Fight For Me

by Claudia Burgoa

  I slip down my dress, walk to the dresser, and search for a T-shirt to sleep in. Mom’s blue journal is under my 1986 Journey World Tour shirt. That was one of her favorite bands. I like them but not as much as the ones she has on her tapes under Spanish rock.

  “Papá, do I look like her at all?”

  “Her?”

  “Mom,” I whisper. Unlike me, my mother had porcelain skin and blond hair. She was Caucasian. Her family came from old money, and for her birthday she traveled to other countries. I’ve never gone out of the country, or on vacations. “I look nothing like her.”

  “You have her eyes, her smile, and her fearless, compassionate, and sweet personality.” Dad’s voice sounds lost. “I miss her every day.”

  “I wish I had spent more time with her,” I tell him, searching for some comfort through her words. “Can you tell me about Mom?”

  “Luna, why are you in New York?”

  And we are done discussing Mom.

  “I’m working, Dad,” I remind him. “Children shouldn’t be taken away from their families. But when they are, someone has to find a way to bring them back home—alive.”

  “That won’t bring your mother or your sister back, Luna. It puts you in danger.”

  And that’s exactly why he wants me behind a desk. He doesn’t want to lose me. The flash of pain tightens my heart like a fist. Squeezing it tight. I know nothing will bring them back. But if there can be one less broken family thanks to me, I’ll keep doing it.

  “One life exchanged for another is not a fair price to pay,” I repeat some of the words he’s said throughout the years. I hear him scoff on the other side of the line. He tries not to react. He’s good at hiding his feelings.

  During the eighties, he led several missions as a Navy SEAL. He has worked on cases of national security while in the Bureau that have saved millions of lives and put him in danger.

  Dad’s a hero, but he couldn’t save his own family.

  “Luna, don’t talk that way,” he pleads. My heart hurts as the pain in his voice squeezes it tight. “I wish I could send you to your room, lock you away for the next hundred years. Do you have any idea what would happen to me if I lost you or your brothers? I wish you had been doctors, teachers, cooks—any other professional career that wouldn’t put you in harm’s way.”

  Mom was a teacher, she still died young.

  I don’t say it out loud; all it would do is hurt us both.

  “I’m safe, Papá,” I say the words he wants to hear even if neither of us believe them.

  No one is safe from death. It’s the only thing in this world that doesn’t discriminate.

  He lets out a big sigh. “New York isn’t a safe place, I’ll make a few calls. Have a good night, mi chiquita linda.”

  I can’t believe he still calls me his little beauty. I’m thirty-one, not three. The men in my family have a hard time remembering my age, but their sweetness makes me feel loved. Still, I can’t help but wonder what kind of calls he’s going to make. Is he going to ask my superiors to pull me out of my post?

  My fingers twist and yank the t-shirt. I’m trying not to show how annoyed I am. “Night, Papá.”

  I set the phone on the nightstand. Before doing what I like to do every night, I go to the wine cellar Hazel showed me yesterday and pour myself a glass of wine. When I arrive in the room, I sit on the small chair next to the window and open the journal to a random page. Tonight, I have to hear her words.

  He’s here. I saw Cristobal walking along Central Park with a woman holding a little boy. He has a family. My heart beat fast when I recognized him, but slowed down when I heard the kid call him Papa. His mother was right, I wasn’t meant to be with him. We’re different. My parents warned me—he was never in love with me.

  If only I could stop loving him. I surrendered my heart to him. My body and soul belong to him. Even when I’ve let other men touch me, I’m his.

  I console myself looking at Sammie. Having her is the best thing that’s happened to me. I can’t regret breaking up with him. That’d mean not having my little girl. She’s the only one who matters.

  Chapter Ten

  Luna

  Sleep eludes me after my conversation with Dad. He’s miles away from me—always. We don’t discuss my cases—hell, he doesn’t even know that I’ve read all of Mom’s journals several times. And yet, he’s aware that I’m here for more reasons than I let on. I’m here because Mom deserves justice. Because if our family hadn’t been shattered everyone would be happy. I think. Sammie wouldn’t have to move with our maternal grandparents.

