Another shake.
Carlos leans away from Alex and crosses his arms on his chest. “Then you’re goin’ through with it. I didn’t get leave and fly all the way to Chicago for you to call it off, Alex. And besides, you love the gringa and promised you’d marry her after you both graduated college. This is a done deal. No backin’ out now.”
“What’d you do, Alex?” I ask, completely confused now.
He sighs heavily. “I haven’t told her the news that at the end of the summer we’re movin’ back to Chicago.”
Our entire family has lived in Colorado for almost three years. Moving back here isn’t gonna fly with Brittany. “What do you mean, you’re movin’ back to Chicago?”
“It’s a long story. Brit’s parents are handin’ over custody of her sister, Shelley, to the state of Illinois. She’s twenty-one and can go on state fundin’ for her care. That means she’ll be pulled from Sunny Acres and moved back here. Brit doesn’t know yet. She also doesn’t know I got into Northwestern for grad school. I accepted.”
“And you didn’t tell her any of it?” Carlos asks. “Oh, man, you are screwed.”
Alex rubs the back of his neck and winces. “I kinda never even told her I applied to Northwestern. She thinks we’re stayin’ in Boulder after the weddin’.”
I know full well my brother’s soon-to-be wife doesn’t want to come back to Illinois. I’ve heard her talk about her fear of coming back to the place where Alex got shot, and beat up within an inch of his life to get jumped out of the Latino Blood. He’s told her it’s safe now, since the gang broke off into different factions and the new head of the gang, Chuy Soto, is in jail. We’ve all assured Brittany that Alex doesn’t have a target on his back, but she’s skeptical.
I know it took a lot for Alex to convince Brittany to have their wedding back here. I think she agreed for the sole reason that she hoped her parents would attend the ceremony—despite their hatred of my brother.
They hate him because he’s Mexican.
And he’s poor.
And he was in a gang.
He’s still batting two out of three, which makes him an unacceptable match for their daughter. She comes from a rich, white, and stuck-up family. I have to give Mr. Ellis, her dad, some credit. He did try to get to know Alex. A while back when he came for a visit to Boulder, he invited Alex to play golf. That was a bad idea. My brother is not the golfing type. One look at his old gang tattoos should’ve been a clue.
Brittany’s parents haven’t shown up. Not yet, at least. Brittany hopes to have her parents at her side when she walks down the aisle, but plan B is to walk down with Carlos’s girlfriend’s dad, Dr. Westford. Either way, my brother will be waiting for her at the end of the aisle.
Alex shrugs into his black tuxedo jacket and heads for the door. “Just promise me one thing. If she kicks me out of our room tonight, let me sleep in one of yours.”
“Sorry, bro,” Carlos says. “I’ve been away from Kiara for nine months. I ain’t sharin’ my hotel room with anyone but her. Besides, your virgin bride’ll want to consummate the marriage.”
Alex rolls his eyes. I’m pretty sure they consummated their relationship years ago. I’m also pretty sure Carlos knows that fact.
“You’ve got to tell her,” I say. “Before the weddin’.”
“There’s no time,” Carlos chimes in, totally amused. “Nice to start your marriage with lies and deceit. You’re a stellar role model, bro.” He pats Alex’s back.
“Cállate, Carlos. I’ll tell her.”
“Before the ceremony, or after?” I ask.
From the open windows, harp music starts flowing into the room.
The three of us look at one another.
We know our family will never be the same.
“Well, guys, this is it,” Alex says as he opens the door. He stops suddenly and bows his head. He squeezes his eyes shut. “I wish Paco were here,” he mumbles.
Paco was Alex’s best friend. He died when he and Alex were seniors in high school. My brother has never gotten over it.
“Me too,” I say, crossing myself as I think of the one guy who we treated like an honorary Fuentes.
“Yeah,” Carlos says. “But he’s here. You know he’s watchin’.”
Alex nods, then straightens. If it weren’t for Paco, Alex wouldn’t be here. He’d be in a coffin, too.
