by Sand, A. J.
“That’s a shame,” Ramón says, looking sincerely disappointed. “Well, I suppose it has been quite an eventful night for you. But before you go…” He motions for Carlos to come over. “Shake, you two,” he demands of us, and he stands there as we take each other’s hand. Ramón turns and heads for the stairs, with Gabe trailing a few steps behind him.
Once they disappear into the shadows again, Carlos crushes my hand until I’m cringing. He jerks me closer to him, a gleam of hatred darkening his eyes. He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t need to. I know exactly what he’s thinking.
It’s not over.
****
The three of us get the fuck out of there right away.
But it’s too beautiful of a night to just head back to our hotel. After everything, we’re wired and drained at the same time, so we cruise around until we end up at a colonial-style boutique hotel’s rooftop bar, near a quiet plaza and stately homes. It’s much more low-key here. There are white couches, well-dressed people are sipping cocktails with clever names, and the music sounds like wind chimes.
We spot an empty bar table near the railing with three stools available, and people stare at us as we walk across the terrace. I cleaned up in the car, but I’m sure I still look like I was in a fight earlier, especially because one side of my face has swollen to a third of its size. Drew chooses the stool furthest from me but doesn’t even sit. She’s wearing a pensive expression, her brow puckering as she twirls the ends of her hair.
“I’m going to try to reach Buck. See if he’s awake,” she says after a yawn.
“If you’re tired, we can go back,” I offer.
She stares out into the lit city. On a clear night like this, the expanse of perennially illuminated Mexico City is stunning. “I’m fine,” she explains, and she won’t even look at me. “We can leave whenever you guys are ready. But don’t feel rushed, okay?” Before she walks away, she adds, “You mind if I crash with you in your room tonight, Mig?”
Fuck. That hurts like daggers and I clench my teeth. I guess our moment of temptation—our huge lapse in judgment—has passed, and maybe it’s for the best. Miguel looks at me, and I give him an approving nod.
“Sure, Drew-Drew.” She smiles at him before she walks into the inside half of the bar. I want to go after her but when I see her through the window, she’s already on the phone, pacing. Each time she turns, I catch the smile on her face, and jealousy is like teeth on my heart.
“Do you mind if I have a drink?” Miguel asks me as he signals a perky waitress flitting between tables.
“Go for it. I’ll drive us back. I’m done for the night,” I reply, so he orders a beer when she comes over, and she’s back with a frosty bottle in hand a few minutes later. “Thanks for having my back tonight.”
“Anything for my Drew-Drew. So, how the hell do you know Ramón Vega?”
“We met a long time ago. In Glory. He came to my fight with a guy named Francisco Acevedo,” I explain.
Miguel spits his beer across the table. “You met Francisco Acevedo? Like the Francisco Acevedo, the drug lord and founder of El Sindicato?”
“I didn’t know who he was at that time. He was looking for fighters stateside.” I sigh, shaking my head. “Man, it’s been a weird ass night. Did I really almost get killed by Carlos Garcia?”
“Yup. Cocodrilo.” Miguel pumps his fists in the air. “The most famous fighter in Mexico City, maybe in all of Mexico.”
“You really think Arturo would’ve gotten a lot of money if he had won?”
“I know he would’ve. Anyone who beats him would. Prize money is based on how many people they expect to show up, and the number of bets and how big they are. The numbers are always big with Carlos. I’ve never heard of anyone taking in less than ten thousand.”
“I want to fight him,” I blurt out. What if I could get more based on what happened tonight? Like fifteen to twenty thousand? Just thinking the amount makes my hands itch. “I mean for real. Cage. Real crowd. The whole shebang.”
“That’s crazy.” But there’s no punch behind his words—no pun intended—and I sense that my idea is perking up his interest.
“Wouldn’t be the first time you called something I did crazy.”
He flinches and his face turns bright red. “Yeah.” Miguel laughs through his embarrassment. “What was that after the fight in Guadalajara? You have a condition or what?”
I shrug, feeling a little embarrassed, too. “I guess. It’s, like, an anxiety attack or something. I don’t know. I never got diagnosed. I don’t like doctors.”
