La Carnicera

by Olson, Yolanda

  The bite of what I’ve just said digs deeper than it should, and with anger surging through me, I glance down and strike the top of his head with my brush.

  “And for what?” I shout at him, “To end up as nothing more than a fucking ornament to be displayed?”

  A gentle, hesitant knock at my door greets my ears, and I take a steadying, deep breath. I hate that my emotions have shifted again so damn quickly, and I know whoever has heard me yelling on the other side of the door, is more than likely afraid of coming in now.

  “Entrar!” I call out as I place my brush down and grip the edge of my dresser with both hands.

  “I heard you shouting. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  Without turning around, I know that when I turn my eyes to meet the person who’s reflection is in the mirror, I’ll be greeted with the welcoming sight of none other than Tatiana Cancio—the rightful heir to the empire Papa has built on the back of my willingness to shed so much blood for him.

  And that’s okay.

  I’ve told myself so many times that Tati deserves the fruits of the harvest I reap for her, because it’s her right and her destiny to rule Navolato when Papa is gone.

  The thought of him having to leave one day resonates inside of me like a fucking volcano ready to erupt. I hope I don’t live to see that day, though. Not just because I don’t want to live in a world where my father no longer breathes, but because Tati hides her own dark secrets, some darker than my own, and the streets will flow with blood heedless of innocence when she assumes the role.

  “I’m fine, Tati,” I finally say, glancing at her curious face in the mirror. “I was just having a chat with Mateo, and I lost my head.”

  “More than he did?” she asks dryly.

  I chuckle as I reach for a thin, black hair tie and pull my hair back into a loose ponytail.

  “He had it coming to him,” I tell her with a shrug when I turn around. I sit on the edge of the dresser, drumming my fingertips along the front, and cast another glance down at my fallen friend. “It didn’t make it any easier, though,” I confess quietly.

  “That just shows that you’re still human in there somewhere, little sister,” she assures me with a smile as she nods toward my chest. “Come on; get dressed, Sofi. The guests are arriving, and Papa is expecting us to be on time for once.”

  It’s at that moment I realize I’m only wearing my panties. Apparently, I lost myself in little girl thoughts somewhere between painting my lips and brushing my hair. I think everyone here can understand when that happens, though. It’s not like I had a chance to have a normal childhood, and sometimes, I lose myself in dolling myself up and trying to look like a prim and proper young lady. One that’s easy to love because of what she looks like on the outside, and not because of the monster she harbors on the inside. Love out of fear is meaningless to me and I hate that most of those under Papa’s rule choose to fear me instead of getting to know me.

  I quickly walk over to my bed and grab the sundress that Anabella laid out for me. I pull it over my head, smooth out the small wrinkles near the hem, and then reach down under my bed for my best black flats.

  My sister is very self-conscious about my being a few inches taller than her, so I never wear heels in her presence. I guess it’s my own special way of silently thanking her for being one of the people here who genuinely loves me.

  One final glance into the mirror, a quick primp of my hair, and I’m ready to go downstairs and act like a normal, young woman.

  While I never particularly give a shit about looking like a paper doll when I’m required to, I do my best to present myself in a way that would be pleasing to others.

  “Ready,” I say with a smile as I walk over to take Tati’s outstretched hand and let her lead me out of my room. I listen to her tell me in her excited hushed whisper about the last man she fucked and how good it was, all the way down the stairs and to the main floor.

  With as much as I hate that she loves to give more detail than needed, I decide to let her have this little comfort of hers because there’s no one else she can tell these things to.

  I just wish she’d pick her damn conquests better.

  As daughters of El Señor, we are held to the highest standards in this life. While Tati is used to it, I’m still trying to get adjust to having been thrust into it, but I know that we must maintain a particular image.

  But, as I’ve said, we both have our secrets, and even though blood doesn’t make us who we are to each other, our bond does.

  * * *

  “Mi hijas, there you are!” Papa exclaims loudly, a huge smile appearing on his lips when he catches sight of us.

  I can see the tension all over his face at us arriving a few moments late, but it will be forgiven, as all things are.

  Tati lets go of my hand almost instantly and rushes into our father’s embrace. It makes me smile, because, like me, all she wants to do is please him as best as she can.

  And sometimes, it’s merely showing up on time, dressed properly, and ready to entertain his guests like good little hosts.

  “Sofi,” Papa says, snapping me out of my thoughts. I smile at him bashfully, a touch of crimson making its way across my cheeks as I quickly walk over to him and slip underneath his other waiting arm.

  “You both are growing into beautiful young women,” the mayor says, and I do my best not to roll my eyes. His praise means nothing to me since most of Papa’s problems are caused by this two-faced bastard constantly swearing in new Federales to shut us down.

  “Right,” I reply evenly.

  Papa gently squeezes my side in an attempt to get me to let bygones be bygones just for tonight, but treachery is something I can never forgive.

  Alcalde Morales gives me a tight smile in return, and I decide it’s best if I turn my eyes away from him for the time being. Glancing around the room, I take in the guests that have already arrived and the ones that are still slowly streaming in.

