by Croft, Rose
“Oh, look at this?” His gravelly voice rose mockingly. “You gonna hurt me? Kill me?” His thumb jabbed into the thin skin at my throat, and I raised my chin trying to ease the pressure. I ignored the pain in my hand as I curled my thumb around the sharp edge to get a better grip. He rasped out a chuckle. “Take your best shot. Let me see if this kitten has claws. Better make it count because I’m gonna fuck you till you bleed and then kill you.” He watched me like I was an amusing cartoon character. Completely harmless in his eyes.
A feral scream bubbled in my chest rising until it erupted through my constricted throat, and I drew up all of my strength and hatred fueling me to drive my fist down into the side of his neck. Immediately, the pressure on my windpipe eased. His hand slid helplessly down my chest while his eyes bugged in shock. His body jerked and gurgled sounds fought to slip between his lips. I kept pressing the glass thinking this monster would soon get his second wind and come back to life and kill me.
However, the twitching of his body stopped, the odd noises were silenced. The only sounds were my heavy breaths and the laughter and voices coming from outside. His wide eyes stared at me, unblinking, and a pipeline of blood pumped out of his neck into a sea of crimson on the floor.
At that moment, I questioned who I was because I should’ve been sick and scared and run as far away as possible. However, I was only cautious to let up pressure as if letting go of the glass would miraculously bring him back to life.
“Sofí!”
I heard my brother’s voice behind me.
“What did you do?” He fell down beside me.
“He attacked me.”
“We have to get you out of here.” He eventually unclasped my hand from the broken glass. “Jesus, you’re bleeding.” He reached behind him and pulled off his T-shirt wrapping the fabric around my hand.
“He’s going to wake up and come after me again.”
“He’s dead, Sofía.” He pulled me with him leading me to the door. “Stay behind me and keep quiet.”
Sofía—Age 18, Dallas
“Sofía, you got a table for three in your section,” Yulisa, the hostess, informed me as I was rolling napkins around silverware. Doing the last-minute tasks before my shift was over. I was working the evening shift at El Volcán, a Salvadorian restaurant.
I groaned. “Why?” I tucked in the corner of the napkin and set it aside. “Why didn’t you tell them we close at eleven o’clock?”
“Because it was ten fifty-five when they came in, and you know the policy.”
Of all nights. I was going to be here at least an hour later, and I still needed to study for my midterms. “I know.” The owner would fire us if we turned away business. No matter what our hours were. I smoothed my apron and followed Yulisa through the kitchen to the front.
As I approached the table, I saw three men sitting around conversing in a mixture of Spanish and English. Three very handsome men—one in a suit with black hair, cut and styled to perfection, another one who was dressed more casual equally as gorgeous, but when I turned to the next guy, I swear I felt my heart speed up. He had long, glossy hair that hung around his face. His eyes were dark and intense. His nose was slightly marred as if it’d been broken. He looked dangerous, and yet… there was something prideful in his demeanor. Like a warrior from another century.
I recognized the native tongue. Our restaurant was rising in popularity as one of the hot places to eat. Lately, the yuppie types had started coming because El Volcán was getting accolades from many local food critics. Our menu consisted of many Latin fusion dishes, but there was a whole section dedicated to traditional El Salvadoran food. I could tell these three were not posers.
“El Salvador,” I said as I stood by the table.
The wicked one turned his head in my direction and raised his eyebrows.
“You’re from El Salvador. I’m Salvadoran.” The words fell out with ease.
“¿Verdad? No pareces Salvadoreña.” He grinned as though I was lying.
“Oh, yeah?” I challenged in Spanish. “What am I supposed to look like?” I knew what he meant. For years, people made comments on my lighter hair and different color eyes. La Gatita is what I was called in my past life because people said my eyes looked like those of a cat.
“Fuck if I know, but I ain’t ever seen anyone as fine as you.” His eyes lit up making his devilish face seem not so severe.
“Estás borracho, Emilio.” The guy next to him scoffed and shook his head. “Leave the poor girl alone.”
Emilio. His name was Emilio.