Miguel nods. “I have something, too. Lupus. Like ten years ago, I started losing weight for no reason, and my hands and elbows and knees were hurting all the time. The joints. Doctor said it was lupus. Kept me out of the cage, though, because Lord knows I wanted to be in there. The way they were screaming for you, I just want to know what that’s like. Just once.” His lips spread in a wistful smile. “Oh well, I guess it’s a blessing in a way. Maybe I would have ended up like my dad, and then my mom would’ve buried another son. Thank God for Eddie!” He beams when he mentions his little brother. “He’s in high school and wants to be an archaeologist someday and dig up, uh, Pre-Columbian artifacts or something like that. He hates the sight of blood. He got an internship in Egypt, so I’m saving money so he can go without worrying about us and just enjoy himself. Before him, Mamá probably thought she was cursed. He’s her best. Definitely her best.” He tips his beer to his lips. “So, does your mom know you do this?”
“I buried her. She’s dead. She passed away a few years ago.”
“Oh.” His unspoken condolence is plain in his solemn expression. “And your dad?”
“I want to bury him,” I joke. “We aren’t really close. We never were.” My orphan bomb detonates and as usual, it leaves uncomfortable silence in its wake, so I add, “I have a little brother, too. A half brother. He’s the only reason I’m here. Our dad got himself caught up with the wrong people—Ramón and Acevedo, I think—and now both his sons are paying for it.”
Miguel’s eyes stretch. I’ve surprised him, but our commonality probably just shaped our friendship. He finally smiles, shakes his head, and drops his hand on my shoulder. “The shit we do for our little brothers, huh?”
Smiling too, I say, “Yeah,” as I stare out at the sleek buildings rising up from the sprawling metropolis and glimmering gold.
“What do you think of Mexico so far? Believe it or not, it’s not all spring break, cartels, drugs, and fighting. The international news probably only covers the mayhem.”
“We’ve got our fair share, too. From what I’ve seen, this place is just as eclectic as America. How often do you cross the border?”
Miguel shakes his head. “Not often. Mamá wants me to go live in the States and take Eddie, to make a better life for myself, she says.” He scoffs before he downs the rest of his beer. “Why can’t I make a good life here? I have everything I need. I’m happy. You guys want to put up a fence to keep me out, but you’re really keeping me in.” He laughs and looks down over the railing. “I love this country. I love my home. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You sound like Drew.”
“Drew…” Miguel glances at me with a mischievous smile. “You two are…? I have wanted to ask.”
“Together?” I shake my head fiercely. “No. No. Not at all. She’s still with Buck Webber.”
“But…she’s here? With you?”
“As a friend.”
Miguel bursts out laughing. “Now you are definitely crazy.”
THINGS YOU DO FOR FAMILY
Someone’s banging on the hotel room door, and I wonder if I forgot to hang the “Do Not Disturb” sign. I turn off the shower, wrap a towel around myself, and stroll out of the bathroom. The sign isn’t dangling on the inside doorknob, though. “Hold on a sec,” I call out, jumping into my boxers and rewrapping the towel.
“It’s me, Jess,” Drew yells back. When I open the door, her gaze immediately slides do
wn my wet bare chest, and a million butterflies flutter around in my stomach. She slips past me and walks to where her bag is, on the bed she didn’t sleep in. She’s still in last night’s clothes and her makeup is smeared all over her face, because she didn’t even bother to come in here once we got back from the rooftop bar. I wish she had. This morning I don’t have a clearer head…because my head was never unclear. I know for sure now that last night my choices were not made under a fog of alcohol or momentary intense emotions. I wanted to kiss Drew. I want to fuck Drew now.
I shove the thought away before too much desire builds, and I welcome the residual guilt. At least that’s there, too. “Miguel leave already?” I ask, walking over to her side.
She tenses at my nearness as she takes out what she plans to wear for the day and sets it on the bed. “Yeah. Long drive back. He says he’ll be in touch…or Sandrine will.”
“Can we talk about last night?”
