Chills & Thrills: Three Novel Box Set (34 page)

"No problem."

"Great." Jay reached over and shook Alex's hand. About that time, a raven-haired girl wearing tight jeans and a halter top walked in and hung all over Jay.

"If you guys will excuse me, we would like some privacy. Hey, stay around, Alex, and have some fun. There's a bunch of cute girls downstairs by now.”

Alex nodded and walked out the door. He wanted to leave this place and return to his own neighborhood, where things were familiar. Even in this frat house's disheveled appearance and the kids with their hair longer than most on the fraternity row, Alex couldn't help but feel the gap between those who'd come from homes where parents passed out money seemingly without a care, and those who struggled on a daily basis to put food in the mouths of their children.

Coming down the stairs, he could see a group of girls standing around Hector. He couldn't believe it.

Hector, obviously wired, insisted, “Hey, come meet my new friends."

Alex nudged the girls aside and grabbed Hector by the shoulders.

"Easy, what you doing, man? Hang out, be cool, meet Treena over there," he said, pointing to a buxom blonde drinking a beer.

"What am I doing? What in hell are you doing?" Alex asked, amazed his friend had been coking up.

"I'm having a good time. You should too."

"You're high, man. I thought we agreed not to do this stuff. It's bad for business.”

"You're too uptight. A little toot now and then won't hurt nothing."

"Come on, we're going home." Alex pulled on Hector's arm.

“You go. I'm having a good time."

"I'm not going anywhere without you. Now let's go."

"Fuck you, man, I'm about to get lucky with one of these little babes, and I'm not about to let you ruin it. And if you weren't such a stupid square-ass, you'd join the fun,” Hector muttered, pushing Alex away.

Alex couldn't believe he was fighting with his best friend. Hector glared at him, his nostrils flaring like a wild horse.

"Hector, don't do this. I need to get home."

"Why? So your mama don't get mad at you? Man, you crack me up. You're one of the biggest dope dealers around here, and you're still worried about your mama. Fuck your mama, she'll get over it."

“You know what, Hector? You go do whatever you want. Get high, get laid, get stupid, I don't care.” With that, he turned around and walked away, holding back his anger, his tears, and his frustration — due not only to a bull-headed friend but to a life that he really didn't want to lead but knew that he was destined for.

*****

WHEN ALEX ARRIVED HOME IT WAS A LITTLE PAST MIDNIGHT
. Marta was waiting up for him. She stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips as he came through the door. "Where have you been? And don't you go telling me about the library, because I know you've been lying to me."

Alex stared at her in amazement.

"I know what you and Hector have been doing, Alejandro, and I can't believe my ears." Marta was torn between slapping him, hugging him, and crying. She'd been told earlier that day by a friend about Alex and Hector selling drugs, and they'd been doing it for several months now.

"What are you talking about, Mama?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," she answered him. She shook her finger at him. "I thought I raised you better than this, but I see you disappoint me. Selling drugs, for God's sakes. Alejandro, couldn't you have found something better?"

"Mama, I'm trying to make enough money to provide a better place for us."

"What. You think drugs are the answer? You break my heart. I can't believe you would do this."

Frustration and anger from years of working for a better life for her child who wanted to throw it away made Marta feel much older than her thirty-six years. She looked at her handsome son, thinking how much he looked like Antonio. Her disappointment was tremendous. Not only did he look like his father, but he also had the same kind of ethics as his father. She'd prayed her strong hold over him would have overcome any of the bad blood that ran through his veins. But staring at him now, she realized she'd obviously failed to save him from the fate of being Antonio Espinoza's son.

He'd lied to her about his job. When she'd found out the truth, she'd cried. Then anger set in upon discovering he wasn't home when she walked through the door after a hard day's work. Waiting up for him for a couple of hours gave her time to think about where she'd gone wrong. Maybe she should've ignored Antonio's deceit and moved to Colombia. Obviously, if her son was to be corrupt, he should've been able to do it in the lap of luxury his father wanted to provide them all those years ago.

The day she left Antonio behind for the second time in her life played through her memory. She'd made it out of the compound and had taken a cab to the airport, where she bought a ticket home with the money she'd taken from the dresser. Then she'd phoned Elisa and asked her to find a new place for her and Alejandro to live and to start packing for them.

“Why?” Elisa asked, her voice laden with fear.

“Please, do this. I wouldn't ask you for something so important if it weren't urgent. But it is. I'll explain everything later.” Once together, she told Elisa everything, who called her a stupid fool for running from a life that could provide everything she had ever dreamed and longed for, all because of one small lie.

She'd looked her friend in the eyes while drinking a cup of coffee and said, “At least when I wake up in the morning I feel good about myself, knowing that I have nothing to do with cheating or lying, killing or stealing. Antonio Espinoza cannot wake up with that same satisfaction. And I may live the life of a poor fool, but I'll find every piece of gold I could ever dream of waiting for me in the Kingdom of God.”

