Page 5 of The Collector
She fought to maintain control of her bags and keep her phone balanced on her shoulder at the same time, while using them as a block against the blasts of cold air that howled in through the openings of the concrete walls of the structure. She barely managed when she added the third task of looking for her keys to the balancing act.
She pressed her phone harder to her ear, lifting her shoulder to keep it from falling.
"Hold on a second, mama— let me find my keys."
"No problem— take your time, Mija. I'll still be here when you're ready."
Frantically, she rummaged through her purse looking for them. She could never seem to find what she needed in this damn thing. She wasn't sure why she used it. It was a black hole. Finally, she fished them out of her purse.
The lights in the garage began to flicker, causing her to become hyper-aware of her surroundings as she made her way to the almost-new Audi A4 at the far end of the garage. It almost felt like she was being watched. The sensation made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
"Sorry, Mama, I didn't mean to keep you waiting, but you caught me in the elevator on my way to the car. My hands are full, and this garage gives me the creeps."
"Bueno, so tell me about the outfit. Did you find the perfect? What did you call it again? Power suit?"
Erica chuckled softly. "Yeah, I did! I found a great dark gray charcoal jacket and pencil skirt. Very sophisticated."
"And what about the blouse and shoes? Tell me the colors you picked!"
"It's a deep, blood-red," Erica said, smiling. "The blouse is gorgeous—elegant, great fabric—and I got it for half off! The shoes, though…" She giggled. "Let's just say they weren't exactly a bargain."
"Mija, that's so bold. Are you sure red's the way to go?"
Erica rolled her eyes. She wasn't surprised by the question; her mother's style leaned toward classic, neutral colors.
"Yes, Mama— red is a power color. I want to look powerful and capable. This is officially the most expensive outfit I own. I had to stretch every penny to cover it, but I know it will help me land the contract."
"Well, you are smart and capable. If you think red's the way to go, I say go for it. You deserve the shoes, too— Mija. You've worked incredibly hard to reach this point. I'm so proud of you. I'm also grateful to Mrs. Halliburton for arranging this meeting. She's always been good to us. Don't worry about the cost of the shoes; if you get into a financial bind, just let me know. I'm always here if you need me."
Erica could hear the pride in her mother's voice. Her heart tightened around the quiet residue of years they never talked about; of the years they struggled through.
"Thank you, Mama. I know—and how could I ever forget? You're right, Mrs. Halliburton really is a fairy godmother. It's like she's always conjuring something magical just for me. If Iget the job, I'm making dinner for both of you. Celebrations on me."
"If? No, Mija—you must believe it's already yours. God will make it happen. How do I know? Because you love Him, and He loves you. That's enough." Erica could almost see her mother's fingers curling around the cross at her neck, the gesture as familiar as breath.
"I know, Mama, you're right. Now, you've checked on me. I'm fine, but you shouldn't worry about me so much. Now, why don't you get to bed, huh? I'll call you. Right after the meeting in the morning."
"Está bien. Te amo, Mija. Don't forget to call, okay? Por favor! And drive like you've got a mother who prays too much. Text me when you get home—I'll check first thing."
The words wrapped around Erica like a quilt stitched with love.
Glancing at her phone as she hung up, she noted the time—10:30 PM.
The sudden screech of tires caught her attention as a car sped around the corner from the level above, descending in a blur. The gust of wind from its passing sent trash skittering across the concrete floor in a chaotic ballet before it settled again. She sighed at the sight—it might not be pristine, but this was still the best mall Culver City had to offer.
She moved swiftly across the exit lane.
Growing up, her mother had always emphasized the importance of being vigilant when alone. A cautious woman by nature, she had instilled that same awareness in her.
Her mother had been raised in poverty in a Mexican barrio just outside Tijuana. At seventeen, she fell in love with her father, who was a low-level boss for the Cordoba Kings—one of the largest cartels in the area. When she was twelve, he'd been found murdered on a desolate dirt road on the outskirts of town.The Kings never found his killer. It was why her mother worried so much.
His death left them both scared, afraid of the violence of the world.
She pressed the unlock button on her key fob, hearing the car chirp softly as she approached. She placed her shopping bags in the back seat. Tomorrow's meeting with the owners of Cordoba & Cordoba Enterprises was yet another opportunity made possible by her mother's dedication.
Smirking with a childlike smile, she reached for the driver's side door, only to recoil as her fingers pressed into something squishy and gel-like.
"Eww! Gross! What the hell is this?"