“I want to take a shower.” Drew’s face will always betray her no matter what comes out of her mouth, and there’s a lot of unease in her expression when she stands upright.
“Okay, fine. Go shower. Do you need me to watch your cell phone, in case your boyfriend, Ramón, calls?”
She bursts into laughter as she drops her hands on her hips, turning completely to face me. “Ramón Vega is not interested in me, Jess…he’s gay.”
“Share with me the wonders of gaydar,” I say sarcastically.
“I’m just observant. Did you see the guy who walked up to us? Gabe? Did you see his hands?” The warm pads of her fingers shimmy up my abs and curve around my oblique muscles, skimming the edge of the towel. As she slides her hands up my back, her body presses against mine, and I clench my fists until my nails are cutting into my palms. Heat generates between us, we are locked in our stares, and all I want to do is throw her onto the bed. “He was touching him like this. It was intimacy.” She pulls her hands away, ending the demonstration, but I’m turned on, and so glad she steps back because I am hard as fuck under the towel now. “Would you be okay with one of your bros touching you like that if you weren’t into it?”
“Hell fucking no.” I’m okay with you touching me like that, though.
“So, it’s not gaydar. I just happen to know what a man looks like and what he does when he wants someone…” Drew grabs her clothes and heads for the bathroom just as my phone rings. It’s my father, requesting a video call. Last night I sent him a text to tell him that I have earned some money and want to send it to him.
“Henry?” I say as his face appears, and I gasp. “What the hell happened to you?” I take in his swollen black eye and the lacerations on his cheeks.
He tries to smile but I can tell it hurts. “Business meeting. Nothing you should worry about. I paid back some of the money, but they did this as an incentive for me to keep paying.”
“Shit. You saw my text, right? I’m preparing to send you some money soon. Henry, is it Ramón Vega and Francisco Acevedo you borrowed from? And is this really a fight gambling debt? I’ll still help you because of HJ, but I need to know the truth.” I Googled “nightclub owner” Ramón Vega this morning to see what else he’s burying his cartel lifestyle under. Apparently, Mr. Vega is quite the nightlife entrepreneur, with clubs all across Mexico and a few in Central America, and I bet that’s how he operates his real business. But I have to admit that it’s ingenious how web searches bring up all his charitable donations and the jobs he has provided in his clubs.
“Who said my name? Is that him, Dad?” The phone’s movements disorient me for a second, and then there are small, curious brown eyes behind a pair of glasses and a burst of black hair on the screen. My little brother. Suddenly I’m first date nervous and my fucking heart is imploding. We don’t know each other at all, but I feel so connected to him. I love him so much already, and I don’t even know when it happened. Maybe it has always been there.
“So you’re really my brother?” HJ says, studying me with wide eyes.
When I spoke to him before, I didn’t think it was my place to explain our relationship, but I guess one of his parents did. “Yeah. I am,” I say, finally finding my voice. I smile big and wonder if I’ll ever stop.
“Oh…I only have sisters.”
“Not anymore.”
“Yeah.” He nods with a little giggle. “Cool. I always wanted a brother. My friend, Martin, has a big brother, and they do everything together. Sometimes he even picks him up from school.”
“If we lived in the same place I’d pick you up from school, if that’s what you wanted.”
HJ nods before his brow furrows. “How come we don’t have the same mom?”
“It’s complicated…” I say, trailing off into laughter.
“Grownups always say stuff like that.” He scrunches his nose in annoyance.
“Hey, wait! But that doesn’t mean I won’t tell you someday. I’m not like all grownups.” Oh shit, I’m really trying to impress a kid.
“Okay. I like talking to you, Jesse.” He smiles again and I choke on the pieces of my heart that survived the earlier implosion. “Where’s your mom, anyway?”
“She passed away. She died.”
“Oh…” He frowns and even that’s sweet. “Well, my mom’s really nice. Maybe she can be yours, too.”
“Maybe.” Wishful thinking, kid.
“Do you like baseball?” he asks.
“I love baseball.”
