She gathered a deep, slow breath and reached around to trace long lines from Frank’s nape to the space between his shoulder blades. “Frank...remember what we talked about? Anger isn’t going to reverse what happened. It ain’t gonna un-shoot your mama.” She practically cooed at him. Even I was relaxing. “Now, Kayla says she doesn’t know who shot Gina, and we all believe her, right?” Slowly, Frank nodded, and Jill continued. “But she knows things that may help. She brought us all here to tell us, and she will. Just let the girl relax and do it. This is hard for her.”
I gulped. Tears burned behind my eyes. Oh god, I didn’t deserve so much patience.
Frank also relaxed, and Jack mumbled, “I’ll let that slide...this time.”
Thankfully, Miguel returned with a tray carrying my food and his just in time to distract us all from the past few minutes.
In front of his seat, he sat a giant torta that looked like it could feed a horse. Then, with an adorable flourish, he bowed and presented the rest of the items on the tray to me. The smell...oh god, the smell was so good it could have made me come. He grabbed a plate of grilled carne asada, garnished with fresh lime, cilantro, and a little red onion.
Jill cursed loudly. “That shit is still mooing, muthafucka! Are you trying to give my girl salmonella?”
Miguel didn’t look her way, he was too busy relishing in the adoration on my face— for what was on the plate, of course— but he still addressed her. “First, chica, salmonella comes from poultry. E coli can come from beef, but not my beef. I take pride in extensive cleanliness behind my counter. Second, some folks taste buds appreciate the fineness of a rare-cooked piece of meat. Clearly, my mami is not complaining.”
I wasn’t. I had already begun digging in and vocalizing my pleasure like I was the diner chick in that one movie. Jack inched his chair away, apparently embarrassed. I didn’t give two flying, trapeze artist fucks.
“And for the piece of the resistance...” He placed a styrofoam cup in front of me.
“What’s this?” I asked, puzzled because it didn’t quite smell like a drink. I pulled at the edge of the lid—
“Uh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you!” Miguel looked nervous, but quickly recovered. “You wouldn’t want to make all these losers over here jealous that I didn’t bring them anything.”
Jack spoke up, “Man, that ain’t happening. I’d hope you weren’t stupid enough to poison her in front of a cop, but that’s what it looks like.” Miguel gasped and covered his heart with his hand in dramatic fashion.
I took a small sip of the concoction, then smiled wildly at Miguel before taking bigger, hungrier gulps, collapsing the plastic straw every time that I did. “Oh my,” I sighed when I’d finally taken a breath. “What’s in this?”
“It’s basically jamaica with a touch of tamarind,” he looked at the others around the table, “with a little extra something I know you’d really like.”
“Bitch, don’t drink that.” Jill tried to swipe at the cup, but I played keep away well. “He jizzed in that cup, and you know it.”
It wasn’t jizz. I’d tasted it the night that I fell face first on Grey Eyes. I didn’t know how Miguel knew, but he was feeding me raw meat and a smoothie made of blood. I was this close to offering to bear at least twelve of his children.
#SquadGoals, Part II
The table we sat at was clear from all remnants of lunch. Everyone had demolished the tacos, and I’d eaten every last piece of the carne asada that Miguel made me, minus the condiments, of course, because, let’s face it, I was done pretending I cared about anything other than the meat.
I sipped on the blood smoothie, glad that he’d added tamarind to cover the smell, and readied myself to do some talking. The time for stalling was over. Luckily, my lunch had given me energy and a bit of courage since I felt so much better than before. I’d have to ask Miguel later what he knew, though. It seemed to be a lot more than even I did, and that bothered me.
Every single one of my friends stared at me from their spots around the table. I closed my eyes. Okay, this is it.
When I opened my eyes, I focused first on Jill—one-time frenemy, now best friend and rock. “Remember when you asked me in the hospital parking lot if you really knew me, and I said no?” She nodded. “I meant it. None of you know who I really am. My name’s not even Kayla Smith.”