  Someone here is a spy—there’s always at least one or two, and I’m usually good at picking them out. No matter how much our father begs his daughters to just enjoy a simple gathering of Navolato’s Elite, I’m always ready to save his life at a moment’s notice.

  Anabella enters the room with the rest of her staff, and I watch with a smile as they wander around the room, carrying sterling silver trays adorned with crystal flutes of champagne.

  While it may look like they’re walking around randomly, they move in the directions she’s dictated before the night began.

  We exchange a small nod before I lose sight of her in the crowd.

  After what she saw today, I’m sure the last thing she wants to do is linger any closer than she has to, evident by the fact that instead of serving Papa and his guests herself, she sent her daughter, Magdalena, to do it.

  Our eyes linger on each other over the glass as I raise it to my red lips. She’s such a beautiful young woman, taller than average but not as tall as I am. Exquisite, naturally tanned skin, big hickory-colored brown eyes, and a smile that could call the devil forth anytime she wants. Her shiny black hair is tucked behind her ears, while the rest is held neatly in place by a silver clip.

  All of the beauty that I could ever imagine in the world hides underneath her black slacks and white dress shirt. The curves of her body are a temptation that even the same devil she calls forth wouldn’t be able to resist.

  “Señorita,” she says, a smirk creasing her lips as she tears her eyes away from me. I stand next to Papa, watching as she makes a show of swaying her hips on the way to serve another guest.

  Sighing, I drink down my champagne in one gulp, then looping my arm through my father’s, I rest my head on his shoulder.

  I’ll have to talk to Anabella about Magdalena but not in the way I would hope. Instead of telling her that I would love to know what her daughter’s cunt tastes like, I’ll find a way to get her mother to chastise her for her blatant display of sexuality at such an inappropriate time,
and maybe she’ll send her away.

  It will break her heart and more than likely deal some damage to my own resolve, but she’ll understand it’s for the best. And over time I will too.

  I’ll be kind when I speak to her, though. I’ll make sure that if Magdalena has to go, she’s not sent so far away that either of us won’t be able to find her again one day.

  I just know that for now, it’ll be easier to focus on what my life should be, on who I should be, instead of what I wish everything was.

  Chapter Three

  Somewhere above me, Mateo is slowly rotting while I speak to El Alcalde’s son. He’s told me that his name is Pablo Morales and that he’s “enchanted” to finally meet Papa’s daughters.

  But if that were true, then Tati would be in this little semi-circle conversation as well, closing the gap instead of leaving an empty spot open.

  Where the fuck is Tati?

  The question sinks into my mind now more than ever as I scan the crowd again and realize that she’s nowhere to be found. I only hope that wherever she is, she’s staying out of fucking trouble.

  Embarrassing Papa is a no-go, and if I can’t see her, I can’t get her out of any fucking mess she may be getting into.

  “Well, it was nice to meet you, Pablo,” I tell him distractedly as I turn to walk away. He claps a hand around my forearm, and I look back at him, arching an eyebrow. I don’t like it when people touch me unless it’s invited, but the sharp look I’m giving him doesn’t seem to deter his intentions any.

  “Leaving already? I’ve only told you my name so far,” he says with a chuckle.

  “Oh.”

  I blanch at coming to the realization that standing here with him seemed like hours instead of mere minutes. And honestly, if “only” knowing his name is this damn boring, I really don’t want to spend any more time listening to anything else he may have to say.

  I clear my throat and force a smile onto my face as I reach for another glass that floats by on a silver tray. I decide to give Pablo my undivided attention after he lets go of my arm, because it seems like the personable thing to do. Of course, if he touches me again, it’ll be the last thing he remembers.

  Allowing my eyes to come into focus, I arch an eyebrow without meaning to. Pablo is actually a very good-looking young man. I gather that he’s somewhere in his late twenties, or early thirties. His light brown hair is kept closely shorn, and the small gold chain around his neck that drops into a cross just in the middle of his chest sets off the color of his skin.

  His eyes, like most of the guests here, are brown but not too dark. They look like small pools of chocolate ready to be made into solid candy bars. While his face is cleanly shaven, I can see the shadow of hair that’s creeping slowly to the surface. His body is lean, and I’m sure pleasant to behold, but the cockiness he holds the rest of himself up with is the only thing that speaks to me.

  Just once I’d like to meet someone with blue eyes; it must be so different and beautiful to see, I think wistfully as I take a step away from him.

  “I’m sorry, please continue,” I say as brightly as I can. But the effort I’m using right now for faking happiness is starting to make my cheeks hurt, and I’m becoming a little worried that he’ll notice.

  I fold an arm across myself as I take another sip of my champagne while he begins to drone on about the privileges he has as the son of the mayor, all of the things he’s been able to do alongside his father to help the community, and how seeing the smiling faces of the citizens of Navolato is payment enough for his time.

  He conveniently manages to leave out that he’s enjoying the hospitality of a man that he’d give anything to have taken into custody, as well as see his empire reduced to nothing more than the rubble it once was.

