Page 2 of Devious Lies

Enrico Sanchez’s reputation precedes him, though I only became aware of it recently.

I don’t judge. The world is complicated and I don’t understand it well enough to make assumptions.

I am very self aware for a woman my age and I know I can’t begin to understand, and I should probably be scared of what it is my father does.

But I’m not.

I’m proud of my family.

Being at home is wonderful. I feel safe. Loved. And I can’t wait for the holidays.

Okay, there’s another reason I’m excited to have the next few weeks off from school.

I can’t wait to see him.

I’ve met my father’s boss on a handful of occasions. Most recently, when I came home from school to celebrate el Día de los Muertos a few weeks ago.

But he isn’t who I want to see. It’s his son.

Enrico Sanchez has three sons, but that celebration was the first time I actually met them.

The oldest, Junior, scares the hell out of me. Matteo is the middle one. He’s hardly any better than Junior. But Carmine, the youngest, is an absolute dream.

The party was a lot of fun. And I had a great time.

The Sanchez villa is located on a private cul de sac in Montclair. Far away from where he conducts his business.

When I close my eyes, I can see the decorations and I smile. Thousands of candles, flowers, and ofrendas were set up.

Ofrendas are altars. Legend says they help guide the souls of the departed back to their families for this one night. This is my favorite part of my Mexican heritage.

That night, I felt like I was walking in a dream. There was food, music, and costumes. Most of all, there was magic. At least, that was how I felt when Carmine asked me to dance.

We’ve been texting, and I have to admit I like where it’s going.

“Mia, where is your head? Don’t you hear the front door?” Mami says, interrupting my reverie.

I feel my cheeks burn as I go to answer the door. But I couldn’t have known what I would find on the other side.

Papi comes rushing in and he’s got someone in his arms. More men follow and they’re all shouting in Spanish.

I don’t speak Spanish. Just a few words, clips, and phrases.

I gasp and step back.

“Mia, towels, quick!” Papi yells at me as he lays his burden on the couch.

That’s when my stomach drops out.

It’s Carmine. And he’s been shot.

“No!” I sob and cover my mouth.

“Get a fucking towel, Bitch!”

Someone shoves me, and I turn and see Matteo.

He’s bloody and bruised, but that doesn’t seem to stop him from staring at my tits.

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