Page 37 of Stealing Iris

“You have no idea how much they pay for a cherry like this,” he says, as if it’s a normal conversation. “Especially on someone who looks like her.” I keep trying to pull up my jeans, but the air-conditioning hits my bare bottom, and I know what’s going to happen, again. Only now it’s two of them.

“No,” I sob, pushing to get up off the desk. The door squeaks. Is someone coming in, or had Ismael moved from the entrance? I want to die just knowing Carol or Oliver will find me like this.

“Yeah, she’s prime, dude.”

“What’s going on here? Conrado!” It’s Olga, and I’ve never been so happy to hear her voice. “Ismael, you get yourself out of here,” she scolds, her voice harsh. “You let that girl go.” Conny’s hand comes off my neck, and I nearly sag in relief. “What’s wrong with you? The door is wide open, and there’s customers up front.” I get up off the desk, clutching at my jeans and stumble away. Shoving Ismael, I run past him to the bathroom, where I can lock myself in.

I need to calm down before I can face anyone.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

DANTE

Just when I thought I might be able to sneak in for some comfort food, I find Bunny putting a Help Wanted sign in the front window. She looks up, straight into my face, so it’s impossible for me to keep going when I’m grasping the handle. She winks, waving as I push through the glass door.

“Well hey there, handsome. Didn’t expect to see you back so soon,” Bunny says, with a level of enthusiasm I’m still not used to. She cranes her neck, trying to look behind me. “Is Iris with you?”

After years of conditioning, I don’t react, even though she’s tugging at my guts.

“No.” I shake my head slowly. Why didn’t I keep walking when I had the chance? “Things didn’t work out.”

Her head jerks back in surprise. “You dumped her?” The accusation in her voice cuts deep, maybe because she’s someone close to Iris.

“No, actually I wasn’t the one to decide.” Maybe that would be enough to set her straight. But the way her expression hardens reminds me of Tino, so we’re nowhere near done.

She pulls back, tilting her head and folding her arms. “Did you try to push her into something she didn’t want to do?”

Now there’s a loaded question. Things hadn’t been that simple, so I borrowed from what Iris once said to me. “Things were complicated.” Yet I braced myself for more because she asks questions matter-of-factly and with no regard to privacy. As if a dozen people aren’t hanging on her every word, wondering if I’m some deviant.

She unfolds her arms, her expression relaxing. “Yeah well, such is life.” With a quick exhale, she goes around the counter, tapping at a spot where I can sit. “What can I get you?”

“Chile relleno.” Every step is like trudging through high water. I pull out the weathered log stool, ignoring the people I can feel watching me. “To go.” Because I’m not going to sit through another round with a female version of Tino wanting to interrogate me.

“You got it.” She hustles over to the kitchen entrance and pushes the door open to shout my order before stepping back. “Coke?”

“Sure.” Pouring it might focus her attention somewhere else. But when she brings the drink, she lingers. The best I can do is settle on a neutral smile.

“You’re not working the kitchen?” Hopefully this will sideline the next round of the interrogation.

“Not today.” She grabs a towel, wiping down the counter, though the area is spotless. “Had to let a couple of people go.” She exhales, twisting the corner of her lips. “One of them was the cashier, and she’s family,” she adds, shaking her head. “It’s getting to where you don’t know who to trust anymore.”

It’s the one thing my clients complain about most. They can’t find someone to trust, either for themselves or with their money.

“Don’t be too hard on Iris.” Bunny’s voice is low and thoughtful. “Little sister’s had a hard life.”

The flyer with her father’s picture jumps out at me. “Yeah, I guess she has.”

Bunny keeps one hand on the counter, twisting her torso to look back. “That’s not the worst of it.”

I switch back, giving her my full attention.

She tilts her head in a slow move. “In fact, having him gone might be a blessing in disguise.”

The statement is so unexpected, the corners of my mouth drop.

A fork clatters on a plate. “I heard that,” a man snaps from the back of the room.

With a quick swivel, I catch a short, barrel-chested, man pushing away from a table at the back.

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