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“Tell us what’s going on, now.”
He smiles what I’m sure he thinks is a calming and somewhat charming smile.
“Why don’t we all sit down. This doesn’t need to be contentious. Let’s just talk.” And as if to lead by example he and wife sit down on the love seat across from the couch.
I make a snap judgment when I see Lucía still crouched in front of her mother, trying to comfort her.
I sit and say,
“Okay, talk.”
His eyes flit to his niece and then back to me.
“What’s going on is that Lucía’s rich now. We are the ones who took her in and raised her. We deserve to be compensated for that.”
Lucía hops up and turns to them, her eyes wide and hot with rage.
“You raised me?” she hisses at them. “You made me your live-in maid. You ignored me. Made me eat alone in the kitchen.” She turns to her aunt and her eyes narrow. The woman pales. “And you.” The “you” is filled with venom. “You stole from me.” Her teeth are clenched.
Her aunt’s eyes widen in mock horror. “You little liar. You owe us,” she says her voice trembling, lacking the bravado of her husband.
Her mother surges out of her seat and makes a beeline for the woman. I grab her just as he reaches her, arm drawn back and ready to strike. She doesn’t resist my restraint, but leans toward them to say, “You are vile people. You have so much, and yet you want more.”
“Who doesn’t want more? What we’re asking for is nothing for someone like you. Pay us or we’ll make sure that everyone knows who Ana really is. We watched your interviews. Your little story about her being a girl from LA was cute, but we know better. Three million dollars and you can rest easy that we’ll leave you alone.” Lucía pales and she staggers back to the couch to sit down. Her mother starts crying again and I just look at him.
He’s wearing a straight face, but I can see the strain. I want to laugh at the absolute brazenness of his statement.
“Three million dollars,” I repeat slowly.
“Yes. Insignificant really. I mean, you’ve got planes, and own buildings. I saw you two all over each other, but that Lucía doesn’t really exist. It’s a new day in America. All those undocumented activists who walked around like they had a right to, they’re being rounded up and deported. And when they find out she’s getting rich off her crimes, they’ll kick her out so fast, her head will spin.”
Lucía’s mother is on the move again and this time I can’t stop her. The room is silent as the crack of her palm on his face reverberates.
Her eyes grow wide and she covers her mouth with her hand.
He doesn’t even flinch.
“You just battered a police officer, Marisol,” he says with cold eyes glaring at her. She doesn’t even look his way. She lifts her chin, in the same way Lucía does, grabs her purse and walks out of the room.
Lucía is still sitting on the couch, but her eyes are glued to the floor, her face expressionless.
I walk over to her and put my hand on her shoulder. “Luc, go with your mom. Get in the car, I’m coming.” She nods numbly and without looking at me walks out of the room, too.
I turn to her uncle. I assess him, he’s a bully and his wife is a fool. But these are the most dangerous types of people.
“Mr. Carras,” he says as if we’re old friends. “Let’s take the emotion out of it. Now that it’s just us men we can make a deal.” I glance at his wife whose existence he seems to have forgotten.
I sneer at him and say, “I don’t see another man in this room. Don’t come near Lucía or her mother again, or I’ll ruin everything you even think you care about and leave you intact to live with the devastation.”
“She is my niece.” His voice shows emotion for the first time, anger emanating from the last word. “We took care of her. She’s basically won the lottery. She needs to take care of us, too. That’s how blood works.” He’s spitting at the end of his sentence.
I look at his wife. She’s sitting with her head hanging down between her shoulders. I can’t tell if the pose is one borne of shame or defeat, but either one makes me want to shake these people.
“She owes you shit. Exactly what you gave her. Don’t call her or her mother again. Unless it’s to apologize.” I turn to walk out. He calls after me.
“You’re making a mistake, Mr. Carras. I know you think you’re powerful and can’t be touched by someone like me, but Lucía’s not.”
I don’t stop walking until I’m at my car. I can see Lucía and her mother inside. Through the windshield, I can see that they are having a furiously heated conversation. They are both in the backseat, their hands gesturing wildly as they talk.