“Really?” He beams and the edges of me are cracking with happiness. It’s not maniacs in cages punching me in the face who will destroy me; it’s a ten-year-old. Jesus Fucking Christ. “I play!” he announces with pride. “Maybe you can come to one of my games.” HJ looks away from the screen. “Can he, Dad? Please? Can he come to my games?” He hands the phone off to Henry, and a surprisingly large dose of disappointment rocks me.
“Sure thing, buddy,” Henry says. “Sorry, I thought he was still out grocery shopping with his mom. He came running into the room.”
“He’s back in Glory? Are you sure it’s safe?”
“It’s just for a few days.”
“Henry, it’s not Ramón Vega and Acevedo you owe, right?” I ask again. “And this isn’t a gambling debt for fights? You can swear that to me?”
He sighs, hurt cutting across his face at my lack of trust. “If that’s what it takes, I’ll swear, because it’s the truth. This isn’t about gambling. It was my stupid good intention to do the right thing.”
“What about Alejandra? Is she part of the stupid good intention?”
Henry clenches his jaw. “I can’t talk about it in detail right now, but she told me you two met. She’s…yes. She’s someone I got to know, if you know what I mean, while I was looking for investors. She did give me money. She’s one of the people I paid back with the borrowed money…but she’s having some trouble letting go of the personal relationship.”
“Well, if you only slept with her to get the money, I get why she’s mad…”
“I know you don’t believe me, but that’s not how it happened. I screwed up, Jesse. I know that. I have a lot to repent for. I’m just trying to get to a place where I can start making up for my wrongs. Look, I think every day about what I’ve asked of you, and I know it’s so much, but you were always a star in the ring. Way better than me. What you do up there, you were always so good at that. You can do this. I have nothing but faith in you, in helping me keep HJ safe. And I’m so damn proud of you.”
“Yeah,” I say, as if the words just brush over me, but in reality I’m absorbing them, and they make me feel heavy, like I’m sinking down into wet concrete. “I’ll be in touch about the money.” I sigh and hang up.
Drew is dressed—light-colored jeans and a black tank top—and staring at me from the bathroom’s doorway. “You should’ve seen your face when HJ was on,” she says as she walks to me. “He’s such a sweet kid. He walked me home from the library one day to make sure I got there okay, because a kid at Glory Elementary had gotten beat
up by middle school bullies. I really almost died from the cuteness.”
When I don’t respond, she pulls me in to her, locks her arms around me low on the waist, and presses her face to my neck. “You okay?”
I rest my chin on her head. “I don’t know. It’s weird. I’ve gotten so used to choosing people who I can consider family that I forgot what it was like to actually just have one. And he’s really all I have.” My chest tightens with emotions that shatter into a burn in my throat. “What if I fail and something happens to him? What if I lose him…like Mom?”
“You won’t…” Drew looks up and cups my face in both hands.
“How can you be sure? Fuck. I have to do everything I can to protect him.” Even if this means more fights and bigger fights, as quickly and as often as my body can handle it. Regardless of whether my mind can.
“And you’ll do that. You’ll protect him…just like you did for me last night. I hate the fighting, but I’m glad you were there. My hero.”
“You’re pretty good at being your own hero, Drew Hallisay. And mine.”
After a beat of complete silence, she sighs, and her breath blows across my lips. In the instant, I’m keenly aware of how close our mouths are, and I’m remembering our kiss at Las Sirenas. I shiver when her fingers land where the towel rests on my hips, and my hands curve over her ass. With a sharp inhale, her chest expands and her lips part just slightly. I lean in, enough for me to trace the outline of her lips with my tongue if I wanted to. And I’d be a liar right now if I say I’m not tempted to try.
A liar…and a cheater.
I kiss her forehead. Cheater. I grip her waist and my lips hit the corner of her mouth. Then we’re kissing, again without any reservation, maybe worse than last night. Alcohol brings out the truth but sobriety is still reality. And right here, in this moment, I can’t convince myself to stop. Drew puts her hands on top of mine, pushing them to the button of her jeans. She yanks my towel off and watches me undo her button and pull her jeans down her legs.
“What are we doing?” she asks in a sigh. Cheating. We’re cheating, Drew.