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“Of course, I—”
“Liars never make it into Heaven.”
Her gasp is as fake as the tears that brim in her eyes. “How dare you speak to me like that.”
“Because a fact doesn’t change no matter how you plan to twist it. It always unfurls.”
Alicia’s husband, Jorge, walks into the room then. His face is tight, and his eyes are narrowed while the heavy scent of tobacco infiltrates the room. “Prima, watch your mouth or I’ll be forced to knock it closed.”
“Silence!” My father’s sharp tone cuts through my cousin’s threat, leaving it hanging mid-air without any weight to it. There’s the anger in his eyes that catches me off guard. Since when do you defend me? “You don’t threaten my daughter, Jorge. Know your place inside my home; you touch her, and I’ll return the favor to your wife.”
Both he and Alicia tense, faces becoming ashen. My cousin moves closer to her as if to act like a shield. “Uncle, how can you—”
“You don’t threaten another man’s property.”
And there it is.
A word that cuts deep.
Destroys every bit of hope that for once, he’d be there for me.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Just eat and leave. A mantra I play on loop, forcing my emotions to the furthest recess of my mind where my heart can’t dominate. Instead, ice fills my veins, and my expression mirrors the emotionless pit I become to survive near these people.
Because they’re not my family. Never will be.
“My apologies, Tio. Won’t happen again.”
“Good.” For a few minutes, everyone stands in place, unmoving, unblinking, until my father takes a sip of his drink and waves his hand in the air. The other occupants let out a quick sigh while I remain still; I don’t trust them. “Please set the table and have our meal served in twenty minutes.”
“Yes, dear,” Mom says, voice meek while her hand grips Alicia firmly. As if worried for her. “We’ll get to it right away.”
They move toward the archways leading out and I follow, but the throat clearing makes me pause. My head turns in his direction, and his amused eyes are focused on me. “Not you.”
“Okay.” I acquiesce with a neutral expression, knowing what’s coming and the small bit of leverage I have at the moment. He needs me, and without my help, they’d never pull off what he hopes to accomplish. “I’ll stay, but he leaves.”
“You’re pushing it today, cousin. You don’t have a say—”
Dad holds up a hand, and Jorge stops mid rant. “He’ll leave.”
“You can’t be serious! She’s in no position to demand anything.”
“Am I not?” I arch a bitch brow and dare him to say something to piss his precious uncle off. Wimp. “You also forget I’m his daughter. Ruthlessness runs in our blood.”
“Uncle Diego, do you hear her? How can you just sit there and not correct her behavior?”
“Like this.” Before my cousin can move back, my father stands to his full height—towers over him while bringing down the not empty tumbler on his face. The sickening crunch is as loud as my gasp; the blood that now pours from the wound on my cousin’s nose is disgusting. Dad hits him three times before stepping back, holding out the now-cracked glass for me to take. I do so, moving close and then retaking the few steps separating us quickly, while my father offers Jorge a handkerchief. “That’s the last warning for tonight. Go home, son. I make the decisions here, not you, nor do you have any leverage over me. Keep that in mind, and this little incident won’t happen again. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Go eat and head home.”
Holding the bridge of his nose with the fabric, he turns and does as asked, but not before sending me a hateful glare. His disdain for me is no secret nor is it a sweat off my brow. Jorge looks to my father for approval, wants to be his child, and has tried to one-up me all my life.
He has a seat at the city council.
He has an Ivy league education.
He does as he is told without question.