Four sets of eyes widened around me. Frank shook his head. “Naw, I’ve seen your employee file when Mama made me do auditing. We’ve got your ID, Social Security Card, and your Birth Certificate.”
I trembled reflexively to the extent of the lie. “The government can fake all of that easily. Specifically, the Marshall’s office. In Phoenix, I was Kim Jones. In Nashville, I was Candace Williams. Here, I’m Kayla Smith. Three names over the past year.”
Jack practically bounced in his seat. “You’re in Witness Protection! I’ve always wanted to meet someone in the program.” He thought for a moment. “Wait...are you in the mob or something? They only put mafia and cartel members in there that agree to give up evidence in order to avoid a sentence. What did you do?”
“Me? Nothing.” Well, not quite nothing. “I dated a capo. It was pretty long term. I’ve...I’ve seen a lot.”
“So what’s your real name?” Jill had a very serious look on her face, and I couldn’t bear not telling her the truth. But...
“I can’t tell you.” Her jaws tightened as she gritted her teeth. “At least not now. Things may not be safe for you all if you know. Literally. People are...” I hung my head in shame. “They’re killing to get to me. Gina. The dead bodies. I’m almost certain there’s a bounty on my head.”
Jack grabbed my arm. “So call your handler and tell him.”
I shook my head. “That’s the problem. I’m not one-hundred-percent certain. There could also be a crazy ass serial killer around here, too. Last night, I was jogging—”
“You were jogging?” Jill asked incredulously.
“Well, I didn’t say I did it well.” I rolled my eyes. “But I saw a shadow in the alley behind the bar. It— he— seemed to be searching for something around the area where Gray Eyes’ body was.”
“Who?” The question was asked by all three of the men at the table.
“That’s what she calls the dude that shot Gina,” Jill clarified, which was followed by a round of oh’s.
“Anyway, I have a couple of theories, but I need help figuring out which one is correct. Or if it’s something entirely different I haven’t thought of.”
Frank eyed me suspiciously. “So what do you need from us?”
“First, I gotta know, are you sure you’re willing to do it?”
“Whatever leads me to the fucker responsible for what happened to my mama. I’m in, whatever your name is.”
I sighed at the dig, but ignored it because I couldn’t blame him. “Frank, I need you to ask your dad’s old associates if there are any new players in town.”
He slammed his fist on the table. “Oh hell no! Do you have any clue what it took for me and Mama to get the mafia off our backs? Out of our business? If I go back to them asking for favors, even just for info, I will owe them. Comprende?”
My eyes burned again. I knew what I was asking, but I needed the info. “I’m so sorry, Frank. But this cartel I ran with...they weren’t exactly discreet. If they are here, they would have already stomped all over the territory of every mob in Chicago, then dared the bosses to do something about it. The Puerto Ricans will know if they are here, and I need to know what they know.”
We were all silent as he calmed down, Jillesa doing that thing again where she rubbed the back of his neck. When I was sure that no other blow-ups were coming my way, I turned in my seat to face Jack. “Do you think you can get the files on all the slashing victims?”
He took a deep breath, shifting his head to the side and glancing at Frank with empathetic pity. “I’m just a uniform. A beat cop. All those files belong to homicide.” I pleaded with my eyes. “I can
get into the system for sure and make copies but, girl, if I’m caught, there are going to be a lot of higher ups wondering what the fuck I want with those files.”
“You can’t just, like, ask for them?”
He chuckled a bit, but there was no humor. “A uniform’s job is to patrol our beat. Pull people over for traffic violations and hassle ‘suspicious’ Black kids.” I didn’t miss the air quotes. “We see anything bigger than that, we call it in and let the detectives handle it. Now, I can make detective in a few years, but I got to keep my head down and follow the right procedures and chains of custody. If I’m caught poking around where I’m not supposed to, that looks bad on my record.” He scrubbed his face with both his hands. “But my sister says you need help, and it sounds like you do. I’ll grab what I can, but if you have to report this shit to your handler, keep my name out of it.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely. You have my word.”