  She would be with us, happy.

  My stomach tightens. The last time I saw Sammie hits me hard. Just like Dad couldn’t save Mom. I couldn’t save Sam.

  I failed.

  Only two weeks ago Lucas found her living in DC. Not that he was looking for her. He was investigating a gang. It surprised him to find that his big sister was a part of it. He called me, devastated. “I barely recognized her. I’m not sure what her role is, but she was high when I saw her.”

  I swallowed hard. “Did she recognize you?”

  “No. I made sure to stay away from her.”

  Maybe he was wrong. “Are you sure it was Sammie?”

  “One hundred percent sure,” he confirmed.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m off the case,” he mumbled. “There’s no way to tell what’s going to happen to her.”

  The FBI was onto the gang. Not onto her. At least, that’s the logic I decide to follow. If I could help her. Maybe we could save her. She was part of the family I lost. I made contact with her. We had a few email exchanges. She accepted my help. Lucas and I cosigned her lease. We got her a job. She agreed to go to rehab. All was great, until she disappeared on me.

  I parked my car at the subway station and made my way to the city. Sammie hadn’t contacted me or responded to my emails despite agreeing to leave and go to rehab. Dad would help her if she was willing to get clean. I walked against the current through the mass of people rushing toward the street, swiped my card, and boarded the car just in time. With food and enough money to buy her a ticket to wherever she wanted to go. I was ready to fight her if that’s what it took to get her out.

  Once I arrived at my destination, I walked outside the subway station at the corner of the street. I stopped, waiting for the light to turn green so I could cross. Looking around, I worried about her safety. The road was polluted, litter everywhere. A man sat next to the building across the street, begging for money.

  As I crossed the street, I watched the people surrounding us. Men eyeing me, licking their lips, and whistling. They could stare all they wanted, but if any of them got close, I would make them regret it. My brothers and father had taught me to fight, starting judo and karate at four years old. I continued past a fruit stand, a nail salon, and a rotisserie chicken store, and stopped at the front door of the third building. It was a complete mess, to put it nicely. A few boarded windows, the peeling door, the trash around it–everything looked threatening. I rang the bell five times.

  “Who died?” A guy wearing a pair of boxers opened the door. Glassy eyes, bruises on his arms.

  “Who are you?” I glared at him, releasing my hand and pushing him so I could get through.

  There was only one rickety staircase leading to the first floor with a worn, beaten banister.

  I continued to the next floor where Sammie lived. It wasn’t any better than the ground floor with the paint clinging to the walls and doors. A thick layer of dirt settled on everything in sight. I stared at the open door. It was open. She lay on the couch. Her brassy blond hair was matted, she only wore a T-shirt, and her legs were bruised.

  The small area was a kitchen, living room and dining room. It was filled with empty food containers, bottles of alcohol, and other trash.

  “You’re high,” I whispered, walking toward my sister.

  I set the food I brought on the table next to the piles
of trash. “You have to be at work in an hour.”

  Lying on the couch, she released a loud laugh. She was skeletal. Barely any meat on her bones. I could almost hear the rattling through her ribs.

  “Sammie, I’m serious,” I insisted.

  Lucas warned me that this wouldn’t be easy and unfortunately he couldn’t be here supporting me while I dealt with Sammie’s recovery.

  “Go away,” she mumbled and closed her eyes again.

  “You can’t skip work.”

  “I made enough money to pay the rent. Get the hell out of my house,” she ordered.

  “You made enough money? I loaned you money yesterday for the rent.” My voice came out as a raging scream. “What happened to ‘I want to get better’? You asked me for help.”

  “I. Don’t. Need. You.”

  I shook my head, ignoring her hurtful words. Opening my purse, I searched for the paper bag of herbs. “Here’s some tea. Mom would’ve wanted you to drink it.”

