Page 97 of No Merciful Corruption

Lettie frowns. “What’s so funny?”

“Your brother.” Dahlia answers coyly.

My sister exchanges glances with our grandfather who shrugs. A loose curl falls in front of her eyes and she swiftly tucks it back into her updo.

Lettie spent so many years dyeing and straightening her hair that I’ve forgotten how much she resembles our mother. Dark golden-brown locks frame her face, complemented by golden-brown eyes. Next to Allegra, the only thing hinting at them being related is the texture of their abundant curls. Otherwise, Lettie doesn’t bear much of a resemblance to us, she never did. Aside from the light complexion she inherited from Abuelo, she looks like a slightly altered, younger version of our mother.

“They always kiss.”

Allegra’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.

“Why?”

Dahlia responds, “Because you kiss people when you love them.”

With a curt, matter-of-factness only children in their state of absolute innocence can possess, she tilts her little head, shoves a spoonful of beans into her mouth, looks at her parents and says, “Is that why Mami kissed Mr. Jeremy?”

I spit up my wine.

Lettie drops the knife in her hand, Abuelo casts a judgmental look across the table, and all the color leaves Karina’s face. Dahlia’s brows shoot up to her forehead as she sits back to enjoy the show.

Diego is silent. Simmering in place.

“Allegra…” Karina is too horrified to formulate a sentence.

“Does this one know you’re married?” Dahlia takes a satisfied sip of her drink. “Cuz, y’know, that caused so many issues between you and the last hook-up.”

Karina’s eyes narrow to slits. She looks like she wants to gun down Dahlia from across the table. “Isn’t your husband a mob Don?”

“Didn’t you get knocked up by his brother while married to someone else?”

“Ey!” Abuelo slams a hand down on the table. “No delante de la niña. Leticia.” He kisses Allegra’s hand and sets her down on the floor. “Llévatela.”

“Ven, preciosa.” Lettie ushers a pouting Allegra out of the room as she waves goodbye to us like a soldier about to be sent off to war.

Once it’s the five of us, Abuelo wipes the corners of his mouth with a cloth napkin and sits back in his chair. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s aged in recent years. Although still remarkably fit and strong for a man in his eighties, he was never the same after his stroke. He’s easily exhausted and never seems to get enough rest, the bags under his eyes now a permanent resident on his face. Still tall and sturdy, he could easily pass for fifteen years younger, twenty if I was being generous. But as someone who remembers what their grandfather looked like while still in the prime of his life, the difference is noticeable.

“A ver,” he says diplomatically. “Quiero saber lo que está pasando en esta casa.”

The room remains quiet.

He lifts a hand as if to signal for our undivided attention. “I was married to your grandmother for over fifty years. And we never, ever brought our problems to the dinner table. Ever. Mucho menos delante de los niños. I want to know what is going on. Now!”

Dahlia pushes out her seat. “I feel like Diego and Karina should⁠—”

He points a finger at her. “Sit. Down.”

She plops back into her seat.

Abuelo’s piercing blue eyes survey the table. “I am well past my child-rearing years. Or perhaps you’ve forgotten since I spend most of my time keeping the four of you on short leashes.” He gestures between Karina and Dahlia. “If the two of you want to kill each other entonces háganlo. But not in front of me and most certainly not in front of Lela. Is this what you want her to learn from a young age? That family is your first enemy?”

Both Dahlia and Karina avoid the scrutiny of his gaze.

“¿Quién es Yemmy?”

Karina’s humiliation intensifies. “It’s Jeremy, Abuelo.”

He waves a flippant hand. “Eso mismo.”