“Fuck you, bro. I’m not drunk.” His voice echoed off the walls. Luckily, they were the only customers in the restaurant.
“Hey. Tone it down,” Suit Guy warned with a smile. He looked at me with an apologetic face. “Sorry. It’s his birthday.”
I nodded. “Understandable.” I smiled. “What can I get you?”
Emilio rubbed his hands together and ordered half the items on the menu. “And three beers.”
I brought the drinks. The three men were joking around being loud, especially Emilio.
“I’ll have your appetizers out soon. Is there anything else you need?”
Emilio kicked out the empty chair at the four-top table. “Why don’t you join us and have a beer.”
I heard the pfft from the guy beside him while the one across from him shook his head with a slight smile.
“I can’t. I’m working.”
Emilio glanced around the restaurant. “No one else is in here, and I won’t tell.”
“I’ll lose my job if I get caught.” I bit my bottom lip. “I’m only eighteen…”
I heard a double slam of the table as the guy beside him ducked his head and his shoulders shook. “Figures,” I heard him mumble.
Was I providing comedy relief for these people? “But I’ll be nineteen tomorrow.” Why I said that? I didn’t know. I still wasn’t legally old enough to drink.
My answer made the guy beside my warrior laugh even harder.
I was beginning to get annoyed with this table.
Emilio shoved at the guy next to him. “Cállete, cabrón.” Emilio turned to me. “I don’t want to get you in trouble. No harm, no foul, right?”
I nodded pleasantly because that’s what I did when I served tables. Paste smile, ignore inappropriate comments, and act oblivious to assholes who were trying to hit on me. “Of course. I’m gonna check on your food.”
Turning away, I made a beeline to the kitchen. Gah! I just wanted this shift to be over.
“Hey, at least your late table wasn’t a total flop. Right?” Yulisa smiled leaning casually against the door to the kitchen. She stared at the lone table of three with a dreamy look on her face as though she’d find the answer to all her fantasies if she took twenty paces to the right.
“Yeah, I guess.” I watched Emilio who was talking animatedly, and every tale seemed to be punctuated with rich laughter, and then his finale was when he’d snatch an appetizer and shove it in his mouth. He seemed like someone who enjoyed life that’s for sure, or maybe he just relished hearing himself speak. The other two men were just as animated with their laughing, but then again, they weren’t shining as bright as the golden warrior with the piercing dark eyes and sensuous mouth.
He looked my way and his lips lifted into a sexy half-smile. When he smiled, his face seemed almost boyish. I stared a tick too long because his grin grew and one thick eyebrow shot up. Ugh! No. Don’t stare, Sofí!
“Sofía, your order’s ready,” Leo the cook called behind me. I grabbed a tray and reached out pulling the plates onto it. I carried them out to the table aware that Emilio’s eyes were on me.
Schooling my features, I had a death grip on the plates as I placed them and my skin pricked with caution. I felt like a poor rendition of the Discovery Channel—me an African elk that was being stalked by a herd of lions who flailed around miserably while its predators watched in eerie calmness waiting to strike. My hand wavered as I set the
final plate down in front of Emilio.
“Is there anything else you need?”
“Nah, Sofí, we’re good. Unless you want to sit down and join us.” Emilio leaned back casually with his arm slung over the chair, and his legs spread wide like he was completely comfortable in his surroundings. He called me Sofí like we were close.
I felt my phone buzz in my back pocket. “I need to help clean up in the back.” I stepped back to the kitchen and pulled out my phone.
Belinda: I’m here. Where are you?
Dammit. It was eleven forty-five. I forgot Belinda was coming to pick me up. I also failed to remember that I’d basically have to pull an all-nighter to prepare for my classes tomorrow.
Me: Sorry. I had a last-minute table. I’ll let you in.
I hurried my steps out to the front of the restaurant and unlocked the door to an annoyed Belinda. “Thanks for the heads-up, Sofía.” She said my name like it was distasteful in her mouth. To say she and I weren’t close was an understatement. Belinda always seemed to think she was moving mountains with every action she did. Especially whenever it came to doing me a favor. I tried not to ask her for favors because there was always a price to pay for it.