  My thoughts drift off as he continues to talk. I have to let it happen because if I focus too closely on what he should be doing, which is begging my father’s fucking pardon, I’ll make a hasty decision that will put us all in danger. Pablo continues his pathetic attempt to hold my attention, and while I know it’s bad manners to not listen to him, I can’t help it. He loves himself too much to be taken seriously, isn’t addressing what I would expect, and although I seem to be the only woman here at this event not salivating for his attention, he doesn’t seem to be interested in letting up either.

  After another quick glance around the room searching for signs of my sister, I see that I’m the envy of every female here before I turn my attention back to him again for the next minute or so. I don’t care about that or them. I want to get the hell out of this place already and find Tati.

  “Sofi?” he asks again, the smile on his lips faltering slightly.

  “Hm?”

  “I asked if you wanted to dance with me.”

  I look down at his outstretched hand, wondering how long he’s been standing like this, feeling every bit of the fool I take him for.

  I smile genuinely this time as I shake my head, “I lost a friend today, Pablo. I don’t think dancing would be the best way to honor him.”

  As soon as the gentle rejection is out of me, he’s no longer smiling; if anything, the tight line on his lips tells me that he’s fighting an anger that seems to be building inside of him. I don’t think Pablo is used to hearing the word “no”, but we all have to learn lessons at some point in our lives, and this is simply his turn.

  “Enjoy the rest of your night,” I say distractedly as I decide that now is the best time to walk away. I don’t know what else he wants me to tell him, but I’m done trying to entertain his ego for the evening.

  He scoffs in an attempt to seem in control of the situation, and I give him a shrug before I make my way quickly through the crowd.

  * * *

  It’s been half an hour, and there’s still no sign of Tati. It’s becoming painfully obvious to me at this point that she’s taken off and left me to be the good daughter tonight. While it’s true that we usually take turns, Papa wanted us both to remain present here and made us promise that we wouldn’t leave without letting him know first.

  “Sofi!”

  I stop walking the moment I hear Papa’s voice and turn to face him. He’s walking toward me with a glass in his hand, a smile on his face, and discontent in his eyes. I immediately begin to wrack my brain, trying to think of anything I could have done to displease him lately, but when he reaches me and wraps an arm around my shoulder, the thoughts drift away.

  Had he been upset with me, he wouldn’t embrace me as he just did.

  “Yes?” I ask, tilting my face up toward his and tucking a stray hair behind my ear.

  “Where’s Tati?” he inquires in a quiet tone as he nods at one of his guests walking by us.

  I take a deep breath and let it out unhappily. It seems she didn’t ask his permission to leave, and now it will more than likely fall on me to find her.

  “I don’t know, Papa,” I answer truthfully.

  He shakes his head as his arm drops away from me, and he raises the glass to his lips. The last thing in this world I hate seeing is my father looking so disappointed.

  “Do you want me to look for her?” I ask him nervously.

  “No. I’ll talk to her in the morning,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. I watch his dissatisfaction turn to thoughtfulness before he glances down at me. “What does Pablo want?”

  “I wasn’t really listening,” I tell him with a shrug. “Mostly to tell me what a great man he is and all he’s done for the people here.”

  Papa rolls his eyes, and I bring my hand to my mouth to hide my smile. It’s not very often that I see him react so … normally to anything, but when he does, it’s always an amusing sight to see. It means that he’s still human, just like Tati reminded me earlier that I am too.

  He sucks his teeth for a moment before he rubs my back, then gives it a pat, “You can go if you’d like. I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask, surprised.

  He nods, “I have men here. No
thing will happen, and if it does, they’ll take care of it. Go back to your room, go for a walk; whatever you’d like. You showed up, and that’s all I asked of you. Besides,” he says with a wry smile, crinkling the edges of his kind eyes. “if you don’t get out of here soon, I may have someone asking me for your hand in marriage.”

  Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes, and Papa chuckles. I lean up to give him a kiss on the cheek before excusing myself from his presence.

  He knows that it’s taking my entire will to walk away and leave him here in the company of these people. Most would secretly wish to see him captured or killed, while very few genuinely appreciate everything he does for Navolato.

  “Good night,” I tell him softly. He echoes the sentiment, and I know it’s time for me to go.

  I walk away from Papa, wiping away a stray tear as I set my glass down on the edge of a table.

  Not many things in this world make me feel, but the love of a man who cares for me as one of his own when he could have simply walked by me, as so many before him had, is something that I will do anything to protect and proudly kill for.

  But not tonight.

  I’m nothing more than the dutiful daughter doing what she must to keep her father the happy man she knows him to be, and I’ll retire to my room quietly and without argument.

  Tomorrow is a new day, the sun will rise, and all will continue to be well.

  Chapter Four

  The hallway is darker than it should be when I tried to make my way to my room, so the attack comes as a surprise.

  I tell myself that over and over again to make the blow of the shame feel less than it already does. The rough way I’m being treated right now tells me that this is either an act of revenge or an invitation to war.

  A hand closes on the back of my neck as I’m forced into the bathroom. I hadn’t heard anyone follow me, but I was so lost in my thoughts of the way Magdalena damn near threw herself at me that I let my guard down. I cared more for the whereabouts of my sister than my own surroundings, and that’s how I let this happen. I wanted nothing more than to stay in a room of men that hate my father to protect him, and I deserve this for abandoning him.