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We are staying inTres Vidas, about thirty minutes away fromLas Brisas, the more iconic part of Acapulco. My family had this house for years before they started to build all the apartment complexes beside it. The house is placed on the far end of the “neighborhood,” which means a private beach and a huge amount of land.
It’s a compound of sorts with eight bedrooms, a cabana, two tennis courts, a complete gym, sauna, and the water pressure in the showers is off the charts.
At this point, the “house” could be a hotel.
Making it close to the end of the road with barely any sign of life, I pull into the entrance. A big wooden brown gate sits above a single street made of stone. Once the guard sees my face, he lets me through.
“Gracias, Angél,” I tell the man who has worked as a security guard in the complex for years.
“Un placer, señorita Luna.” I smile at him as I drive past and make my way inside the maze that isTres Vidas. After a twenty-minute drive inside the complex and passing all eighteen holes of the golf course, the house gets closer as time passes.
When people think of Mexican beaches, they think of Cabo San Lucas up north or Cancún down at the gulf. Cabo with its dark sand and blue ocean, its extensive cliffs that create the coastline. On the other side, Cancún beholds its cenotes that hold history at the bottom of the ocean and bright blue water that mixes perfectly with the white sand.
Both have their effect on people all around the world.
Acapulco used to be that in the fifties. Now being more nationally relevant, it’s the perfect escape for Mexicans situated in the middle of the country. Sitting a few hours from Mexico City, it’s our small piece of heaven.
It’s not just a place, it’s a feeling.
The deep royal blue water turns a brilliant color when the waves mix, creating an ombre effect contrasting the deeper cobalt into a lighter one. The birds chirp while perched on palm trees as the smell of salt from the clean air hits your senses. The wind blows through your hair as the sand falls between your toes and under your feet. Fresh coconut water and ceviche on the beach. Options of an assortment of tropical drinks, Piña Colada’s and Pink Panthers quench the desire for an ice-cold beverage while the sun blazes onto your skin. Walking out of the ocean through the sand as droplets of saltwater fall. A warm towel waiting for you as the sand consumes it from underneath. Your phone is silent as you read a good book with the sound of a highly competitive beach volleyball game played by people you don’t know but seem to enjoy how they cheer when they score. Sunscreen being slathered on bodies, waves overpowering smaller ones, water skidding across the sand as if it’s coming up for air. Fresh fruit and vegetables withTajínon top. Luis Miguel playing in the background as you look out on the classic beach location that takes you back to the eighties.
Acapulco is the culmination of my childhood; nothing will ever beat being a teenager and coming here every summer.
Driving past a few fallen palm trees due to the construction happening in the complex.
We finally reach the house, driving over the white stone driveway, parking easily with the amount of space that was intended for five cars at a time.
“Puta Madre,” Cleo says in the back seat as she sticks her head through the limited space in between the front seats.
“Que?” I ask before turning my head to face León Mictlanteculti Castillo. He wears a rare smile;I want to smack it off that beautiful face.
He looks older and stronger. He’s huge now and filled out with so much more muscle, too much muscle for my broken heart to process. I haven’t seen him since Ale’s crash at the Mexican Grand Prix.
Opening the car door, I step out and shut it behind me, not ignoring the fact that Cleo and Chanel are intently paying attention to this interaction. I lock the car with the press of a button so they don’t get the idea of leaving it to embarrass me.
They’ve known about my crush on him for years. They were the first people I told. Although the obsession has gone, the love I feel for him will never fade. It’s a weird idea when you think you’re over someone you’ve never actually been with. But every time I see him, it comes rushing back like a horrible migraine that only goes away surrounded by darkness.
“León, what are you doing here?” I ask.
“Mauricio told one of his men for me to give you the key,” he replies and I nod.
“Thank you, but you didn’t have to come all the way from Mexico City to give it to me.”
“I came from Sinaloa, actually, a few days ago. I was here on a job when Ale called Mauricio.”
“Oh, that’s cool,” I say and replay that response in my brain.
That’s cool?!? Vio, why the hell did you just say that?
He lets out a chuckle. Why is he so happy? This is weird. I’m scared of a happy León.
“Here you go. Everything that you didn’t want in the house is in my car. So it’s spotless in there,” he tells me, alluding to the fact that he has drugs in his trunk. That’s the nature of León,no fear.
“Boring!” Cleo shouts out.
“Cleo, what did I tell you about eavesdropping?” I yell in response, turning my head to look her straight in the eyes.
“It isn’t eavesdropping when you leave us in a locked car with the best interaction of the century happening right in front of us!” she yells.
