Well. You couldmakeit real by staying together.
But it’s—
Suddenly my previous objections fade away. My wife makes me laugh. She even put a smile on my face without my realizing it. She’s so vulnerable yet strong, like a tree standing tall and powerful in a hurricane, and I have this strange, instinctive need to protect her, so she doesn’t break in the storm.
I frown.Good God. How have I become so sentimental? This is…unnatural. “I have to go now. Enjoy your lunch,” I saybrusquely to hide the need to run and hide from the disquiet welling in my chest.
Forcing myself to keep a measured step, I head to my office. My phone pings.
–Unknown: Just because you’re trying to send me to jail doesn’t mean it’s over between us!
Oh boy.This must be Soledad, who finally figured out that I blocked her number over the weekend. Doesn’t she realize that reporting her behavior to the police signifies our relationship has gone past the point of no return?
There are district attorneys who admire my grandmother. They wouldn’t go easy on a “criminal,” especially somebody who tried to harm Catalina Huxley’s grandson.
–Unknown: I’m out. And in L.A. We need to talk. You should drop the baseless charges. You owe me that much.
I start to type,I owe the DA on your case unshakable testimony to put you in jail for a while,then stop. Engaging is encouraging. What she wants is my attention.
I delete my text and block the number. My phone buzzes again.
–Unknown: You’re a stubborn child, aren’t you?
Harvey or Mom. The possibility of the latter makes the nerve behind my eye twitch a little.
–Unknown: Do you think running is going to solve your problems?
Harvey.
–Unknown: Your wife isn’t what she seems.
She can be whatever she wants. She kept me out of your clutches.
–Unknown: Do you know she’s your mother’s goddaughter? Didn’t you ever wonder why she was so eager to help you? It’s because she needs to, for Zoe.
–Me: I don’t believe you.
If Lareina is really Mom’s goddaughter, why didn’t Mom do something to help? She could’ve swooped in like an angel, dazzled the poor girl who’d been abused for so long, then used her to fuck Harvey up. After all, Lareina is beautiful enough to attract attention, and Harvey’s a sucker for a pretty face.
–Unknown: See for yourself.
A photo of Lareina and my mother at an Italian bistro half an hour or so from here. Lareina is in a T-shirt and jeans, her unbound hair falling behind her in waves. She holds a glass of white wine without drinking it. Meanwhile, Mom… She hasn’t changed one bit. Still the same hair, although she dyed it auburn, to remind Vincent that she too is his flesh and blood. She must’ve realized by now that her father never loved her mother that much. He loves power and control, not his women or the children they bore for him.
I look for any signs of coercion or tension on Lareina’s face, but there’s nothing. My gut burns, even as I tell myself it’s gotta be a fake. These days AI can produce all sorts of seemingly real images.
–Unknown: A photo fresh off the press, so to speak. They’re still there, lingering over pasta and wine. Must have a lot to say to each other. Probably plotting a way to destroy you. You have a choice, Ares. You can either join me and destroy your mother or do nothing and become her puppet. Up to you.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lareina
The aromas of garlic, olive oil and basil hang heavily in the air. The Italian restaurant is bright with light colors that are mostly from sage and lemon cream palettes. Well-trained servers in crisp uniforms with permanently toothy smiles on their faces move among the tables—aspiring Hollywood actors and actresses, working to make ends meet before their big break. Every ten minutes or so someone launches into a short Italian aria—a bit clichéd, but it fits the ambiance.
Zoe twirls some spaghetti around her fork. The tomato-based seafood sauce on the long noodles looks like the ground-up bone marrow Doris once tried to feed me when I got stubborn about going to an art school.
To avoid the sight, I stare at the creamy chicken pesto pasta in a pretty white bowl in front of me, then glance at my chilled Riesling. Zoe ordered them, as though to prove she knows me better than I realize because I would normally love both. Or maybe she did it to show she doesn’t give a damn what I want. Either way, she’s succeeded in annoying the hell out of me. I can’t afford to touch either one, but the smell of the food makes my mouth water.Inconsiderate bitch.
Of course, she wouldn’t know that I can’t eat anything that hasn’t been tasted by another person first. So much for being my godmother, but she’s never been around to notice much. If sheever sent me any gifts… Well, they could’ve been intercepted by Doris. So I won’t hold that against Zoe.