“What about me, mami?” Miguel asked eagerly.
I smiled at him. After the last two requests being taken with such reluctance, it was nice to know that he was down for anything. “I just need you to do what you do. Keep your ears open. Let me know if you hear anything weird.”
He looked sullen for a moment but nodded. “I got’chu, mamasita.”
“And, Jill?” Shit, this was going to be the roughest of all. “Remember that lawyer you dated? The one that got a job at the DA’s office?”
“You mean Mr. Mosquito Dick Lazy Tongue?” At her nickname, Jaqueel slammed his head on the table muttering something about too much information. “Yeah, what about him?”
I grimaced. “I kinda need you to get some info from him, too.”
She threw her head back and loudly groaned. “Bitch, I had to block his number to keep him from calling me. Now you want me to talk to him again. You know he’s gonna want to fuck.”
“Please stop.” Head bang. “Please stop.” Jack wasn’t doing well with this part of the plan.
“Jill, I need this. I just need to know how much evidence they need to put my ex behind bars for good. I mean, the DEA has a thick-ass file on his drug trafficking, weapons buys, and suspected murder victims, but he never gets his hands dirty and never leaves physical evidence. Even in the crime I witnessed, he didn’t actually touch anyone. That’s why they’ve held me so long. My testimony alone isn’t enough to convict. He’s too damn smart. I need to know what it will take to nail him for good. Please, Jillesa.”
She crossed her arms in front of her and thought for a few minutes before making a face that clearly identified that she’d made up her mind. “Fine. But I have one condition.”
I silently sent up a prayer of gratitude. “Anything.”
“If I have to lay down with that prickless wonder and not have my toes curling, I’m going to need something to make up for my effort.”
Frank shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
Jack put his fingers in his ears and began singing, “La-la-la-la-la-la...”
Miguel propped his chin up in both his hands like an adorable teenager and grinned ear to ear.
Jill glared at me slyly. “I want a present. Something I’ve been envious of for a very long time.” Uh-oh. “I want you to buy me a Prissy Pink Pussy Penetrator™ of my own.”
I should have never told her about my toy. “But it can only be bought on a website, and it ships from Germany. It costs six hundred dollars! I saved forever for that thing.”
All the guys simultaneously got up and left the table.
“Deal or no deal, Kayla?”
Shit. “Deal.” Maybe I could find a coupon code.
I Kissed A Ghoul And I Liked It.
After our meeting wrapped up and I promised Jillesa the most expensive present known to man, everyone said their goodbyes—except for Frank and Jack, those two may never be on amicable terms—and we all started to disperse.
As Miguel began putting on his stained white coat to return to his job behind the counter, I stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, do you have a few more minutes for us to chat alone?”
He gave me that hundred-percent smile I had begun to really enjoy receiving and said, “Anything for you, mami. Walk back there with me?”
The two of us headed toward the back of the giant supermarket where the smells got better as we got closer to the meat department, and I bit the bullet. “Thanks for lunch. I think I would have starved if you hadn’t saved me with all that stuff.”
He nodded. “Yeah, you haven’t been looking so good lately. Oh— and I mean that as nicely as it can possibly be put.”
I laughed. I knew he’d never say anything mean on purpose. But the question on my mind hadn’t been asked and I was seriously trying to come up with the right words.
“Are you wondering how I knew what to make you?”
“Oh. Fuck. Yes! Thank you for saying it.” He’d never know how grateful I was.
He stopped and turned to me, forcing me to mimic him. “I wish I had a mirror.”
“Why?” I asked.
“You really need to see what’s happening to your face right now.”
My brain flashed back and forth between scared and confused. Did I look like I was stroking out or something?
“Your eyes are dilated. You face is tense, like you’re super aware of everything. Your nose...your nostrils are flaring something fierce.”
I may not have had a mirror to see all the things he’d just described, but I know I could feel one look on my face: startled. That all sounded quite unattractive...and a bit beastly.
