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“And me,” Andi said, smiling. “The vet,” she added to his blank look. “Andres knows me,” she insisted.
“Aight. One second,” the man said, going back a few steps as he reached for his phone. He absentmindedly pet one of the dogs’ heads as he made his call to, I imagine, A. “Yep. Okay. He’s expecting you. Go on in. He’s in the kitchen.”
“Do not ask for food,” Cary said under his breath to Dezi as we all moved forward.
Andi charged in first, followed by her man, then Cary and I, and followed by Dezi.
The inside of the house was very, well, understated. Classic, even. Lots of natural wood grains, neutral colors, and pops of art and sculpture that drew your attention, but didn’t overwhelm the space.
Whoever this Andres was, I could use some of his design tips.
We moved down the center hall toward the back of the house to find the kitchen.
It was a window-filled space with white top cabinets that reached the ceilings, white countertops, and light honey wood stained lower cabinets. The appliances were oversized and pricy-looking, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was for appearances, or if this A guy cooked.
But before I could think too much about anything else, the man himself.
A.
Andres Alcazar.
He was tall and fit, wearing black slacks and a black button-up that made his tan skin pop. His face was all sharp angles. The inky black hair on his head matched the stubble on his jaw and the dark lashes framing his brown eyes.
I didn’t know him from Adam, but a chill coursed through me as I looked at him, like something deep inside me recognized just how dangerous he could be.
“My favorite vet,” A said, giving Andi a slight smile. “And the man who just barely deserves her,” he added, nodding at Niro. “And who else do we—“ he started, looking over at Cary, then catching sight of me. “Shit, lil’ mama, the fuck’d you do?” he asked, shaking his head.
My stomach fell to my feet as I realized he knew who I was. It wasn’t that he was just guessing that I was the reason everyone was requesting a meeting with him. Oh, no. He recognized me.
“Shit,” Cary hissed, immediately taking a step forward.
A just sidestepped a bit to keep looking at me. His hand raised, motioning toward his shoulder. “Miss the long hair,” he said, shrugging. “But, hey, that’s me, yeah? I like something to hold onto. You fucks ever get involved with a chick without strings attached to her?” he asked, looking at Cary again.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I whispered to Cary, whose hand tightened on mine, a reassuring squeeze even though it felt like everything was falling down around us.
“For what? Leaving that fuck?” A asked, shrugging. “He was going to starve you to death sooner or later,” he added, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. “Or beat you to death,” he added, and there was a complete lack of inflection in his tone, so I had no idea how he felt about that idea.
“Okay, they get it,” Andi said, drawing his attention. “You’re a big, scary guy. You can stop now.”
“Stop being me, mama? Can’t imagine how I’d do that.”
“Shit, hey dude,” Dezi’s voice said, drawing all of our attention to the side where he’d stepped down into the family room, and nearly stepped on a tiny little dog in a bed. “I like ones like this,” he decided, picking up the dog that was no bigger than a football, and draping it over his arm as he walked back into the kitchen. “Hey, are those tamales?” he asked, pointing toward the stove as he jiggled the dog the way you might do with a fussy newborn.
“Dezi,” Cary snapped.
“Sorry, Zaddy,” Dezi said, rolling his eyes. “Huh. Air is thick as fuck in here,” he declared, getting a surprised laugh out of me, one that made A look toward me again.
“Saw you once,” A said, nodding. “Took a little trip down to that neck of the woods. Saw you walking around in this low-cut number. Had bruises all over you. Coulda cut glass with your collarbone,” he added, face twisting up at that. “Like me a woman with padding,” he finished, shrugging.
“He didn’t starve me because he liked me skinny,” I snapped, surprising not only myself, but I think everyone else there. “He just wanted to hurt me.”
“Had a neighbor once when I was a kid,” A said, waving toward his knee height. “Had this dog chained out. Day, night, blistering heat. Didn’t fucking matter. And when he got wasted, he’d take a bat to it. And the dog took it and took it and took it until one day, that chain didn’t work so good. And the fuck came out with a bat again. And got his throat torn out. Watched that shit from my bedroom window like it was the best show on TV,” he added. “Those screams sounded a fuckuva lot like justice to me, yeah?” he said.