  “You still think she talks to you, poor little girl.” She laughed. Her vicious words punctured my heart. “She was my mother. Not yours. You look nothing like her. I wished they had killed you when they killed her. I will never understand why they let you live.”

  Sammie was so high she spit nonsense just to be hurtful. I knew better than to listen. Lucas always told me when I was born, she adored me. I knew it was the drugs, but I couldn’t help my anger at the way she treated me. Still, I had to try my best to save her,

  “Stop,” I ordered her. “You’re doing it again. I might not have met her, but she was mine too. She loved me, I know it. I want to help you because you’re my sister.”

  “Get the fuck out of my house and my life. You’re nothing to me. If I see you again, I’ll kill you. This is your only warning.”

  After Mom died, I don’t think anyone helped Sammie work through Mom’s loss. She lost herself in drugs when she couldn’t deal with reality. She once told me that meth allowed her to achieve some of the happiness she lost when Mom left us. She liked to reach for that magic potion that helped her forget whatever it was that she wanted to ignore.

  It wasn’t long after that last meeting that I received the call about my sister overdosing. I wish I could have saved her, but I comfort myself with the thought that maybe her addiction was like terminal cancer. There was only ever so much I could do to prolong her life, but she was always going to leave. A part of me hopes she’s happy with Mom by her side, that she finally got to be in peace. According to the few articles I’ve found, she’s the one who discovered Mom’s body. She saw what happened to Mom, sat with her in her last minutes. That’s enough to scar any child.

  Sammie was thirty-one when she died. She was sick, very sick.

  Mom’s killer is free. He might not have pulled the trigger, but he’s responsible nonetheless. It’s no different than any other case: if I can’t bring them home, I have to bring peace to their families. In this case, my father, my brothers, and hopefully me. It’s not about vengeance, but opening a case that was mistakenly closed. I want justice for Mom.

  I wonder if will Harrison help me bring the killer down if I ask?

  Chapter Eleven

  Harrison

  The next morning, I wake up at my usual time, five in the morning. I go out for a run, head to the gym, and make my way home. As I enter the kitchen, I spot Hazel in front of the espresso machine while Scott mans the stove.

  “Good morning?” I greet them.

  “Morning, Harrison. Do you want some coffee?” She asks with her usual chirpy voice.

  “I wasn’t expecting to see you this early, and dressed.” I stare at her mini dress and sandals. I saw her sleeping in the media room, wearing pajamas, only a few hours ago. “Where are you going, the beach?”

  Her shoulders slump. “That sounds better than Vermont.” She smacks her lips as she pours the frothed milk in the two mugs she has in front of her. “We are going antique shopping. I want to redecorate Scott’s office.”

  She sets one on the breakfast table, then hands me the other one. “It doesn’t have any sugar or flavored syrup,” Hazel warns me and goes back to the cupboard for another mug.

  This is the first time since we’re back home that she seems like her old self. Also, the first time Luna isn’t around so I decide to bring up a tricky subject. “We haven’t discussed your parents.”

  “There’s nothing much to say, Harry.” Her voice is steady, but her body tenses. “Mom decided to call it off. Dad is brokenhearted.”

  Scott shakes his head, giving me a death glare.

  She sets the gallon of milk back on the counter, taking a few deep breaths. “There’s more, but I have to process it, slowly.”

  Hazel turns around. Her eyes are slightly red. “Dad blames me for Mom’s behavior. He said that if I hadn’t been so insistent on trying to change her, she wouldn’t have jumped off the balcony.”

  “It wasn’t you.” Scott’s voice is gentle.

  “I know, but that doesn’t make it hurt less.” She drinks some of her coffee and stares at the pancakes on the table. “We should buy maple syrup. Vermont is as good as Canadian syrup. I should get my passport in case we decide to cross the border.”

  “Can we plan a trip to Canada for October?” Scott redirects her attention. “You already have the month of September booked.”

  “Sorry,” she whispers.

  “You don’t have to apologize. I’ve wanted to travel like this for a long time, actually. I welcome the opportunity.”