My brothers aren’t aware that I know how Paco died. Hector Martinez, the head of the Latino Blood, shot Paco. Hector also killed my father, and even shot Alex. Hector was the enemy. My life would have been very different if the enemy weren’t dead, because I would have dedicated my life to getting revenge.
I was eleven when I found out who shot Papá when Alex was six years old and mi’amá was pregnant with me. I held back the urge for revenge, but I felt it like a fire slowly burning inside me until Hector’s death years ago made my family safe.
Just the thought of Hector Martinez can get me riled up. I take a deep breath and follow Alex and Carlos to the processional. We stand near the priest with the rest of the wedding party, and for the moment I forget about the past.
“Alex, you got the arras?” Carlos asks him.
The arras are the thirteen gold coins he’ll give Brittany as a symbol of his trust and confidence in her. They’ve been passed down from my grandparents to my parents, which is a good thing, ’cause there’s no way my brother would be able to afford the coins otherwise. They’re not having a traditional Mexican wedding since Brittany isn’t Mexicana, but they’ve put some Mexican traditions in the ceremony.
Alex pats his pockets. “Shit. I left the arras in the room.”
“I’ll go get ’em,” I say, then head back to the makeshift dressing room.
“Hurry,” I hear Carlos and Alex call out behind me.
I swing open the door to the dressing room and find I’m not alone. A girl about my age is in the room, looking out the window. Her white dress contrasts with her honey-colored skin, and just the sight of her makes me stop in my tracks. She’s smokin’ hot, with dark wavy hair running down her back and a face that reminds me of an angel. She’s obviously a guest at the wedding, but I’ve never met her before. I’d definitely remember her if I had.
I flash her a smile. “¡Hola! Yo soy Luis. ¿Quieres charlar conmigo?”
She doesn’t say anything.
I point to the door. “Umm … la boda va a empezar,” I tell her, but it’s clear by the way she rolls her eyes that she doesn’t really care.
“Dude, speak English,” she says. “This isn’t Mexico.”
Whoa. Chica with an attitude in the house. “Sorry,” I say. “Thought you might be Mexican.”
“I’m American,” she says, then holds up a blinged-out cell phone and waves it in the air. “And I’m on the phone. It’s a private conversation. Do you mind?”
The side of my mouth quirks up. She might claim she’s a full-blooded American, but I’d bet my left nut she’s got some Mexican blood running through her feisty veins.
I pick up the arras and give her a smile. “Save a dance at the reception for me, mi chava.”
She hangs up with whoever she was talking with and sneers at me. “Ugh, you’re one of those guys who flirt and smile to get with a girl, then they dump that poor girl on their ass when they least expect it.”
“Oh, so you’ve heard about me,” I say, then wink at her. She starts to walk out of the room in a huff, but I reach out to stop her. “I was just kiddin’. Don’t take life too seriously, mi chava.”
The angel gets in my face. She does it to intimidate me, but all it does is fire me up. “How dare you tell me not to take life too seriously! You don’t even know me.”
I don’t usually mess around with girls with attitude. I’ve been around enough of ’em to know that muy creídas are more trouble than they’re worth. They’ve always intrigued me, though. I can’t help it. I think it’s in the Fuentes blood to mess around with girls who most definitely don’t want to get messed
with.
“Luis, you’re holding up the ceremony,” mi'amá calls loudly from the hall. She walks into the room, then raises an eyebrow at the sight of me standing close enough to the angel that if I bent forward the slightest bit I’d be kissing her. “What’s going on in here?” she demands, as if we were about to get it on and she got here just in time to break it up.
“Yeah, what’s goin’ on?” I ask the girl, deliberately putting her on the spot.
The girl holds up the cell. “I was in the middle of a call when he came in here and started to hit on me.”
“That’s my son. And you are …” Mamá says, her eyes narrowed into slits. Oh, man. She’s in interrogation mode. You don’t want to meet mi'amá when she’s got her mind set on getting information out of you.
“Nikki Cruz,” the girl says with pride. “My dad was Alex’s surgeon.”
Not Mexican, my ass. I was right. This angel has more than a little red, white, and green blood running through her veins. Dr. Cruz was the one who took the bullet out of Alex’s shoulder at the hospital when he got shot years ago. The doctor has been in contact with Alex ever since, keeping tabs on him.