“I’m sorry. I’m the only person on the floor, and I’ve been very busy.”
“Of course, you were because no one else in the world has responsibilities or works as hard as you do.” She gave a condescending tilt of her mouth and rolled her eyes. “I’m sure it never occurred to you that I have to get up early tomorrow and you know… work at a real job where every decision I make can affect people’s livelihood.”
“Sorry.” I glanced down at my hands giving my usual repentant look whenever Belinda needed to show exactly how important she was. In a way it definitely wasn’t a lie. Okay, not completely a lie. Her father, Roberto Corona, owned several luxury car dealerships in the area, and Belinda was fortunate enough for Daddy to groom her into the perfect heir apparent.
Normal people would have been receptive to an apology, but not my beloved sponsor sister. “You should be. You are so selfish and ungrateful sometimes.” She checked her perfectly manicured nails. “You should be thankful that my parents were generous enough to take in a stranger who they didn’t know; God knows where you came from. For all they knew, you could’ve been a drug smuggler or a child member of a gang plotting to rob an unsuspecting family who is only trying to do the right thing.”
My fingers curled into my palms. I’d lived with them since I was thirteen since the Corona family took me in when I’d left El Salvador. I knew I wasn’t their “family,” but I never once considered taking advantage of the situation. Not trying to complain, but I always had a sense their reasons for taking me in weren’t one hundred percent selfless. I’d heard her father behind closed doors in his office talking about how it was great publicity for him and a good tax write-off too.
“I have to check on my table.” I inhaled and pasted my server’s smile back in place smoothing my hair back. I glanced at Emilio and he was gazing at me with his arms folded appearing to be in deep thought.
“How was the food?” I swept my eyes around the table. All the food was gone.
“Disgusting.” Emilio leaned in pointing to all the empty plates. He had a playful smile on his face. Update—he was truly arresting when he smiled.
“Wow, Sofía, now I know the reason you didn’t tell me you were running late,” Belinda said behind me primping her black, glossy magazine-ad-worthy hair. She had the moxie and beauty to think any man would be captivated by her looks and the truth was they usually were. “I see you enjoyed your food.” What the hell? Was she going to take over my table and give them the check?
To my surprise, these men didn’t seem impressed. The conservative suit guy dabbed the corner of his mouth with his napkin and folded it nicely back on the table. “The food was excellent. Are you the manager?”
She giggled, a very calculated move she did when she liked to play coy. “Oh no. I’m not cut out for this business. I’m here to take her home because she doesn’t have a car. I’m kind of like her big sister, you know, I have to take care of her because she’s not the savviest person in the world.” I could feel steam rising up my neck making my face flush.
“Is there anything else I can get you?” I asked.
“Nah, I think we’re good.”
“I’ll be back with your check.”
Then, I remembered it was Emilio’s birthday, so I went back to the kitchen and pulled out a cake and cut a slice. I put it on a cake plate decorating it with a drizzle of chocolate syrup and stuck a candle in the middle.
I brought it out and walked toward his table.
“I couldn’t let you go without wishing you happy birthday.” I pulled out a lighter from my apron lighting the lone candle. Emilio’s dark eyes widened in a mixture of surprise and something else… fascination. The light from the candle illuminated his sharp cheekbones that were flushed.
I was about to walk away when he reached out and grabbed my hand and gently tugged me close. “Do it with me.”
“Do what?”
“Help me blow out the candle. It’s technically your birthday, now.” He clicked on his phone showing it was after midnight.
I should’ve been highly annoyed because it was so late, and I still had so much work to do. I should’ve been aggravated that Belinda was still hanging around probably plotting her next way to humiliate me in some way. I should’ve been very cautious of this man who I didn’t know from Adam who was holding my hand. But all I could think about was how he remembered my birthday and the warmth and reassurance I felt as he squeezed my hand.
“Happy birthday, angelita,” he said softly.
“Happy birthday.” We stared at each other; my smile reflected his.
“Are you gonna blow out the candles anytime soon or what?” the guy next to him asked with a bored expression on his face as though this was a movie he’d seen over and over.
