I despise Federico. He made me dislike Thursday mornings—no, "despise" is the word. He's responsible for the glaring scowl on my face as I dress myself up, buttoning up the sky-blue Jean top to my chest, leaving a few buttons loose. It's always hot on the ranch, and breathing is important. Silently, I pray that Federico gets into a little accident and won't be able to make it to the meeting.
He leads one of our major sub-gangs in the United States, and he's the most infuriating, annoying, disgusting, sick, and deranged being I've ever met. But his name is among those I'm not allowed to get rid of. Apparently, he holds a huge share in the organization. A sexist who is low on love and s*x—that's what he is.
Grunts of frustration escape my mouth. My auburn curls are beautiful, but when it c
