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“Give me my jacket and go back inside like the good boy you are, and then I can be on my way.”
He shrugs off my jacket, handing it over with a look of hesitation. “Are you going to tell me your name?”
“Don’t worry, we'll have plenty of opportunities for that later. Goodnight, Mateo.”
Walking away light on my feet, with excitement exploding inside me at how close I am to vengeance, I slide a hand in the pocket of my jacket. My smile spreads wider when my fingers don't come in contact with the rose I placed in my pocket before arriving at the party. I brought it with me in case I needed it. Just because I'm a hitman doesn't mean all deaths are planned out. Never have I left behind a victim's body without accompanying it with a gift.
The difference this time is, Mateo got to receive his ahead of time. The first of many. I will shower him with so much good, it'll be harder for him to see the bad coming.
Three
Mateo
The lights coming on from behind me have me spinning around to face the back doors. I release a long sigh of relief when I see no one there. When I turn back toward the stranger, he's gone. Not ready to go inside, I sit down on the bench in front of the fountain and glance up at the stars. It's so peaceful and quiet. Nothing like how it is in my house right now. I forgot how good it felt to be alone outside. I've had moments to myself in my room but they weren't the same. Out here, the air isn't stuffy and doesn't feel limited. For a little while I can pretend I'm someone else. Closing my eyes, I inhale the fresh air, no longer caring about the cold. I lose myself out here for what feels like hours, not returning inside until most of the lights go off.
A guard greets me on my way back inside, and the house no longer holds all the previous party guests. It's quiet and the echo of the door closing behind me is louder than I expect, and my hand freezes in place at the sound of a low voice. “Out on one of your late-night walks again, Mateo?”
My father saunters down the stairs with a drink in his hand. “I didn’t see you for most of the party. Where did you keep disappearing to?”
I stare down at my muddy shoes and then back to meet my father’s dark brown, mysterious eyes. I could never read him, which made him even more intimidating to most people. I can't help but feel like he's hiding some hidden emotions behind his unreadable glare. “I never did like parties.”
He chuckles and the sound is dark and unnerving. “Come join me in the living room. Have a drink with your father. We haven’t done that in a while.”
We have never done that to begin with. My brother was the one my father usually enjoyed drinks and long conversations with, but he isn’t here anymore. All that’s left are his memories. Even the pictures that once were scattered along the walls next to mine are gone. As if my parents wished to wipe away all of his existence.
The only photos left are the ones in a shoe box shoved far back in my closet. I take them out every now and again, not wanting to forget what he looks like. Would he look the same today if he was still alive? I'll never know. All thanks to this life my father has forced us to be a part of. They say it was a car accident but I know better. My grandfather never saw him as family. He wasn't my mom's son. It didn't matter to me. He was my brother and I miss him even if we were kept apart most of the time. Will my photos go missing from the walls someday too?
Coming closer and out of the shadows, I sit as far away from my father as I can, leaning my back against the hard upholstery of the chair that was originally meant to be here for nothing more than decorative purposes. Like most things in my dad's life. My father stands up and walks to the small bar at the back of the room to pour tequila into his glass. He fills another before handing it to me and falling back into a long black lounge chair that sits in the middle of the room. The fire crackles beside me but it isn’t loud enough to drown out the unsettling silence that moves between us. My father slowly sips his drink, staring straight ahead and the flames of the fire dance in his dark eyes.
“Tell me, Mateo, where is it you go off to when no one is around?”
I tilt my head to the side, shuffling in my seat. “What do you mean?”
“I think you know what I mean. Santiago worries about you. He thinks you’re reckless, and recklessness is what killed your brother. He always thought he was too good for rules too. In the end he chose the wrong path and look where that got him. He had so much potential.”
“Are you still worried I’m nothing like him?”
“No, I’m worried you are too much the same in all the worse ways.”
“Did you kill Isaiah? Will you kill me too?”
He laughs, shaking his head. “No, mijo. I don't kill my own children. I don't know how many times you're going to keep asking the same silly questions. Your brother didn't want to be here and now he isn't.”
I let out a shaky breath, hating how I never get the answers I'm wanting out of him. He always dances around the truth with vague responses. My brother didn't want to be here so now he's gone. What the fuck did that mean? “What is this about? I have a feeling it has to do with more than my nightly walks.” My fingers squeeze around my full glass, my stomach too unsettled for me to take a sip.
“Is there something you would like to tell me?” His eyes pierce mine, holding me hostage.
I shake my head. “No, not that I can think of. It’s been a long day and the party wore me out. I would like to go to sleep now.”
“I know you don’t want to marry Santiago. You don’t like him much, do you? You will learn eventually that in this life, you don’t need to like the person you marry, you just have to tolerate them.”
“What if I can't even do that?”
He uncrosses his legs and leans forward. “Then you drink, kill, go on as many nightly walks you need, whatever it takes until you do. In this family, there is more at stake than your feelings. When our family is finally joined with the Morales’s, we will be nearly untouchable. You didn’t want to marry a woman. And to show you that I could be somewhat accommodating the way no one ever was for me, I’m allowing you to marry a man.” He grinds his teeth together. “You should be more appreciative. It's gotten us a mixture of attention. Mostly bad, but no one will dare touch two of the most threatening families in all of Mexico. No matter how disagreeing they are with our choices. “
“Appreciative? Of what? Being allowed to marry a man of your choosing. A fucking monster.”
“You will soon realize you can’t always have what you want, but you can come close. I want you sitting in this chair someday, and marrying Santiago will help get you there. It will increase your chances of a long life.”