Mamá nods, then scans Nikki Cruz—the surgeon’s daughter—from head to toe. “The wedding is about to start. Ándale, Luis.”
Before I turn around and walk out of the room, I give Nikki a completely arrogant and secret wink/nod that’s sure to once again bring out that Latina attitude in full force.
She flips me off. She doesn’t do it to amuse me, but it does.
I can’t wait for the reception. Like my two older brothers, I don’t ever back down from a challenge, and Nikki Cruz is definitely not one that will surrender easily. By the end of the night I bet I could convince her to be my next girlfriend—well, at least until my flight back home to Colorado.
6
Nikki
I watch as Luis follows his mom out of the room with his arrogant head held high. I was about to hang up with Kendall when he popped into the room and I froze. For a brief second I thought he was Marco. They’re both about the same height, age, and physique.
When Luis smiled at me and I felt a flicker of attraction, panic swelled inside me. I can’t let my guard down, and a guy like Luis is as dangerous as Marco. I can tell by that smile. He looks innocent enough, but I know better. He might be able to fool other girls, but not me.
It’s been two weeks since Marco and I broke up, and the pain is still as raw as it was when he left me on the beach. I never want to feel as desperate and devastated as I did that night. If hatred and bitchiness will protect me, I’ll use it.
I hold my head high as I walk back to the ceremony. The music starts, and I quickly grab the empty seat between my mom and my younger brother, Ben. Ben is slouched down in his chair, annoyed that Mom and Dad didn’t let him play his handheld video game player. He has to sit here like all the other bored twelve-year-old boys at this wedding.
My parents and Ben have no clue Marco and I broke up. I didn’t want to talk about it. I also didn’t want my parents to gloat and say We told you so. Ben wouldn’t care since he hardly said two words to Marco the entire time we were dating.
If my parents had it their way they’d probably want to set up an arranged marriage for me, because they want me with a nice boy who comes from a “good background.” The last thing I want is my parents picking out my boyfriends or, heaven forbid, my future husband.
Ben hasn’t had a girlfriend yet. He’s been spared any parental input on his love life, because his love life is nonexistent—unless you count Princess Amotoka from the online game he plays. Needless to say, she’s not real.
My eyes wander to the front, where Luis is standing next to the rest of the groomsmen. When our eyes meet for a split second, he winks while flashing me a killer smile. I look down, pretending to suddenly be very interested in a stray thread on the bottom of my dress. I feel nauseous.
Right behind me I hear a girl whisper loudly, “Omigod! Do you see that hottie with the spiked hair? Omigod, who is he?”
If she says Omigod again, I’m turning around and slapping her.
“It’s Alex’s brother Luis,” someone explains to the Omigod girl.
“I think he just winked at me,” I hear her squeal.
I don’t mention that I have a good idea that his wink was meant for me. I force myself to ignore him and focus on the bride and groom. I just wish I wouldn’t find it so hard not to stare at Luis, for the sole reason that I’m doing my best not to stare at him. I hate that.
The ceremony is just like every other beach wedding ceremony at twilight while the sun is going down. Okay, I admit the whole setting is super cool, but the beach has a negative vibe to me right now. I thought it was my special place with Marco, but it’s not. Being here, staring at Lake Michigan in the background, only reminds me of our breakup.
The bride, Brittany, is about to walk down the aisle, but she hesitates and glances anxiously at the entrance before taking the arm of an older man about to escort her.
“Poor girl. Her parents didn’t show,” my mom whispers to me.
“Why not?” I ask.
Mom shrugs. “I’m not sure. I just overheard some of her bridesmaids talking about it before the ceremony started.”
Brittany walks down the aisle and looks like she came right out of the pages of a designer bride magazine. The groom, Alex, can’t take his eyes off her.
As soon as the priest opens his prayer book to start the ceremony, I can’t help but glance at Luis. He’s listening intently to the priest and suddenly has a serious, worried look on his face. I wonder why, until …
“You can’t get married,” Luis chimes in loudly.
More than a few gasps come from the crowd. Every guest is in shock.
