The Billionaires Wrong Wife: the Solano sisters

MARA My phone wakes me up at 7:45am. My shift ended by 3am and I haven’t even had reasonable sleep. I groan and mute it but it rings again. On the fourth ring, I pick up and pull it to my ears. “This better be important,” I say groggily into the speaker, eyes still closed. “Mara Solano?” A male voice comes out the speaker. “Yeah who’s asking?” I say absentmindedly. “This is Detective Conrad.” My eyes shoot open. Fuck. “Wrong number,” I say in a hurry trying to end the call. I can’t have another encounter with a police officer. “It’s about about your sister,” he adds and I pause. “What about Vera?” I sit up. “We would like you to come to the police station.” “What? Why? I’m innocent— I didn’t—” “Ms. Mara, you’re not in trouble. There’s been a murder—” **** EIGHT HOURS AGO The club is loud in a way that becomes white noise after the third hour. I can feel the bass at the back of my teeth. The lights accentuate every movement as I glide around the room with a smile pasted on my face.. It’s almost midnight and to say I'm exhausted is an understatement. "Table four needs another round," Marcus shouts, appearing at my elbow. He's a pain in my ass, but he gave me this job six weeks ago, and I can't complain; jail time dented my chances in the job market. "But table four has had enough," I narrow my eyes at the table in question, then back to him. "Table four is spending enough." He waves me away and I grab a tray and more bottles of beer. The thing about serving drinks at a club is that you see everything and nobody sees you. I know which of the men at table seven is lying to his wife. I know the couple in the corner booth had a fight in the car and are performing reconciliation for each other's benefit. I know a certain regular customer who never sits with the same woman twice. Mr Gonzalez. It's none of my business but I find all of it deeply interesting. Vera always said I noticed too much for someone who claimed not to care. I actually don’t care. I deliver the round to table four, smile at the man who tips well and dodge the hand of the man who doesn't. “Mara,” Mr. Gonzalez waves me over. Of course. I walk over to his table, trying not to scrunch my face at the sight of him. He’s shaped like a thumb and always arrives with a different woman hanging off his arms. Apparently, he has one for each day of the week. How they’ve never found out about each other is questionable. Tonight’s model smiles at me. “The usual,” he says, grinning. “And for the lady?” I ask. “I’ll have a Negroni.” I almost snicker. “You’re going to have to upgrade your taste in men…I mean clubs for that,” I smirk towards Mr Gonzalez then turn back to her, “We don’t make those here.” Mr Gonzalez laughs too loudly. ”Does Marcus know you insult customers?” “Does the lady know she’s girlfriend number seven?” Silence. The woman's smile drops and Mr. Gonzalez pales. She stands and walks away. “Ooops,” I say. “Stay out of my business Mara,” Mr Gonzalez glares at me. “Same or I’ll have a meeting with the rest of them.” He narrows his eyes at me and follows her, no doubt with some cooked-up lie to get her back. There’s an eighty percent chance he might succeed. I shake my head. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I take it when I'm behind the counter again. “Where are you?” Vera’s voice cuts through the loud noise of the club. Shitt… I pull the phone from my ear and only now notice the caller ID. Too late now. "Short break," I say to Marcus. He narrows his eyes but I'm already moving outside. The back exit opens onto an alley that smells like s**t. The air hits me cold and I welcome it. "Saint Michael's church," I answer. "I’m serious Mara and you don't even believe in God," she says. "Way to state the obvious, Vee." I roll my eyes, imagining her doing the same. "Are you at the club again?" I consider my options but she doesn't let me answer. My silence is enough answer. “You promised me you were going to stop.” I did, actually, but in my defence – I work here. I can’t let her know that though. She would only reroute the lecture on how it doesn’t make any difference, and I’m not ready to explain to her how lucky I was to get this one. “Did you call just to give me another lecture?” “No.” she pauses, “I’m getting married.” “What…arghh.” A cyclist wheezes past me, knocking the air from my lungs and shoving me to the wet ground. “You f*****g asshole!!!” I shout after the man running down the alley. “I hope your ass gets stuck on a public toilet seat!” I aim my middle finger at his receding back. I pick myself up, my bottom half now soaked. Great!!! “Hello? … Helloooo? … Mara … Maraaaa!” Shitt… My phone. I search around me as Vera’s voice cuts through the thick air. I grab it from where it fell near a dumpster. “What do you mean you’re getting married?” “Mara? …Oh God …are you alright? Are you hurt?” “ I’m fine,” I grit, “ Some fucker nearly ran me over. Explain yourself” Vera goes completely silent. I hear her move something. “I need you to listen to me. You need to go home right now,” she says. “Are you being serious right now? Three years.” I raise my voice, “Three f*****g years of nothing and you just drop a bomb and want to waltz past it?” “That’s not…Look, I’m free this weekend, so I’ll come over there so we can talk about it but I need you home.” I scoff. “Who’s he?” I ask. “What?” “You heard me Vera, who the f**k is he?” She pauses and after a long moment she speaks. “Callum… Ashford.” Wait what??? “Have you lost your mind?” I raise my hands above my head as if I’m speaking directly at her. “It’s not what you think,” she bites back. “What I think? You’re getting married to the family that killed mom.” “That’s not —” she stops and her voice drops into the background, talking to someone I can’t hear. “Vera?” "We’ll talk tomorrow, I promise." Her voice comes in hurried beats before the line goes dead. I try again but it goes straight to voicemail. **** EIGHT HOURS AFTER “What do you mean there’s been a murder?” My voice comes out in hurried beats as I push up from my bed and start pacing. When he speaks, I'm not ready. “I'm sorry but your sister is dead.” The line goes off.