He slowly lifted his hand and placed one finger beneath my chin. It almost seemed flirtatious. Sexy even. Until he nudged my face to the side. “Now...look around where we are.”
We’d already made it back to the meat department. When he’d stopped, he’d done so smack-dab between the pre-packaged beef cuts and the specialty sausages. When I saw the juicy red slabs in their styrofoam packages, tightly wrapped in a clear plastic like a kinky costume party, I gasped, realizing the problem. “How long have you noticed this?”
“Since the day you came in last week with that chola makeup job and turtleneck trying to cover up all them nasty bruises.” Oh god. It really was obvious.
“That had nothing to do with this other stuff going on. I fell. I swear.” I think.
He shook his head. “Naw. If some capo had you beat down, you wouldn’t be doing the monster thing.”
“What monster thing?”
Miguel got very serious. A first for him. “Okay. If I tell you, you have to do me one solid and tell me something first. I want your real name.”
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to make this promise, but I really wanted to know what’d been wrong with me. “Fine. It’s Kiera. And that’s all you’re getting. Not a soul but you can know.”
He crossed his heart with one finger, and then began ticking off with his others. “See the way I figure it—and I’m going by years of experience watching horror flicks—you’re either a zombie or a vamp. I almost said ‘no way’ on the zombie, ‘cause I thought they only ate brains, but it depends on the type of zombie. These days, most of them chow down on all flesh. And the way you be looking at meat, I was like zombie all the way for sure. You even got pale as shit and your hair turned white like that chica on TV that solves crimes.”
“So you think I’m a crime fighting zombie?” Dammit. I wanted real answers.
“Not quite, mami. See, you can talk and walk and think like normal. So, probably not a zombie.”
“Wait, Miguel. What is it exactly that you’re trying to say, because I’m thinking I want a refund on my name.”
“Hold up. So, before lunch, I was like, ‘I’m gonna figure this shit out once and for all.’ So I grabbed you one of them good ribeyes. Fresh. Just came in today. But I also went over to the processing area and emptied the blood that had collected into a cup.” He paused and eyed me with caution. “You still with me?”
My bitch face had probably emerged, but I sai
d, “Keep going,” anyway.
“Okay, so, I cooked you the steak. Barely. I wanted it super rare, but I still dressed it up all Mexicano style so no one would be suspicious. Then I mixed the blood with cinnamon, orange zest, and tamarind to cover the smell. When you sipped through the straw, it just looked like jamaica, you know?”
“I’m following you, but I still don’t get what you’re saying.”
“Well, that shit was all good, right? The carne, the blood drink, you loved it. Trust. The whole taqueria could tell.”
“Hey, I’m still trying to pretend that didn’t happen so shhhh, Miguel.”
He giggled schoolboyishly. “Yeah, okay...” He lowered his voice. “...Kiera.” At normal volume, he announced, “So the thing is, I know what you are.”
Not sure I wanted to hear his answer, I screamed, “What?”
“A zombie!” But this motherfucker just said...“And a vampire! You’re the first ever Zombivamp. Or Vampizom. I’m working on the name.”
All I could do was slap my forehead. “Goddammit, Miguel. This is serious.”
“I’m being serious. You can’t possibly think there’s any other explanation, can you?”
“Well, actually,” why was I getting ready to tell him this, “I figure it’s a weird female thing. I’m on my way to the clinic now.”
All he did was smirk. Somehow the little shit was certain he was right, as stupid as it sounded. Oh, okay. I’ve joined the army of the undead. I vant to suk your blud. “Yeah. I really do got to go.” I turned to leave, but the lasso of good manners pulled me back. “Seriously though...thank you. I do feel better.” I leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, but he turned his head lightning fast before I knew it, and I got a mouthful of Miguel. The little shit!
When I pulled away, the shit-eating grin on his face was almost—almost—adorable. “Want some of my goodies to take home? My treat.”
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