Page 82 of Thicker Than Water

“I’ll let you know. I’ll see what the lawyer I spoke to before says,” she responds, through a yawn.

“If you could write the answer to your problem, what would it be. If you could have anything you wanted?” I ask after a few minutes.

“I’d be an American citizen.”

* * *

I’m at my parents’ for breakfast, replaying the conversation I had with Lucía last night. My mother’s voice interrupts my thoughts.

“Reece, you haven’t graced our breakfast table on a weekday in over a year. To what do we owe the pleasure?” She asks as she and my father come into their dining room.

I feel a twinge of guilt. I stand up to kiss her and to give my father a hug. “I know, guys. I’m sorry. You know how life gets.” They sit down on either end of the table and it feels like I’m back in high school. I look at both of them before my eyes settle on my father. “I need your help.”

I drove back to LA after Lucía fell asleep. I left her a note telling her I’d call her later. On the drive here, I’d replayed the entire evening. Her aunt and uncle’s fuckery. Her mother’s hard truths. Me fucking her against the car yesterday. Trying to fuck away our fear, trying to say with my body what I couldn’t with my words. I need her. And she needs me. I’ve let her down so far. I’ve buried my head in the sand about this issue, thinking that this love would insulate us. Or that my money and influence might be enough to protect her.

Yesterday, I watched real life puncture holes in the little bubble of avoidance I’d been living in. I’m glad my illusions have been destroyed, because they’ve rendered me useless when she really needed me. I wasn’t prepared for any of what happened yesterday. Lucía took hits on all sides yesterday, and all I’d done was watch.

“Not every day that you ask me for that, son. Tell me what you need.” My dad puts his coffee cup down and folds his hands on top of the table. He doesn’t smile at me, because he knows that whatever this is, it’s not something to smile at.

“It’s Lucía,” I say and his brow furrows.

“Things not working out?” my mother asks from her end of the table.

I glance at her, not hiding my irritation. “Sorry to disappoint you, Mom, but we’re fine.”

She actually looks affronted. “Reece! Is that what you think? That I’d take delight in you being unhappy? Never. Yes, I don’t believe you’re well-suited. I would have liked to see you with someone who understands our world. But I know you love her—”

“She’s the love of my life,” I interrupt her, not wanting the conversation to go off the rails.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Her uncle tried to blackmail us yesterday. He wants money or he’ll reveal her status,” I say quickly.

I look at my father and he and my mother are looking at each other. They’re having a silent conversation. Clearly this has been something they’ve thought about.

“Yes, we figured things like that would start happening. This is an easy one to dismiss, but…” My father sighs. “I warned you. And it’s only going to get worse.”

“I know you warned me. You were right. You can say I told you so. But I need to figure out to how to make this right.”

They exchange another glance.

“She needs to see a lawyer,” my mother says. “But, Reece, honey, you have to be very sure that this woman is what you want. Things could get ugly before they get better.”

“What could get ugly?” Coco says as he saunters into the living room.

“Nothing.” I’d forgotten he was living here again. He’d been driving some of our other talent since he’d been re-assigned from Lucía, and I hadn’t seen him in months.

The conversation is over. I look at my parents and say, “Thanks for the chat, guys, I have to get going.”

“Oh, don’t leave on my account. How’s Lucía? I hear you’re tapping that these days,” Coco says with a shit eating grin on his face.

“Coco, don’t be so crass,” my mother admonishes. My father though doesn’t say anything, but I can see him looking at Coco with disappointment in his eyes. He

loves Coco like a son. He’s his brother’s only surviving child. But I can see that Coco’s general state of being a fuck up is starting to weigh on him.

“You’re lucky that I’m tired and that I don’t really give a shit about what you think,” I say as I stand up.

“Yeah, Reece, I’m really lucky,” he scoffs and rolls his eyes.

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