Page 71 of Invisible String
I jumped off the sofa to retrieve a water bottle. The mind works in such an evil manner. It pisses you off; it gives memories you want to be crumbled, dissolved, burned, and/or dead. The sad or good part is, I remember it all. The way Max’s lips rolled on my body. How he felt inside me. The way his touch sent a gazillion sparks through my body. That smile that was only reserved for me and his laugh filled my heart with a vast amount of warmth. What pissed me off is that I didn’t want to remember any of it.
“I’ve never really spoken to him all the times his family came around, but something about him gives me heebie-jeebies.” She laughs. “But maybe you guys can be more if it feels right, you know. He’s a good distraction,” she adds.
A distraction.
Is that what I’ll have all my life because falling in love is not in the cards again? My sister saw me die inside the night I came home from the cabin. She helped me inside and tucked me into bed. It was embarrassing for her to see how hard I fell for a man who could never love me. Max had shadows in him, and I thought I could be the light in his dark heart—the halo in hisshadows. I thought I could fix him, but boy, I was wrong. He broke me instead. And no one can fix me.
“I’ll think about it.” That’s all I tell her, and that seems to give her a bright smile.
The bakery is bustlingthis Saturday afternoon. My decision to sellpan dulce,alongside my usual creations, was a stroke of brilliance. Isabella, who taught me how to make the bread, has also been teaching me Spanish for the past few years. I have no choice but to learn because she forces me to, because she won’t speak English much.
Isabella peers at me while scrubbing the counter. My sister came and helped this morning, so things went well. “The place is closed, and you already did the prepping. Go and have fun.”
Grabbing my coat from the coat hanger, I go to stand next to her. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, now go on.” She smiles, then pulls me in for a hug. Andrew invited me to dinner. Then he said he had gotten tickets or a pass to see The Master of Disaster. I’m not sure what that is, but I think he said it was wrestling or UFC. Hell, if I should know. Rumors say that this fighter is unbeatable, a true beast in the ring. He has never lost a match, and tonight, he’s facing one of his toughest challenges yet, putting his winning streak at risk.
“You’re the best. I owe you.” I frown. “Your husband is probably waiting.”
She gives me a slight push toward the door. “I’ll take him some leftovers from here, and he’ll be happy.”
Slipping my coat on, I head home to shower and change. My dad offered to give me money for a down payment on a house, but I don’t want anything from him. I don’t need him to use that against me. My mom left me all her money from the bakery, including her shop in Carson. When I sold it, I used the money to build Sunshine Bakery. I’ve worked hard to buy my home.
As I approach my home, the porch light flickers on and illuminates the newly renovated house. It’s a quaint, one-story home with charming wooden shutters and a freshly painted white exterior. The front yard is lush with green grass and a white picket fence, while the backyard boasts a spacious patio and a colorful garden. This gem is a rare find in bustling Las Vegas, with its unique character that sets it apart from other cookie-cutter houses.
I finally finished unpacking and settling in. I stayed with my brother until I found a home and neighborhood I was comfortable in.
The house is empty. My sister must have stayed with Justin. According to her, I might get lucky. I snorted at that.
Unclipping my messy bun in the bathroom, my hair drops to my waist. I stare at my reflection in the mirror as I undress. I have gained an unhealthy amount of weight. It’s probably stress because it shows on my face. The dark circles under my eyes show the lack of sleep, and my pale skin shows the lack of sun, revealing how isolated I’ve become over the years.
Once I’m done showering, I put a little effort into getting dressed, more than I’ve done in the last couple of years. The maroon skirt fits me tighter around the thighs, but I don’t care, really. I match it with a white sweater and knee-high boots. I brush my hair, not bothering to curl it.
My phone buzzes on the counter.
Andrew: Hey, are you ready, beautiful?
Me: Yeah, just about. By the time you get here, I’ll be ready.
Andrew: On my way.
I don’t know what it is, but I feel a tightness in my chest. Maybe this with Andrew is giving me mental diarrhea. No, it can’t be that.
We endup parking at a warehouse after dinner. Not where I expected us to end up. I thought it was at one of the casinos. A high number of vehicles are parked here. “Where are we? I thought we were going to a UFC fight at the MKM,” I ask, getting out of the car. A light breeze feathers through me, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand.
“No, it’s here. They call it the Underground.” He extends his hand for me to take. Even though we are not together, I take it. “They have different styles of fights for different groups. I’ve never been to one, but a client mentioned it.”
“As an attorney, are you here to bust them?”
Andrew smirks. “No, but I should. Then, be their attorney. It’s all about making money.”
I frown. Andrew can be a real ass. I’m still unsure what this is all about, but it doesn’t sound like it’s a legit place.
“I’m joking, Ney, I just thought it would be fun to see. Everyone talks about the Master of Disaster. I wanted to see what he’s all about.”
A couple of bulky men stand at the entrance. Andrew hands them an envelope with two passes in it. The second they let us in, there is a roar of people cheering, chanting, and booing.
“UFC is over. Boxing will start. The last one to box is The Master of Disaster. No photos or videos are allowed. What happens here stays here,” the guy says, stamping our wrist.
