smooth her dress. She made her way to the pristine white leather couch and took a seat casually, like she wasn’t a ticking time bomb.
“I don’t think you should stick around Morena. He’s not the guy you used to know.” I tilted my head at her in warning.
“No, he’s a little boy in a brick shit-house body with a chip on his shoulder.” She scoffed at me and then narrowed her eyes as she gazed between me and Kane as if examining us. “Why are you all so tall?” She asked in an irritated tone like she couldn’t believe we had grown as she walked over to the wet bar. “Do you have tequila?” I pointed with my glass to the bottle of DeLeón Añejo.
The girl had cojones, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t impressed a little.
“What’s with the whores?” She asked, casually gesturing her drink at the half naked girls in the corner and they flinched closer together in fear again. I shook my head, “That doesn’t concern you Chica, you don’t get to ask questions here. Why are you trying to leave the country?” I hoped maybe I could convince her to tell me what she wasn’t telling Zerkos. I was always better at getting her to open up and talk than he was.
She sighed and her shoulders dropped, “I need to get away from someone, that’s all I can tell you. You have to believe that I’m not hiding it to hurt him. There’s just so much in the past that if he goes digging for it, I think he would end up making some decisions that would probably end up killing him. Please, Santito” she softened as she raised her hand to reach for me but instinctively pulled back and anxiously ran her fingers through her own hair.
“I can’t promise anything.” I said, not trying to get her hopes up. Ronan was his own person, there was no part of me that actually thought I could sway his mind either way, his decision was made the minute he laid his eyes on her again.
“I thought you were the boss too?” she looked up from her drink with a mischievous look in her eyes. “Or is he still the one who runs the show?” She baited me and I heard Kane choking on his water at her suggestion and he quickly hid his amusement at her gall. I smirked but she didn’t sip her drink yet and lifted her eyebrow as she patiently waited for a response.
“We make decisions together,” Kane said as he relaxed back onto the couch spreading his arms over the back of it.
“And you are?” She asked him, though I could probably bet she already knew his name. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him know he was worth a minute in her mind though. It wasn’t like she acted like she was better than you, no– but when she was in the room you just knew that she was. Everything about the way she carried herself exuded a type of confidence that must have been fostered and nurtured since she was a little girl.
Even though Cecilia was an immigrant, and had nothing and no one left, she still presented herself as if she was royalty. Unlike me, I grew up in poverty and had to claw myself out of the depths of gang life, I had to sell my soul to the devil I promised I never would. Even now with money in my bank account and everything I could have ever hoped for at the snap of a finger, I wasn’t comfortable living this way. The Black Crows were still a gang, you could polish a turd… but it was still a turd nonetheless.
“Mateo Kane” he stuck out his hand casually, her eyebrows pulled together in the middle as she accepted the introduction.
“Italian?” She asked with a hint of curiosity in her tone, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on what wasn’t quite right, but I realized I had noticed it the minute she first spoke to me.
“Mom’s Italian,” he explained.
“Hmm. And your father?” She continued the small talk and I ping ponged between their exchanges trying to solve the mystery I couldn’t put together quite yet.
“A useless drunk.” He raised his glass in cheer, “Yours?”
“Dead.” She said flatly, with a blank look on her face.
“Oh.” His smile faded awkwardly, and silence filled the room before she cleared her throat, “It was a long time ago. You can’t dwell on who’s not here anymore, or you’ll never move forward.” She said and finally I realized what had been missing.
“Your accent is gone, Morena.” I pointed out.
“I don’t speak much Spanish these days. Haven’t in a few years,” she said and downed the rest of her tequila before she poured another double into the glass.
“But you can’t take Mexico out of the girl.” I said, raising my glass.
“This is a terrible idea.” Mateo said, pointing to the girls in the corner “Also, terrible fucking timing.” The last part came out as more of a nervous laugh, but the situation was less than funny.
At this point in the selection for the Traffic trials Zerkos would have spent the last two hours starting the process of breaking their little minds. Instead, all he has done is moan, pout and hide. I dropped to the couch and sighed a long exhale of defeat. I noticed Mateo rubbing his temples with his fingers and I realized the pressure was coming down on all of us if he was getting another headache.
“It’s almost always the neck.” She said walking over to the back of the couch that was positioned in the center of the massive penthouse living room. She handed me her glass of tequila to hold and all of a sudden, her little fingers grabbed a hold of his neck and before he could protest, she’d almost taken his head off his shoulders.
At first, I was sure she killed my friend from the terrible cracking I heard, but he immediately moaned his satisfaction following the horrendous sound of all the bones settling into place.
“Shit.” he breathed. “That feels so much better,” he said in a marveled expression that had him looking at her like she was a brand-new toy. He brushed his dark hair away from his dark brown eyes and grinned at her in gratitude. She shrugged her shoulders and relieved me from holding her glass as she continued to sip her drink standing.
“He won’t help you unless you start telling him something. He’s too hung up on the lack of answers you left him with” I said to her frankly.
“And what about you?” She asked me, and dammit if I was just as willing to do her bidding as I was twelve years ago.
I sighed, ”Chica, there’s nothing I can do if he’s not willing. Zerkos saved my life too many times for me to disregard his feelings right now.”
“His feelings?” She practically yelled. “Doesn’t seem like he’s hurting anymore.” She scoffed and took a swig of her drink.
“You did a number on him when you left,” I explained.
“And guess who had to clean up your mess?” Kane chimed in, his sharp jaw creating a hard line as he clenched his teeth at the thought.
“I did what I had to, in order to keep the two of you breathing a little longer. I won’t say more than that, and I sure as shit am not here to apologize.” She said with that fire inside of her I knew so well coming back to life.
“Maybe he just needs to take his pound of flesh and you can call it even.” Kane threatened without so much as looking at her.
“Ha, I have nothing to lose anymore. He can try.”
“Pushing The Tides” by Mastodon stopped blaring from Zerkos’ room and Kane and I simultaneously looked at each other nervously. Whatever was about to happen next was not going to be good, not for her at least.