“Shut up, Vince.” Emilio chided, his eyes never wavered from mine. “Make a wish.”
Emilio
“S’up, Adrian.” I had my cell cradled between my ear and shoulder as I rapidly pulsed the fire button on the remote of the Xbox.
“Primo, we still on for tonight?” Adrian and I usually met for drinks to decompress after a long week. “You need it. You know it.”
I maneuvered the remote, and my video hero threw a grenade and blew up the building where the enemies I was fighting were hiding. “Hell yeah!” My brother Yovani called out and tapped his controller to mine. He was a video game designer, and this was his latest project. He always wanted me to test out his games, and it was also bonding time.
“Emilio.” Annoyance was clearly detected in Adrian’s voice because homie thought when he spoke, everyone should be hanging on his every word.
“Sorry, primo, we’re testing out Yovani’s game. What were you saying?”
“I was calling to confirm that we were going out tonight.”
A simple “Hey we still hanging out” would’ve worked, but my cousin needed to have a confirmation. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Where are we going?”
“This place in the downtown area. You’ll like it. Like I said… you need it.”
Why the fuck did he keep saying that? Ever since Belinda and I called it off, Adrian’s been acting like I couldn’t function without his guidance. “Oookkkaay. You’re not trying to take me to some rub and tug massage parlor are you?” I glanced at my brother who chuckled and held out his fist that I bumped back. My cousin thought he was the pillar of society, and he was when he was on the clock. However, sometimes his ideas on after-hours fun were a little more… let’s just say creative. “And I’m all right, Adrian.”
“Just looking out for you. I’ll be there in an hour. Is Yovani going?”
I nodded to my younger brother. “You wanna hang out with us tonight?”
Yovani shrugged casually looking so much like my older brother Vince but without the pe
rpetual scowl on his face. If Yovani’s demeanor were any more chill, you would think he was a chronic stoner. But he wasn’t. Well, not entirely. He was just naturally fuckin’ chill. “Yeah, bro.”
“He’s in.”
“Great. I’ll be there in an hour.”
“Got it.” I clicked off my cell and continued firing a spray of bullets.
“Really, primo? A strip club?” Not that I was complaining, but this seemed a little unoriginal for my cousin. I was expecting something a little more innovative from him. Not that I needed some freakish shit, and Yovani was with us. He really hadn’t hung out that much with Adrian and me. Yeah, we did family gatherings and dinner, but not really going out with us. So, maybe a strip club was a good place to start. Yovani was twenty-five, two years younger than me.
“I brought you here, Emilio, because this is a prime location. Look at this area.” Adrian spread his arms wide. “This is phase two in the downtown renovations.” The commercial spot appeared rundown. When I looked to the right across the street, I saw another block of buildings that were new, modern, and obviously thriving. People were lined outside the buildings.
“This area has been resuscitated,” Adrian said as if I didn’t already know. We worked together. Vince and I were business partners, buying up small businesses and commercial properties. My brother and I had saved our money and had an investor who helped us acquire a self-serve car wash. We’d always talked about starting a small business and were fortunate it came together. We worked our asses off to make it happen. Then, our cousin joined us. Adrian was the “one” in the family who had the cyborg-like intelligence and made his way through school on full scholarships to a tier-one college and majored in commercial law. After he graduated, there was never a doubt he would be a part of this, and we needed his guidance. And his guidance he gave because he was a long-winded motherfucker who was happy to share his knowledge… about anything.
“So what are we here for? You gonna buy me a lap dance?” I joked because I had no interest in a lap dance. I wasn’t an overzealous teen who needed someone to rub up against me to get off. I didn’t need to pay for bodily affection. I wasn’t being an asshole when I said it. I loved women. If I could’ve majored in women in school, maybe I would’ve been more interested in my studies. I was all for empowerment because I grew up with a single mom who did what she could to make ends meet. I guess I wasn’t on board with the whole fabricated thing about this. Not that anything was wrong with a woman stripping. Who the hell was I to judge how someone made a living? God knew I was the last person to be judgmental.