  “You do like to travel,” I agree with him. “That was part of the plan until—”

  “I have a list for you.” Hazel interrupts me, snapping her fingers, chasing away the thick, gloomy atmosphere we were creating.

  She grabs her phone and starts firing messages. “I gathered some likes and dislikes from Luna. Things I know you won’t find out soon enough but are imperative to know. Study it. It’ll help you.”

  She finally takes a seat and grabs a couple of pancakes. “Now tell me, how was last night?”

  “You abandoned me.” I fake hurt, but I’m secretly glad they left me alone with Luna.

  “We didn’t want to be your third wheel, plus we were starving. Scotty treated me to fish and chips since it was Friday,” she informs me. “We went to O’Leary’s.”

  “And came back to watch a Harry Potter marathon,” I finish her adventure.

  Hazel frowns.

  “Scott was still watching it when I came back, but you were already asleep.”

  “Yeah, poor guy, he slept all night on the couch because of me. For your information, I think he’s starting to sneak into the top spot of my favorite Everhart.” She shrugs. “Just in case you want to up your game.”

  “Nah, I think I’m good for now. Having that position for the past ten years has been hard, I’m glad he started working his ass off to win the number one spot.”

  “Speaking of which, you should head to my house and check on Luna,” she says suddenly before taking a bite of pancake. “Do something fun with her.”

  “I don’t understand why I’m actually dating her.” I bring it up casually, it doesn’t bother me, but Hazel is pushing the envelope a little too far.

  “Visibility and transparency are key during this operation,” she corrects me. “Follow my lead, I know what I’m doing. In exchange, you can have so much fun together!”

  She finishes her coffee, holds her mug, and smiles at me. “The woman is amazing, enjoy your time with her.”

  “You like her?” I narrow my gaze, studying Hazel.

  She has never liked any woman I’ve gone out with. Not even when she knows they’ll be gone the next morning. I wonder if she likes Luna genuinely or…

  “Are you sure?” I cross my arms. “You’ve never liked any of the women that my brothers or I have dated. Why this one?”

  “I do like her,” she says, honestly. “As for the other women, they were…passing. No one has ever brought home a Luna. Every other
woman was…trying to score an Everhart.”

  I grin smugly and say, “Do you think we need a Luna for Scott?”

  She turns to Scott. “He’s content right now. I don’t think he needs a woman. Do you, Scotty?”

  “No,” he groans. “I’m happy with my life. Leave me alone.”

  “Hunter has Willow. My best match so far.”

  “But you like Luna.” And fuck, why am I so relieved to know that they are getting along?

  “If I were into women, I’d be snatching her away from you. She’s witty, fun, smart. And have you seen her practice yoga? She’s very…bendy.” She smirks. “I want to be like her. Actually, I’m going to practice yoga every day. My next man is going to love my elasticity.”

  “Time for me to go,” I declare, then turn to Scott. “Good luck. You have your hands full this weekend. She’s going to tell you all about her ‘yoga poses.’”

  I leave, laughing at the fact that my brother will be fighting a hard-on while he’s next to who I suspect is the love of his life. He should man up and just tell her how he feels.

  As Hazel suggested, I head toward her place where Luna is currently living. She’s stepping out of the building as I arrive. I could get used to seeing her beautiful face every day. And that smile she uses to greet everyone around her is contagious. Luna waves at Carl as she exits the building, shooting happiness and sunshine around her. Suddenly, she halts. Her precious face becomes an ugly scowl the moment she spots me.

  “What, I don’t get to see that beautiful smile?” I hand her a cold matcha green latte, her favorite drink for the summer according to Hazel. Hot cocoa during the fall, peppermint chocolate during the winter, and hot tea after New Year’s Day. The little micromanager emailed me a list of helpful tips. Favorite flowers, drinks, food, music, and hobbies. Based on Luna’s preferred sports, she suggested the shooting range or a boxing ring for one of our dates. She loves her family and spends time with them every Saturday.