Page 33 of Girls Night
I take a deep breath and look at my new, unwelcome friend from head to toe.
His black hair is cut shaggily, the light blue pools of ice blue that he’s returning my curious look through are wide. They betray the innocence he’s attempting to portray because I can see the demons swimming in them. The pale complexion of his skin, marred by so many bright, elaborate designs … this man doesn’t belong in Navolato. Hell, I don’t think he even belongs on this fucking planet.
He’s playing with monsters that are much too strong for him to withstand, as evident by the way he keeps rubbing the bridge of his nose, and that tells me one thing.
He’d make one hell of a customer for Papa or maybe even a runner.
Or…
“So, have her,” I say to him as I suck my teeth. I reach into my bra and pull out a wad of bills. Licking my thumb, I count out one hundred pesos and toss it on the bar top next to his elbow.
With a laugh, he takes the money and gets to his feet, “I have a better idea. And I’ll get us a better price. Wait here.”
Us?
I blanch at his choice of words.
What the fuck does he mean us?
I haven’t known him for more than ten minutes, have done my best to get rid of him by giving him the money to purchase the girl he has his eyes on, and he thinks that there will be more?
I take another swig of my beer. Turning in my stool, I place the empty bottle down, waving the bartender over.
“Want another?” he asks me, and I shake my head.
I place twenty pesos on the bar top and roll my neck on my shoulders. “Stay here. Watch that Gringo and tell me every move he makes,” I tell him in a low, threatening tone.
He nods because he’s afraid of me like most men are, though sometimes I think it’s more that they’re scared of what Papa can have done to them instead.
The shock for these penedejos usually comes when they realize that I’m El Señor’s best kept and deadliest secret outside of the narco-traffickers world.
I lower my eyes to my hands and begin to pick at my nail bed. It’s a nervous tick I’ve always had since childhood. It’s not that the Gringo makes me nervous; it's more wondering what Papa would think of me if I killed this pain in the ass without his blessing.
“Ahí viene,” the bartender warns me under his breath and tapping the side of my arm, eliciting a grunt from me. Glancing over my shoulder, I see that indeed the nuisance approaching with the girl that caught his eye, arms linked, and a smirk on his face.
“I thought you would have left by now,” I say when he’s within earshot. She’s of no consequence to me, so I keep my eyes on him as I turn on my stool and lean back against the bar.
“Not yet,” he says, the smirk on his lips widening slightly. “This is Daniela.” I nod at her and do my best not to roll my eyes when she rests her hand against his chest. The whores in this place work a little too hard at making everyone feel like they’re the only one for them. “And this is Sofi,” he says to her.
Daniela gives me a tight smile, and I suck my teeth.
“And?” I say to him as I give her a level stare. “What’s she got to do with me?”
“Not ‘me’,” he corrects with a chuckle, “us.”
I grit my teeth.
If I have to tell him that there is no us, I’ll break one of Papa’s rules, which is no violence unless he condones it.
So instead, I jut my chin out at him and wait as patiently as I can for him to continue.
“Anyway,” he continues as he holds a hand out toward me, “Daniela has a twin sister that works here too. Interested?”
I glance down at the shoes he’s wearing—something I should have done right away—before I let out a sigh and decide that maybe indulging his wild little fantasy would be a good way to pass the time.
Chapter Eleven
I don’t know if it’s his arrogance that made me agree to this or the way he seems to enjoy making me feel uncomfortable, but somehow, I manage to find myself on a bed between Daniela and Inez.
