Page 97 of Dead Set on You
“Rafael said you were by the empty seat. Says he’s sorry he can’t keep you company.” I startle at the sound of Lupe’s voice. She’s gazing to my right, talking to no one.
One of the bartenders narrows his eyes in question, but Lupe points to an AirPod in her ear and tells him to go pour drinks. He listens, pumping the shaker in his hands. Her bossiness makes me smile.
“Rafael hates celebrating his birthday, but this year has been a hard one for him, and he’s done so much for me. I figured this was the least I could do.” She pours gin, champagne, and juice into a crystal tumbler. “This place wouldn’t exist without him. I mean, it’s his baby.” Lupe grins as she stirs the drink, her cheek dipping into a dimple. I want to ask her what she means.
Desperately trying to hear every word over the music, I lean in. “It only took years to drag him away from Media Lab. No offense, but it sounds like literal hell having to go into an office and be in meetings and shit all day. Don’t get me wrong, but it seems like you were a little bit of a cabrona.” Lupe winces. “If you’re here, sorry, but that’s the truth. Yet for some reason he stayed there longer than anyone expected—and that includes him. Neither of us stuck to anything we didn’t like for too long, so him choosing office life for so many years was crazy and made it hard to get him to leave. And when I finally succeeded in convincing him to jump ship, your accident happened, and it was all put on hold. Again.”
Lupe tosses a lemon slice into the drink and slides it across the bar to a woman whose pink lips curl into a smile almost as big as her teased hair. Alma from tango lessons at the senior center.
Dressed in a fitted magenta outfit, she lifts the glass up in a toast and sashays to the dance floor with swinging hips.
“I know I said I didn’t want to help you, but he’s better now that he’s around you—or your spirit,” Lupe adds. “It’s gotten him out of the dark place he was in this past week. For a minute, I didn’t think I’d get him back, so if you can hear me, please, try to stick around. Yeah?” She slaps the bar. “Now, I’ve got a party to rile up!”
She leaves me for a group of women who shout at her to come and take a selfie. Lupe obliges, ducking beneath the bar to join them and leaving me to make sense of her words.
I stare after her, questions buzzing louder than the music.
Rafael leaving Media Lab? The accident changing his plans? Maybe because of me? These bits of information have me wanting to asksomany questions, needing to know more and more, at the worst possible time.
I peer up at the ceiling.If you’re up there, I’m seriously ready to come back.
Nothing happens. Except for Pitbull’s singing splitting my eardrums as he encourages the crowd togive him everything tonight.
Wistfully, I eye the dance floor, where everyone from Alma to Rafael’s pregnant sister shakes and grooves to the beat. Rafael’s spinning his mom. Harry and Gianna bump hips and laugh.
Tucking the questions and my desperation away, I separate from the bar and find a semi-empty corner to watch from, hating the music for the way it sharpens the pain at the base of my skull. I pretend it’s not there.
Guests continue to fill the bar. Rafael is animated as he talks to them. Charm mode engaged—and it makes me smile, because being Vela’d isn’t the crime I thought it was. Far from it.
Rafael scans the crowd, and I know he’s looking for me. His grin is almost blinding (another vampiric trait?), and he picks up a shot glass. I toast with an invisible glass.
A “Cheers!” booms from the crowd around him as they down their shots. I shudder.
The last time I drank … was the last time I was physically with Rafael. The memory is still hazy, but I remember being so angry at him for breaking Dana’s Doctrine, because we had an account to win. Cyril and OhLaLove had consumed so much of the past year, but none of it has mattered these past few days … because none of it is important. Not to the extent I thought for so long. Too long.
And everything else that was actually important and worth my blood, sweat, and checklists? I put off or ignored—and I might never have a chance to remedy things.
The notion hits me like a jab to the throat, knocking the air out of me. Making me feel like I can’t suck in a steady breath. I know I need to get out of here before I ruin Rafael’s special day with my impromptu pity party.
“And now, honored guests, we invite our birthday boy to the stage for cake and speeches,” the DJ announces. The crowd cheers. I startle.
Rafael shouts, “No speeches! Please!”
Harry nudges Rafael to the front of the dance floor, and Lupe comes to finish the deed, threading her arm through his and pulling him through the parting crowd.
The DJ hands Lupe the mic. She beams at the crowd, waiting for everyone to quiet. “One speech only. Only one that matters!” The crowd laughs. “I’ll keep things short and sweet so we can get back to the party.”
She pumps her fist in the air; someone agrees with an enthusiastic “Whoop!”
“For those of you who live in a hole or under a rock, Raffi is like the brother I never had. Just kidding. I have a bigger brother,” she says, peering into the crowd. “He’s the chef tonight, so make sure to tell him how terrible the food is.” Again the crowd laughs. “All joking aside, Raffi is one of the coolest dudes, family or no family, and I wouldn’t be here without him. Literally. He was there at my lowest, and I’m celebrating with him at my best.” She laughs along with everyone, but emotions strain her voice. “When he said he’d be down with my idea of starting a tequilería-slash-bar, I didn’t believe him, but then he showed up and helped me bring it together, not only as a cousin but as a business partner.”
My jaw unhinges from its sockets as more puzzle pieces click into place.
“So … tonight isn’t only his birthday, it’s also the soft launch of La Clandestina. Enjoy the party. Try the tequila. And let’s have fun celebrating my favorite human!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVEELEVEN DAYS AFTER (LATE, LATE NIGHT)
This is Rafael’s bar and Rafael’s tequila.
