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“Have a nice stay, Jimena,” Miranda whispers and then speaks up louder for everyone to hear, “Miss Cortez is ready now.”
“You too, and keep me posted on the drama.” I wink at her, and she laughs, already adjusting my seat and plumping the pillow after me as I go to the exit. I nod at the various crew members who are always present on board whenever I fly.
From a medical slash security guard to two pilots and two flight attendants who, according to my father, are needed to keep an eye on his princess so nothing ever happens to me.
Most of the time, his rules and overprotection are psychotic and annoy me because it paints me in such a bad light in front of everyone. Who needs all these people catering to one person on a flight?
Miranda and a pilot would have been enough, but I can never say anything.
For the pain and devastating loss my family experienced all these years ago shaped them into control freaks who need to pour all their love into their children and sometimes suffocate them to death with it.
And as a child who had to endure their grief, I always keep my true emotions locked away deep in my soul because seeing them would kill my parents.
“Get a grip, Jimena,” I order myself, putting on my sunglasses because my expressive blue eyes would scream about my discomfort, and we can’t have that.
Part of growing up with the staff means they tattletale on you to your parents, no matter your age. I might be almost twenty, but they won’t listen to me for shit and will instead report to my parents.
The last thing I need is their interrogation followed by a lecture and reassurances that mean nothing anyway.
“Thank you all, and have a nice day,” I say to the crew and step on the stairs as the frigid wind whooshes over me, coldness enveloping me while my white summer dress skirts over my legs accompanied by thunder shaking the sky announcing the upcoming storm. “Just great.” One of the reasons I rushed home today instead of tomorrow like I originally planned. I couldn’t risk anyone’s life or missing my parents’ thirtieth anniversary.
That for whatever reason they've decided to celebrate a year later, so technically it's their thirty-first one.
A sigh slips past my lips because compared to most of my family, I hate rain and despise coldness with a passion, preferring summer, which once again makes me the odd one out.
I start descending the stairs, where the black car is already waiting for me. Our driver, George, gets out and runs around the vehicle, wearing his standard gray uniform while adjusting his chauffeur hat with one hand and holding an open umbrella in another. “Miss Cortez. Welcome back home!” He looks up and shakes his head when the light drizzle starts that will turn into a pouring rain shortly judging by the lightning flashing and dark clouds gathering together. “Just on time!” He grins, the wrinkles on his face deepening while warmth practically oozes from him as he has this whole grandpa vibe. The man has worked for us his entire life and doesn’t have his own family, so he treats us all like his grandchildren on most days.
“Hi, George!” I wave at him and speed up my pace, my sneakers tapping soundly on each step until I finally reach the ground and come closer to him. “I told you many times to just call me Jimena.” The man used to run around the garden trying to catch me back in the day and faced a lot of my tantrums, so the idea of him addressing me this formally doesn’t sit well. “How are you?” I tap him on the shoulder.
“Good, good. I’m going on paid vacation soon.” He opens the car door for me. “Your father practically ordered for me to take one.”
“Sounds like him,” I tease him and get inside, letting him shut the door, and it takes a minute for him to close the umbrella and hop in as well, starting the vehicle. “Where are you going?”
“To the Bahamas. I figured since your father is paying, I might as well go crazy.” He catches my reflection in the review mirror and wiggles his brows. “Maybe meet a nice old lady. I wouldn’t mind having some company.”
I push my bag farther away and rest my back against the seat while pressing on the button, rolling down my window and allowing for the fresh air to slip in and inhale into my lungs. Somehow, the way home seems even more suffocating than I originally anticipated. “Just a small tip, George. Ladies don’t like to be called old.”
He barks out a laugh, turning swiftly to the right until we leave the airport and get on the narrow road leading us to our mansion located on the outskirts of the city. I have around forty minutes to mentally prepare myself and put my mask back on.
The mask I’ve mastered over the years and learned to wear if I wanted to survive in our home.
A home that has a place for my perfection and none for my imperfections because only one person has a right to be imperfect and show his true emotions in our house, and that’s my brother.
And the truly tragic part about it?
I can’t even hate him for it, and somehow just end up hating myself more.
“Enough about me! Tell me about yourself. How was Europe? Your mother told me you traveled to several countries. You must have had some fun.”
Taking a hairband from my bag, I quickly braid my long locks while answering his question. “Just two. I went to Italy and Greece to explore art and ancient cultures, soaking up the rich history of those countries that span centuries.”
Not to mention amazing food and people where I could forget about all my worries and a green-eyed devil who occupies my mind in dreams and nightmares alike as he urges me to explore the darkest and deepest parts of me that crave to indulge in sin as their next breath.
“Oh, that’s great, kiddo. Perfect choice, actually, in your current circumstances.” He grips the steering wheel tighter as the rain intensifies, tapping soundly on the roof, and I extend my hand from the open window, welcoming the droplets on my palm.
Anything is great as long as it distracts me from my internal turmoil. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I figured it’s great to travel and explore Europe while you studied in a Spanish boarding school. Now that you’re back home for good, though, and plan to attend the university here, it would have been more difficult.” His voice softens when he adds, “You hate to fly and all that.”
