Page 39 of All Twerk, No Play

“I'd never go up against Lil Miss RBF in poker, you’d destroy me,” I said and she chuckled appreciatively. “I’d be naked in a few hands. I mean, I’m already halfway there, and we haven’t—”

“Cruz? You still there?” Tracy’s metallic voice clanked.

I knelt close. “Still here.”

“I called Ms. Blackstone’s partner, he said he’ll reschedule the meetings,” she said. Victoria exhaled in relief.

“Any update from the fire department?”

“They’re 25 minutes out.”

I thanked Tracy and settled along my wall. Victoria wiggled her toes with a hopeful lift of her eyebrow.

I took her foot again. “Where were we?”

“Truth or dare.”

“Nope, you were about to sing me a song,” I said, feigning nonchalance but dying to hearanythingshe’d give me. “The alphabet. Mary Had a Little Lamb. Copacabana.” I looked around our mirrored jail and sang a line from Aerosmith’s ‘Love in an Elevator.’

She picked at a cuticle. “Three years ago he was my date to a family wedding. After meeting them, he dumped me on the flight home. Truth or dare?”

Her eyes glistened with veiled pain. She’d given me more than she needed to as a gesture of goodwill … and to earn my answer. “Truth.”

“Why did you have to choose between military conscription and juvenile detention?”

I pressed my knuckles into her sole. “Aggravated assault, second degree.”

She stilled. Her usual coolness felt like a reprieve, giving me the benefit of the doubt.

“Second degree,” she repeated. Her gaze rolled to the ceiling, probably drudging up long-buried criminal law lessons. “What was your weapon?”

I held up my hands, balled them into fists and feigned a punch, then returned them to her feet so she wouldn't notice they were shaking.

“Who?” she whispered.

If I didn’t answer, she would respect my boundary … but it might worry her. Right now her foot was pliant in my hands, but I didn’t want her to pull away.

“I got into a lot of fights in school. Harmless shit, playground scuffles. I could usually charm my way out, but sometimes they came to blows.” I chuckled nervously. “Hard to believe, but sixteen-year-old Cruz was a bit of a lady’s man. I hooked up with girls, then got challenged by their brothers. And boyfriends.”

Her cautious expression lightened.

“Usually the fights broke up quickly, until one guy threatened to do to my little sister what I did to his, whether she liked it or not.” I met Victoria’s eyes. “She was eleven.”

She gasped.

“He spent three days in the hospital. His lawyers argued that since I had my brown belt, my attack could be classified as assault with a deadly weapon.” I cleared my throat, stretching out my fingers. “My stepdad made a deal with the judge that if I kept my hands clean until I was 18, my records would be expunged and I’d join the military to get out of town. He was a karate sensei, so to keep me out of trouble until I could enlist, I spent two years apprenticing at his dojo. Before I left, I made sure my sisters could protect themselves.”

I saw respect in her eyes. “That’s why you teach self-defense?”

“If they ever feel threatened, they can kick ass.”

“How many sisters do you have?”

“Two. Adriana is 21, she’s a hair and makeup artist,” I wiggled my chipped purple fingernails at Victoria. “And Luisa is 19, the first in our family to go to college.”

She shifted like her ass was falling asleep. I slid my hand up to her ankle, pulling slightly to loosen her hip, and the tension in her face softened.

Then I made the biggest dare of all. “You want me to teach you?”

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