Chapter One
MARIA
I glance up at the wall clock, waiting for my phone to beep with a message from Juan telling me that he's ready to meet up. My best friend has been so busy lately that he always has to cancel whenever I ask to meet up. But this time, I texted telling him that the bills were on me and I had some news for him, which I wouldn't divulge unless he agreed to meet me at Diego's.
Tired of waiting, I get up from the couch where I'm slouched, picking up the overflowing laundry basket sitting in the middle of my living room and head for the laundry room where I stuff the clothes without sorting them, add detergent powder and set the washing machine timer to two hours. Just enough time to laze around.
Ever since I got fired from the shabby coffee shop I worked for downtown, I've been a shadow of myself.
The shrill sound of my ring tone reverberates through my apartment, and I run to my room and jump onto my bed, reaching for my phone and answering the call without looking at the caller ID.
"Mimi?" The voice washes over me, sending a chill down my spine. It's familiar yet distant, comforting yet eerie. I can't quite place it, but something about it feels off, and I suddenly feel so uneasy
"Who is this?" I croak.
"Mimi," the voice says again, as if trying to be sure who it is. Only one person calls me 'Mimi'. "It's Carlos, cariño".
I feel my throat tighten, and my airways are constricted.
"What the f**k do you want, Carlos?" I spit, anger thrumming in my veins.
"You and I both know what I want," I can imagine his perfect face spreading in a wide grin, his perfect white teeth on display and I Immediately shake my head to get the picture out of my head.
"You need to come back to me, Cariño". I roll my eyes, irritated at the way my heart flutters and the buzzing in my stomach.
"Don't ever call me again Carlos", Barking through gritted teeth, I hang up and toss my phone across the bed running my hand roughly over my face in frustration.
I suddenly don't feel like going out again. I just want to lay in bed all day and I silently pray and hope that Juan gives a negative response this time like he always does. I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, concentrating on the whirring and humming of the washing machine while absent-mindedly studying the designs on the ceiling.
With a stabbing pain in my chest, I think about when Carlos would hold me against his chest, run his hands along my back, trace his fingers on my lips before gently planting a kiss on them causing a shiver to run down my spine and my legs to weaken. I think about when he would thrust into me, his fingers deep in my moist hair, his lips tracing dips along a path from my neck down to my belly, causing me to make beautiful sounds and scream and yell at the top of my voice.
Carlos Ramirez is my ex- boyfriend whom I dated for 8 months, and those were the best 8 months of my life. But the relationship turned sour when I found out that Carlos was into some shady criminal activities, which could potentially put my life and his on the line. I started to look over my shoulder whenever I was walking on the streets, and I yelped and got startled at the slightest noise I heard because I expected someone to come from behind me and take me hostage or strangle the life out of me. Carlos got pissed when he saw that I was acting differently, and he decided that if I couldn't trust him and if I was going to continue that way, we should call it quits.
I didn't give it a second thought when I turned and walked out his door without looking back because I didn't want to continue living my life with fear. It's been one year since the break up and while my life hasn't particularly been butterflies and sunshine, I have lived with peace and the assurance that I'd not be taken hostage by some bad men one day.
Or maybe not.
Now, I wonder why he's calling me and what he wants from me. I definitely still loved him when I walked out that door and even though I've had a few flings and no real relationships since the breakup, I still love him and this call has thrown me off balance, causing me to think and excessively ponder on why he called me. I think about how his husky voice sounded when he said my name.
Then my phone buzzes, snapping me out of whatever daydreaming I'm about to start right now.
I moan and groan and huff and puff before reluctantly reaching across to where I flung my phone, looking at the screen and seeing that there's a text from Juan.
"Hola, Chiquita. I just got off work. Are you still up for some tostatadas at Diego's?"
Thinking of what to write back, my fingers dance on the screen of my phone. Diego's is the only place in America that makes the best Mexican food, and I would never trade their food for anything else, so I write, "Sure. Be there in 20".
Without checking for a reply from Juan, I fling my phone onto the bed, and it bounces off and lands on the plush rug with a soft plop. I drag myself off the bed and taking my time, I change out of the sweatpants and tank top I have on, throwing on a pair of jeans and selecting another tank top from my closet.
I pop my head into the laundry room and see that the machine will be running for another 54 minutes so I put on a pair of sneakers, grab my phone and purse and head out, making sure to lock the door behind me oblivious to the drastic turn of events the day is going to take.
