Page 23 of When Lies Unfold

3 Translates to “pure life” but can have multiple meanings depending on the context. It can be a substitute for “everything is great/cool,” “hello,” “goodbye,” or “you’re welcome” amongst many others. In this instance, it’s “goodbye.”

11

LOLA

The instant I set foot in Aarón’s small office building, I know something’s off.

Instead of sitting behind his large teak desk that’s seen better days, he stands behind it. Through the glass windows of his office, the usual stack of paperwork designating the homes requiring cleaning is scattered about.

Sabrina rushes over to me the instant she sees me and blurts out an apology. “Lo! I’m so sorry.”

I offer her a comforting smile, because Sabrina’s not like some of the other women working for Aarón—the ones who slack off on the job or frequently call in sick. She’s a hard worker like me.

“It’s fine.” I give her hand a quick squeeze. “Are you feeling any better?”

She lifts a shoulder in a partial shrug, her poor voice possessing a thick layer of congestion. “A little.”

My lips part to respond, but Aarón’s voice booms from inside his office. “Lola? I need to speak with you.” Through the glass, his gaze flits toward Sabrina before returning to me. “Alone.”

Sabrina and I exchange a concerned look as nervousness causes the pit of my stomach to maw open. Did I forget to clean something? I pride myself on my work, but after what’s recently transpired, my mind is a frazzled mess.

Worry creases Sabrina’s brow, but she leaves the office quietly. Aarón strides over and closes the door with a firm palm.

When he turns to face me, my stomach curdles with fear. “Lola…” He appears to struggle to find his words before gesturing toward the set of chairs opposite his desk. “Have a seat.”

Regarding him uneasily as he takes a seat behind his desk, I lower myself into a chair. With his elbows resting on the wooden surface, he steeples his fingers and winces as if he’s about to deliver terrible news.

Oh, God. Is he going to fire me?

“Lola, it’s been brought to my attention that…some circumstances changed on Friday night.”

His phrasing makes me narrow my eyes in suspicion which is proven to be warranted when he continues.

“As of now, you’ll have someone who…oversees your work each day.”

I stare at him for a moment. Surely, I didn’t hear him correctly. My words emerge slowly. “Someone will ‘oversee’ my work?”

“Yes.”

I wait for him to expand, but he doesn’t. The longer I sit and stare at him expectantly, the more he appears to fidget.

I fold my arms across my chest. “And who exactly will be overseeing my work each day?”

His avoidance of eye contact—a completely abnormal quality for Aarón—sends a powerful sense of foreboding washing over me.

I slump back in my seat as a loud exhale rushes past my lips. “Let me guess. A certain man with a tiny ponytail who goes around with an entourage?”

Releasing a heavy breath, he finally meets my eyes. “Look, Lola. It’s out of my hands.” He holds up his palms. “I don’t know what happened Friday night and don’t want to. What I do know is, it’s in everyone’s best interest to follow orders.”

My opinion of Aarón has decreased within mere seconds. I never would’ve expected him to consort with a known criminal—a murderous narco, nonetheless.

I jump up from my seat. “And you’re fine with this?” My voice rises incrementally as I wave my hand, gesturing outside his office. “You’re fine with throwing me to the wolves?”

He darts out of his chair and shushes me, worry etched on his taut features. “Keep your voice down! We don’t need the others overhearing anything.”

I fist my hands at my sides and glare at the man I once regarded as a small savior. A man I thought was good, through and through.

A man I would’ve never expected to cave to the wishes of a criminal.

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