Page 57 of The Slayer
“I did it.” Jules put a hand to her chest. “This is gonna be the best party you’ve ever been to in your whole dang life.”
“It already is. Best party ever.”
Chapter Sixteen
Chuito leaned against the wall outside the Cellar, staring out into the parking lot, unable to hide his scowl. He took a sip of his beer and looked at the road, as if he could somehow will the right car to pull into the Cellar.
The door opened, and Chuito glanced to see who it was.
“Hey, Jules,” he said as he went back to staring at the road.
“How much was in the card?”
“What?” He turned back and frowned at her.
“The card. The one you gave Alaine. How much was in it?”
“Is that your business?” Chuito arched an eyebrow at her. “I can give my neighbor a graduation gift without asking your permission.”
“How much, Chuito?” Jules asked rather than give in.
“Jules, no. You don’t always get what you want.”
“She’s naive. If you’re toying with her—”
“Back off, mamá bear,” Chuito said sharply. “I’m not fucking her.”
“She cares for you,” Jules whispered. “And someone like Alaine—”
“I know.” Chuito heaved a big sigh of frustration. “Trust me. Anything you’re gonna say to me is not gonna be any harsher than what I say to myself every day. I promised you I wouldn’t touch her. I meant it.”
Jules rolled her eyes and glanced out to the road. Then she dropped her arms at her sides and growled, “Who invited him?”
Chuito followed her line of sight to see a sleek black BMW pull into the parking lot. He let out a relieved breath and admitted, “I did.”
“What?” Jules hit his arm twice as hard as she had inside. “He will ruin her day!”
“No.” Chuito shook his head. “He won’t. He needs to be here. Alaine needs to see him here.”
“He is an asshole,” Jules hissed, her voice dropping when a car door opened. “He is a narrow-minded prick. He hates you worse than anyone. I guarantee you hehatesyou.”
“He should hate me,” Chuito said with a look at Jules.
“You said you weren’t fucking her,” Jules snapped at him in the low, furious snarl of an angry mother. “You told me—” She turned back before she finished and said in an ice-cold voice, “Reverend Richards.”
Chuito stared at Alaine’s father. He wore a suit like he always did whenever Chuito had seen him around town. It was clean and pressed—the same dark navy blue Alaine often wore because it brought out her eyes. His hair was a few shades darker red than his daughter, thick and styled away from his face.
He wasn’t a tall man.
He wasn’t muscular.
He was slight like Alaine, but there was always this big presence around him, like he knew people listened when he spoke. Arrogant and elegant, the kind of gringo who made Chuito nervous. The kind of man Chuito would have stolen a car frombecausehe made him nervous.
“Someone sent this,” the reverend said, holding out the card Chuito had mailed.
Jules opened her mouth as she looked at it.
Before she could respond, Chuito said, “Did you do that, Jules? You mailed out the invitations.”
