“Let’s go,” Marissa says in a low whisper, looking around the lot.
“Yes, let’s go before the behemoth comes after us,” Heather says, looking around.
“Yeah,” I utter in a low voice, nodding.
I grab the steering wheel, shift the car into drive, and pull out of the parking stall. I drive across the parking lot to exit on the other side, away from the thug.
What the fuck is the man talking about?
Mom never told me anything about my father. In fact, she said that my Dad was killed in a car accident before I was born.
Now, this dangerous animal is trying to take me.
This is fucking crazy!
I need to talk to Mom; I need some answers. But she’s at work.
“Who was he,” Marissa asks, after a few minutes.
“I don’t know,” I say, chewing my lower lip.
“What did he say,” Heather asks.
“That his Boss wants me, and that’s fucking scary. I don’t know what that means,” I say, my throat closing up.
“Okay, let’s get to your house; we can order some pizza and have some wine. I’m sure that will help you calm down,” Marissa says.
“Yes, wine sounds good.”
The sunshine filters through the blinds, and the sounds of the garbage truck picking up the garbage cans and dropping them back on the ground wake me up. The sharp pain pierces my head; it must be from the wine or the fucking hit I took to my face. But I did drink a lot of wine to keep from getting hysterical. It’s not every day that someone tries to take you.
Plus the man said that my Dad is alive.
Fuck!
I close my eyes tight, rolling over onto my stomach, seeing the image in my mind of the thug trying to take me. My heart still pounds fast, just remembering the huge thug. I still can’t believe that I escaped with my girl's help. I press my lips tight, roll onto my back, and force my eyelids open even though I really want to sleep in. Mom should be getting up soon. I get out of bed, take care of business, and walk to the kitchen for coffee. I make my coffee and take a few sips, looking around the small apartment. Mom works as a nurse; the apartment is small, but it’s not bad. We’re not rich, but we live comfortably in this modest apartment. We’ve always lived here; it’s home.
A few minutes later, Mom walks into the kitchen, pulling her robe close. She looks at me, walks over to grab a cup, and pours the coffee.
“Buenos dias, mija, you’re up early,” She says, taking a sip of coffee.
“Mama, si, I need to talk to you,” I say, taking another drink.
“Si, what about,” Mama asks, leaning against the kitchen counter.
“Mama, yesterday I went shopping with my chicas, a huge man attacked me, tried to take me, and the monster hit me in the face. But my chicas helped me get away from him.”
“Oh, dios mio, are you okay,” Mama asks, wide-eyed.
She sets the coffee cup on the countertop and walks over to examine my face. She grabs my chin and moves my face to look at the bruise.
“It’s just a bruise, Mama,” I hum, closing my eyes.
“Si, but I want to make sure,” Mama says, nodding.
“Mama, my face is fine, but the thug shouted that his Boss, the Cartel Boss, wants me. That I’m Cartel’s property and that my Dad is alive. Alfonso Fuentes, a Capo for the Cartel. Is it true? Mama, tell me that you didn’t lie to me all my life,” I say in a low voice, pulling away from her.
I wipe the tears that start falling, and I angrily wipe them with the back of my hand. I look at Mama, watching her close her eyes.
