Page 29 of Inescapable Ties
Valentina looked like she had a lot to say on the matter, but before she could respond, I saw her signature look change to a fake smile, and she waved to someone behind me.
“Hilaria, let’s go,” she said.
“I think I’ll stay, uhm, here,” Liria responded timidly.
“What did you say?” she hissed.
“I’d just like to…stay here.”
Valentina did not have time to argue. Going off the fake facial expressions on her face, the person behind me was clearly beckoning her towards them.
“Fine,” she hissed, walking away.
There were a few moments of silence between Liria and I. We hadn’t talked since we were thirteen, and the way it ended had been awkward. The three had cornered me and her parents said ‘stay away from her.’ Although in a more verbose, cruel way.
“I think that was the most I’ve ever heard you talk back, Liria,” I said, using the nickname from when we were younger.
“Probably,” she said meekly.
Leone and Valentina Alto truly were the worst.
“Well, let’s keep it on theme,” I said. “Let’s go to the bar.”
“But we’re not old enough to drink,” she responded.
“I have a feeling they’ve been paid to look the other way.”
I led Liria towards the bar, my heels clicking on the polished marble floors. She kept casting nervous glances back at her mother, who was now engaged in a deep, animated conversation with some other wealthy patrons.
It was surprisingly empty. The other guests must be enjoying the hors d’oeuvres and conversations where they try to one-up each other.
“Two White Russians, please,” I said to the bartender.
With a skeptical gaze, he studied our faces. It was evident that we were both not yet of legal drinking age, not yet twenty-one as his strict expression suggested.
But the amount of money given by these generous donors had him looking the other way.
“Of course, ma’am,” he said.
“Are we really doing this?” Liria asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“Yes. Quit worrying what your parents think.”
The bartender busied himself with our order, expertly measuring vodka, Kahlua, and cream into a shaker filled with ice. He finished the drinks and sat them in front of us.
“Enjoy.”
I took a sip of mine while Hilaria tentatively held hers.
“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to,” I said, taking another sip of my drink.
“No! I’m going to.”
She brought the glass to her mouth, and just as she was about to take a drink, a gunshot pierced through the room.
I wasn’t good at many things. Fortunately, one of the few items in my repertoire was working well under pressure.
My drink slipped from my hand, shattering on the floor as I pulled Liria towards the safety of the bar. The sound of gunshots reverberated through the hall, growing increasingly louder.