This is getting good.
Alex slaps his hand over his eyes. “You didn’t,” he says to Luis.
Luis steps forward. “I just … Alex, tell her. You can’t start your marriage on a lie.”
Brittany, whose mouth has been wide open ever since Luis spoke up, lifts her veil and furrows her perfectly plucked eyebrows.
“Tell me what?” She’s turning whiter than her wedding dress, if that’s even possible. I hope the priest or maid of honor, who looks like she wants to murder Alex, is ready to catch her if she passes out.
“Nothin’,” Alex says. “We’ll talk later, chica. It’s not a big deal.”
“Don’t chica me, Alex,” his bride snaps.
“I think she’s gonna deck him,” Ben murmurs, amused.
The bride isn’t buying it. Maybe they’re about to come to the realization that happily-ever-after doesn’t exist. “It’s a big-enough deal for your brother to stop our wedding,” Brittany argues.
“This is ridiculous,” Alex growls. He mumbles something to the best man, who seems more amused than shocked.
I feel a sisterhood bond with Brittany, even if she’s not aware of it.
Alex’s mom, sitting in the front row, has her head bent as if she’s watching an ant on the ground and it’s the most interesting thing she’s ever seen. I think I just saw her crossing herself. When she looks up again, she’s got daggers in her eyes as she glares at Alex and Luis.
With nowhere to run except through the crowd or escape into the Lake Michigan water, Alex says, “We’re movin’ back here.”
Brittany blinks a few times. She cocks her head to the side as if she didn’t hear him right. “Here? As in Chicago?”
All I can think is, Oh, Alex, you’re clueless. Looking around at the other guests watching this drama unfold, I notice a couple of girls two rows in front of me not too upset by the chain of events unfolding before our eyes. I think they’ve got the hots for Alex, and won’t be disappointed if he’s suddenly single. I’m sure the Omigod girl is available behind me, although Alex is probably too old for her.
Brittany backs away from Alex. “And you didn’t tell me because …”
“Because you were busy plannin’ this we
ddin’, and studyin’ for finals, and, to be honest, I didn’t want you to start freakin’ out.”
“So my opinion doesn’t matter? What about my sister?” Brittany points to the girl in the wheelchair next to the maid of honor. “I’m not leaving her in Colorado.”
“Would you two like to take a break and discuss this privately?” the befuddled priest asks.
“No,” Brittany snaps. “I don’t want to go anywhere with him.”
“It’s your wedding,” the priest reminds her. “Umm …” He looks at his Bible, as if that has the answers to help the couple mend their problems.
“Let’s just get married and discuss this later,” Alex tells her. “You’ll agree once you hear me out.”
“We’re supposed to be a team and make decisions together, Alex. Lying is a deal-breaker.”
Yes! She’s finally getting it. He lied. Boys always lie. I want to scream Break it off with him while you have the chance! but I restrain myself.
“I didn’t lie, chica. I just delayed mentionin’ it for a little while. This is not a deal-breaker.”
She crosses her arms on her chest. “Maybe it is for me.”
“Marry me, Brittany, ’cause you know it’s gonna happen anyway. Shelley will be with us, I promise. This is all about keepin’ us together.”
He closes the distance between them. Without another word, he pulls her to him and kisses her with lips, a peek of tongue, and … I think I hear some breathless sighs coming from the guests. Nobody can take their eyes off that sensual kiss full of passion.
Don’t fall for it! I want to scream, but I can tell it’s no use. Her bridal bouquet falls to the ground as she wraps her arms around his neck.
I glance at the girl behind me. The Omigod girl is all dreamy-eyed as she watches the make-out session. All the girls are looking like that. I can just imagine their minds racing, wondering if they’ll have as much chemistry with their boyfriends/husbands one day. With that thought, I glance at Luis again.
He’s looking right at me, and a shock wave runs through me. So what if we have chemistry. Chemistry doesn’t miraculously turn bad boys into good ones.
“I’m mad at you for keeping something important from me,” Brittany says to Alex, although her conviction has definitely been compromised after that kiss.
Simone Elkeles - [Perfect Chemistry 03] Page 3