Page 81 of Miguel

He wasn’t a conventionally attractive man. In fact, I found him to be a bit…feo. All rugged, big, pointed nose, dark scruff of a beard, and tattooed over several visible parts of his body. Yet somehow, the combination of all of these things made him attractive.

“You’re gonna scare my new friend away, feito,” Xiomara admonished, calling her man ugly in a soft, endearing tone.

“If she’s scared away by a kiss, then this probably isn’t the place for her.” His palm tightened around her throat once before he peeled himself away from her and left without another word.

His words rang like a gong inside my brain.

“Ignore him,” Xiomara said with an eye roll. “But know that he’s right. There’s a lot that happens around here. People are just comfortable with their sexualities, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I’m not a prude.”

She gave me a pointed look that said she didn’t believe me.

“Okay, maybe I am a little.” But that was because I wasn’t used to this lifestyle. Not because I had anything against the club girls. I supposed they all had to make their living somehow and if this was their way, I wasn’t going to judge them for it. Did that mean I was going to be comfortable if they threw themselves at Miguel? No. But that had more to do with respect and loyalty than anything else.

“I know the club putas are a lot.” Xiomara leaned forward on her elbows. Her expression softened and it made her look less intimidating. “Not all of them are bad, though.”

“Will they respect the fact that Miguel’s in a relationship now?” I had to know. Maybe I would just torture myself with the answer, let my anxiety run too high and my own insecurities beat down on me.

“Some of them will. In fact, most of them do unless the guys entertain them. Yasmín is one you have to watch out for.” Her eyes flashed in an instant and I knew there must have been a story there. “They like to flock to the single guys mostly. Some of them have dreams of becoming Viejas eventually. Just because they practically live here doesn’t mean anything. You’ll never find men more loyal than Los Diablos. And Miguel is as straight as they come. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“I wasn’t worried.”

Her brows kicked up, like she could see right through my lies.

“I haven’t been here that long,” she said. “But in all my time here, I’ve never seen Miguel look twice at them.”

Something in my chest settled at the truth in her words. My shoulders lowered and a breath left my lungs. I hadn’t even realized how tense I actually was.

“Thank you.”

“We’re a family now, Pecas.”

Her endearment made the freckles she’d just nicknamed me after feel all the more glaring on my face and body.

“I got your back, yeah?”

The prospect of that sounded nice. To have a friend in Los Diablos, another Vieja who seemed well-established, who could help me get used to the idea of being here. Of being with a Diablo.

“Same here,” Fer agreed. “I’m not related to the Diablos by any means, but I can attest to how they protect their own. I just work for them and they’re amazing with me. So I’ve got your back as well.”

“And I’ve got yours, too. Both of you.”

They smiled, and then we were all pulled away and into the throes of the party.

Soon more people piled into the yard, their voices mingling in with the blast of loud music. Their taste ranged within an array of genres, like Mexican rap, rock, and cumbias that had several couples dancing on the grass in whirls and dips that brought laughter from my throat.

“I want you to meet some of my hermanos.” Miguel wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pressing a tender kiss to my temple.

My heartbeat sped up in my chest as he tugged me towards a close-knit group of the younger Diablos.

“You’ve met Loco already,” Miguel began by way of greeting, pointing a finger at his best friend and the club president.

Loco blew a smacking loud kiss in my direction and cackled when Miguel flipped him off.

“Keep your nasty lips away from my Vieja,” Miguel threatened, though there was no real heat behind the words. He turned to another member, this one young and light skinned, with a head full of dark curls and thick framed glasses that slid down the bridge of his nose. “That’s Chema.”

Chema smiled and a single dimple appeared on his cheek, nearly making me swoon. “Nice to finally meet you,” he said sweetly.

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