Page 41 of Capuleto

"Yes, yes, great. Wow, I just came to get a French manicure and I'm leaving with a business proposal. Only good things happen around you," she murmured, looking at me with admiration.

"That’s because you deserve them. Don’t stray from my side and we’ll achieve great things together. You’ll see."

We clinked glasses and drank. She was so transparent and manipulable, I could see her picturing herself in that ideal space, teaching classes to countless little millionaires.

My sister-in-law appeared through a side door with an ashen face, looking unwell. I stood up immediately upon seeing her condition. She looked like she might collapse at any moment.

"You're here..." she murmured almost in surprise.

"Yes, sorry for not notifying you. Julieta, are you alright?" I was almost by her side.

"I was calling you..."

"Silly me, I put it on silent last night and forgot to turn the volume back up!"

It was true I had silenced it, but for a different reason. I didn’t want to be disturbed during my meeting with Yuri. I got distracted, and that's why I hadn't heard her calls.

"It’s... It's my brother..."

"Your brother?" My heart skipped a beat.

"The police called me, they set the club on fire with him and Dante inside..."

"What?!" I exclaimed. A pang shot through my chest. I grabbed my sister-in-law by the arms and shook her without restraint. "Are you sure?" She nodded. "Who did it? What happened? How is Romeo?"

The question choked me as I saw her break down crying inconsolably and shake her head in denial. When they did that in the movies, it was never a good sign.

Impossible! My husband couldn’t have died! Could he?

18

Emergency room of a hospital

We arrived at the hospital with our hearts in our throats.

We knew little about what had happened.

The police told Julieta that my husband and Dante had been taken by ambulance and that, for the moment, they could not tell us more.

The only thing my sister-in-law could get out of them before going into shock was that a guy had rammed his car into the club, poured a can of gasoline, and set it on fire with the two of them inside.

We could expect the worst, because when they don't want to talk about someone's condition, it's because things look very bad.

I couldn't get out of my head that maybe my brother had something to do with it, but if that was the case, he would have told me, right? Or was he still going with his "surprise factor" so that no one could tell from my face that I knew what was going to happen? If I was right, I was starting to really dislike his attitude, it made me distrust him.

I gripped the steering wheel tightly and restrained myself from hitting it because Julieta was still crying like a Magdalene, and I didn't want to scare her.

The idea of Romeo and his man burning alive was gut-wrenching. Could there be a more painful and distressing death than that? To smell your own flesh burning while the fire consumes you.

Just thinking about it made me shudder completely. I felt some moisture on my cheeks as I imagined the scene. The harrowing screams of my husband and his man. Silent tears slid down my cheeks trying to soothe the images that my mind kept projecting to torture me.

Why was I so affected by what might happen to him if he had been betraying me with his lover?

I couldn't answer that question; all I knew was that his death hurt me at a level it shouldn't. Perhaps the weight of his charred image blocked my ability to reason. The heart silenced the brain, turning me into a mess of incoherencies. I needed to know what had happened to him, I needed to know so it would stop screwing with me so much.

I floored the accelerator and I barely remember the drive from the salon to the emergency room, where a grumpy receptionist was demanding a patience I did not have.

"Madam, please, calm down." —I leaned over the counter.

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