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Sugar Rush

Vera

I checked my bank account and groaned at the dismal balance that hadn’t budged since the last time I checked two hours ago. My tuition was due in a week, and I was starting to feel anxious as I waited for my father to deposit the funds. I had been calling and texting him nonstop for an ETA, but all my calls went to voicemail, and my texts were left on read.

“I have no choice but to call her.”

I called my father’s girlfriend on FaceTime and tapped my credit card against my desk, waiting for her to answer.

“Hello?” Celine groaned as the camera focused on her face. My mouth dropped in shock.

“Oh, my God, Celine. What happened to you? Did you get in a fight?”

“No, I didn’t get in a fight. I had work done, babes.”

“Work done? As in… plastic surgery?”

“Sí. Your papa took me to the best plastic surgeon in Miami. I had my nose done, and the skin around my eyes tightened. You see my lips?” she asked, puckering them at the screen.

“Um… yeah. They’re pretty… big,” I mumbled, touching my own full lips.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” she asked, making kissing noises at me. She hissed in pain from doing too damn much with her new lips.

“Are they still swollen, Celine, or is that the intended size?”

“This is the size, babes.”

I didn’t understand it. Celine was a gorgeous Afro-Latina woman from Colombia who used to be a model in her heyday. She never made it “big,” but for some reason thought now was her time to break out on the scene. Her lips seemed perfect before, but now they looked like they’d been stung by a hive of bees. I leaned closer to the screen when I noticed the bandeau top I thought she was wearing was actually fresh bandages. “Did you get your boobs done, too?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m a 34DDD.”

“My God,” I whispered.

“When are you going to come out and visit?”

“Probably not anytime soon since the semester is about to start. Actually, that’s what I’m calling about. I’ve been trying to reach Dad all week, but he hasn’t answered or returned my calls or texts. Is he around?”

“You’re in luck. He just walked in. Papí, Vera is on the phone!”

My brows slid to the top of my forehead when I heard him curse in the background.

That’s odd…

I grew even more suspicious when it took him forever to appear on screen.

“Hi, Pumpkin,” he said, greeting me with a conniving showroom grin. He looked as if he was about to sell me a lemon that would quit on me ten miles down the road.

Pumpkin, my ass!

“Hey, Dad. How was your trip to Miami?” I asked coolly.

“It was wonderful. Thanks for asking. How have you been? Have you and Monica been staying out of trouble?”

“That’s a rhetorical question. Monica is always in trouble.”

He sighed. “One day, that girl will lead you astray.”

“You’ve been saying that since we became roommates our freshman year,” I said, laughing at his subtle disapproval.