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“An horchata is fine.” He nods, and before he can ask me what I want to eat, I hold a hand up. “I’m not going to eat here; I’ll be placing my order to-go a few minutes before I leave. Thanks.”
“Of course, you just let me know when you’re ready.” Turning his attention from me, he looks at them. “And for you two?”
“Why aren’t you eating with us? You chose this place.” Alton ignores the waiter, directing his attention to me. A flash of annoyance crosses his features, but he hides it quickly.
“Please choose something, London.” Dad isn’t happy either, he’s looking down at the menu, lips in a thin line as he makes his plea. A plea with a hidden edge of do as you’re told.
“No, thank you.” They hate my talking back. They hate anyone that challenges them.
Like Malcolm, who doesn’t take shit and won’t hesitate to let you know how beneath him you are.
“We don’t want to argue. That’s fine,” Alton says then, his expression back to that sad look he gave me at Mom’s grave. “I’ll have the chef’s taco tray; the six count is fine. Bring extra lime and another Modelo with them.”
“Of course, and for you, sir?” he asks, not looking at my father, busy jotting it all down.
“I’ll have a large chicken tortilla soup. That’s it.”
“Perfect. I’ll put this in now and be back with your drink, Miss.”
Once more the table goes quiet after the waiter leaves. It makes me wonder what’s the point to this. Why ask to talk and say nothing?
I take in a deep breath and let it out slow. “Why am I here?”
“We wanted to talk with you away from his influence. Try to make you see reason, Lola.” Dad shifts in his seat, grimacing when his arm hits the table’s edge. He pulls it toward his body, the sling digging into his shoulder—a shoulder where a small piece of bandage peeks out from the collar of his pullover. “He’s using you to get to us. It’s not love or whatever bullshit Asher said to turn you against us. Your family.”
“Really?” His words sting, but I keep my expression neutral. With them, I expect the attack. They want me to doubt myself. “Is that the best you can come up with?”
“London, he told us as much.” Alton grabs my hand atop the table, giving it a squeeze, and my body wants to recoil at his touch. I try to remove my hand from his grip, but he holds tight. “You have to believe us. You are nothing but a pawn in a sick game.”
“Let go of my hand.” I keep my voice strong. I’m a bit louder than usual so Javier and Gina can hear me. And they do. A chair scrapes against the flooring with the sound of footsteps following, getting closer to our table.
“London, a word please.” Gina leaves no room for argument as she reaches for my hand in Alton’s, and with a flick of the wrist, releases his hold.
I’m quick to stand, taking a few steps back while avoiding their gaze. “I need to visit the restroom anyway. Let’s go.” The bathrooms are across the restaurant, and we bypass an angry-looking Javier as we do. His phone is in his hand. Once inside, I turn to face her and let out the breath I’ve been holding since Alton touched me. “Thank you.”
“None needed.” Gina wets a wad of paper towels in her hand and places them on my forehead. “Next time your brother so much as breathes wrong, I’m shooting him. Anyone with a working neuron can see how uncomfortable you are with them.”
“I’m more upset by the crap they are trying to pull. The things they are saying about Malcolm.”
“Please tell me you don’t believe—”
“No, I don’t.” Giving her a soft smile, I turn around and open the faucet to splash some water on my face. The coolness feels amazing against my flesh and it calms me. Helps re-center me. After a few more minutes of quiet, I dry my face and neck. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
“You don’t have to. We can leave...just say the word.”
“I know.”
The restaurant is a bit fuller when we step out, with a large group blocking my way as I go back toward Alton and Dad. It forces me to walk around the group and staff helping them sit, putting me right behind their table where the two are oblivious to my presence.
“Fucking asshole has sunk his claws deep into her,” Alton spits out before taking a deep pull from the beer he was nursing. “She’s going to make this hard, and I’m taking it out on her ass the moment I get my hands on her. No more waiting.”
“Calm down, son.” Dad scratches his jaw, tilting his head toward an angry Javier watching them. “We can’t act now...they have her under tight surveillance.”
“Then when, old man? Because the longer we wait, the harder it will be.”
“Eyes on the prize. Remember that.” Marcus reaches over and grabs my drink, taking a few sips without shame. When the contents are halfway gone, he places the cup down, and turns to look over at the family with two screaming kids. “With the older cunt gone, the younger one won’t be a problem. Stick to the plan, Alton. We sell her virgin holes, take her inheritance, and keep the pathetic bitch as a personal slave to bring in money.”
“She’s mine.” Alton nods while it feels as though the floor beneath my feet has been taken from me. How can they be so cruel? How could I be so stupid to come here?
