Page 41 of Wild Hit
I plead the Fifth in my mind.
He continues, “So I just wanted to remind you of the consequences if you don’t do your part.”
Hope’s and Rose’s faces flash through my mind, first laughing during one of our margarita fueled girl’s nights in our living room, then being all lovey dovey with their men. And then a new scenario, one that hasn’t occurred. Them, crying and screaming because I ruined their lives.
I swallow hard enough that probably all Orlando can hear it.
Certainly my dad does. “Yes, there are consequences to your own actions. It’s never too late to learn that lesson, right?”
“I’ll file the application tomorrow first thing.”
“That’s not going to be enough now. How could it? I clearly can’t trust you.”
Now my brain’s scrambling. “Let’s make the announcement tomorrow as well. We can have an all employee meeting, or maybe do a press conference. Or what if we?—”
“I want you to marry Henry Vos.”
Silence.
Rather, crickets and frogs croaking in the background, and the rustling of light steps on grass somewhere behind me. Thena soft, little tug at my skirt. I glance over my shoulder at Marty and the concern etched in her face. She has no idea what this full conversation is about, but clearly she can sense that I’m screaming myself raw on the inside. I reach for her hand and face forward again, fixing my eyes on my car parked on the driveway.
“No,” I say, with surprising steel in my voice. “That’s not part of our deal. I just had to change my last name back to yours.”
“I’m afraid it is,” he counters back. “Allow me to jog your memory. In order for you to get your inheritance, as condition for revealing our kinship to the world, you were also to marry a man I approved of.”
My lungs stop working.
With the little amount of oxygen left in my brain, I rifle through our conversation in late March and there it is.
This was allegedly his way of sweetening the pot. Bile rushes up my throat and I drop my phone, clamping my hand against my mouth so I don’t barf churned ice cream all over the grass. My father’s tinny voice comes out of the device but I can’t make out what he’s saying. I’m too busy swallowing hard and catching my breath.
“Audrey?”
So caught in my own tragedy I am, that I don’t even realize my roommates have come back home until they appear in my field of vision. Rose is looking intently at me, as if that alone could pry the thoughts in my head for her to study them. Beside her, Hope looks at something behind me—Miguel. His voice echoes in my ears.
“Something’s wrong,” he says.
That’s the understatement of the century. A sob escapes from my throat.
“Dad?” Marty mumbles, and a telepathic message must be shared between the Machados. Next thing I know, they’re bundling me into their house, my roommates in tow.
Marty guides me to the couch and the second I sit is when I break down. Big, ugly sobs, and enough waterworks to drown myself.
“Oh, sugar. What’s wrong?” Hope asks, rushing to sit on my right and wrapping her arm around my shoulders.
Rose follows suit on my left. “Talk to us, Audrey. You need to let it out for your own sake.”
“I—I—” A wail interrupts me.
I hate that I’m making a scene but I can’t help it. The dam has broken and no matter how hard I try to patch it up, the torrent of emotions is too violent. I fold over myself, straight up weeping into my cheerful skirt.
The girls rub my back. Marty’s little hand brushes my hair. But when I finally lift up my head seeking oxygen, the one that’s in front of me is Miguel, kneeling with a glass of water in his hand.
“Here.” He offers it to me and I take it, at first drinking carefully until reflex kicks in and I chug the whole glass.
I collapse back against the cushions, leaning my head back to stare at the ceiling. Big, hot tears roll down my temples. A warm, calloused hand eases mine open and retrieves the empty glass. I wish he wouldn’t have pulled his hand away. I feel so cold right now.
“I screwed up,” I rasp out, sniffling. “Badly.”
