Page 77 of For The Record

“You want to watch a movie or something?” I say, gesturing to the flat screen across from my bed.

She shakes her head immediately. Too quickly for me to believe her. “I’m fine… I don’t want to bother you. I don’t even know why I woke you up. "

“Rain, you’re sixteen.” I put a hand on her shoulder.

“Yeah, I know. I’m too old to be crying and having nightmares or whatever…” She rubs at her face with the cuff of her long-sleeved shirt.

“No, that’s the complete opposite of what I meant, Raina.” It feels like every attempt I make with my sister just hits a brick wall sometimes. “I meant, you’re not an adult. You’re allowed to cry and have nightmares and grief. Even if you were an adult, you can cry all you want. It’s not your place to be strong for me or anyone else, okay?”

My words must have their desired effect because slowly her tears dry. “Can we bake cookies?” she says suddenly.

“At three in the morning?” I say.

Raina pairs her brown, puppy dog eyes with a pout that makes me wonder how people with younger sisters even survive. “Please, hermano mayor? Chocolate chip cookies. We can even bring some to Tia Flores.”

That clinches the deal for me. I would roll my eyes. But maybe in a way, this has all been a reminder. A sickening reminder, a heart-wrenching one, but one that tells me to value family above all else. Even work.

Raina is essentially a culinary dictator. She orders me around the kitchen, telling me to measure out the flour, butter, egg, salt, and sugar. I follow her directions with drill sergeant precision since I think the last time I baked anything I must have been ten years old at most.

When the cookies are in the oven, Raina dares me to eat the last of the raw cookie dough that is stuck to the mixing bowl. I figure that at least I can blame food poisoning for missing work tomorrow if the worst comes to the worst.

“Better than the final product, right?” she says, hopping onto the counter while I rinse the whisk, glass bowl and measuring utensils.

“Sure,” I lie.

She accepts my deception and shows me her favourite TikTokers while we wait for the cookies to bake. I can’t see the appeal in a lot of them, but since most of the videos are just cooking channels, I can’t see the harm in them either.

When I burn my tongue eating a cookie fresh-from-the-oven, Raina scolds me in a way that reminds me of our mother and mocks me in a way that is unique to the annoying little sister category. Cooling them on a rack, I force her to brush her teeth a second time before we both head off to bed.

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@E!News: Rumour has it, Antonio Perez’s wedding will be hard to forget! Probably because the groom is in handcuffs

@Ttang: @E!News it’s not too late to delete this tweet

@OllieJames: @E!News Why would you say that???

Chapter 38: Leo Perez

Skye is on my couch, cuddled up next to me and watching a movie, as she asks, “What’s that?”

I look down and see that I’m fiddling with the keyring out of habit, not realizing what I’m doing. Antonio’s presence is written all over it, yet I can’t bring myself to let it go or get over it. I still haven’t been to the vault.

My father’s lawyers are fighting the allegations with everything they have, but it looks like he’ll go down as another casualty of the MeToo movement, and rightfully so. As for me, I’ve driven past Ultra Vault countless times, but I was too… too what? Too afraid of what I might find inside it? Too afraid that it might challenge my perception of Antonio Perez as a serial womanizer and attempted rapist?

You want to hate him because you’re tired of wanting to be like him.

You want to hate him because you think hating him will keep him in the past, that it will slam a drawer and lock it shut forever, just like the jail cell you want him to end up in.

“My father—Antonio left it for me,” I say, trying to focus on the screen. A blonde actress is crying in the rain. I voted for a thriller. She voted for a comedy. We compromised and settled for action, but this is the least exciting action movie I have ever seen.

“The key to a safe deposit box?” Skye frowns, no longer looking at the TV. “Have you gone to the box?”

“No,” I say, hoping my tone of voice will deter her from asking more questions. Then again, it’s the voice I use with Raina, a teenager who barely listens to me half the time, so it will definitely not work on my girlfriend. Skye can be tenacious when she wants to, but right now, I just don’t think I want to give in.

This is a piece of myself, of my family, that I don’t want to expose just yet. Maybe not even to myself. I mean, who knows what could be in the box?

“Does Raina know about it?”

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