“Maybe so, but you're still a fool.”

Marta wondered now if her friend had been right, all these years.

 After she had returned to the States, she'd written Antonio a letter explaining why she and her and son couldn't live with a man who felt that lying to his wife and family was acceptable. She also made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that he wasn't to contact her or Alex. She considered him dead because of his blatant dishonesty. She knew it was harsh, but there could be no other way. And now she wondered, as she looked into her son's eyes, if she had to be as harsh with him as well.

"Sit down." She patted him on the knee as he sat down on the tattered, green sofa. "There's something I need to tell you, and I should have done so long ago. If I had, maybe you wouldn't be in this mess."

Alex gazed at her with a baffled look on his face, "What is it?"

"I don't know how to tell you this, so I'm just going to say it." Marta paused as anxiety caused her adrenaline to flow. "Your father wasn't a hero who died trying to save people in that earthquake."

"What?"

Marta could hear the amazement in his voice. His eyes grew round as he stared at her in disbelief. “In fact, he is not dead. He is still alive today.”

A gravelly sound escaped from the back of Alejandro's throat. "What are you telling me?"

Marta told him bits and pieces of the ugly story. She left out the part about when she'd stayed with Antonio after Lydia had died, and how she'd planned to move Alejandro and herself to Colombia to live with him until she'd discovered that living a life with Antonio would be living a lie to her people. She also left out the part about when Antonio visited so many years ago.

“Please understand, Alejandro, I couldn't stay with your father. If I'd known he was married, I never would've been with him in the first place.”

Alex held up his hand. "I don't want to hear any more. I can't believe this. You lied all this time, and he deserted me. You say he even knows where we lived and used to send us money. But he never came to see me. What kind of man is he? I don't understand this. You mean we don't have to be living here in this dump, but we do because you are too proud to live an 
ugly life
, as you say — taking money from a guilty man who took you into his bed and left you to this horrible life where you work like a slave?"

The words sliced through Marta's heart like a jagged dagger. She bowed her head, choking back her tears. She reached over to hug Alex. "It wasn't like that at all. Your father and I loved each other very much. It's that sometimes people can't get past their differences.”

"He certainly didn't love you enough, and I can see he didn't care about me."

"Please, don't say that. Please."

"I don't want to know anymore. I'm going out for awhile." He stormed out of the door without looking back.

Marta ran to the door, crying in desperation, "I'm sorry, Alex. Come back. Don't go, please don't go." It was too late. She collapsed in the old rocking chair next to the fireplace, the same one she'd used to rock Alex to sleep in for many years. Her heart ached as she longed for those days once again.

She'd never felt so alone before, not even when she'd left Mexico for the first time. She knew she'd made a mistake telling Alex the truth. But the biggest mistake, she now realized, had been keeping the truth from him all along. Her lies were as bad as Antonio's.

 She longed to hold Alex and comfort the hurt she knew he was feeling, but she had no idea where he'd gone so she rocked herself rhythmically in the old rocking chair, until she finally drifted into a restless sleep.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

JAVIER THOUGHT OVER EMILIO'S PROPOSITION.
 
HE HAD MADE
 some good points. Maybe it 
was
 about time the business did expand. How could Antonio refute the case for making so much more money? After all, Antonio had always been greedy, but when Marta left him that second time, making it very clear that she and her son wanted nothing to do with him, Antonio had become hungrier for the almighty dollar. It was as if, in his mind, only buying all the goods in the world could make him happy.

Javier shook his head as he sat behind his desk going over his financial statements. It seemed that his second wife shared Antonio's philosophy, forever buying something, decorating this or that. She claimed to be bored at all times, and her complaining was beginning to drive him crazy. Her looks, once akin to Sophia Loren, had changed drastically, as she'd never lost thirty of the fifty pounds she'd gained during her pregnancy with their son, Stefan, who sadly enough had not brought their family together as she'd insisted he would. Instead his birth had driven quite a wedge between the two of them, which had begun the day she'd won the argument to send Bella and Miguel away, and now she constantly nagged him to have another child.

“That is really what we need, Carlotta. The children we already have, you send away to expensive schools. And you say you want another one?”

“I know why you won't have any more children,” she remarked as she paced back and forth, her hands on her richly clad hips. “It's because of Stefan. You're afraid I'll have another retard.”

“You selfish woman,” he yelled. “How 
can
 you speak of our son that way? He is not retarded. He's deaf. You certainly ought to know the difference, because there is a huge one. He is anything but stupid. He's extremely intelligent. I've spoken to his instructors at your expensive school for the deaf. They say that he is bright, and very popular with all the children and teachers.”

“What is your complaint then?”

“My complaint is that you, Carlotta, are an uncaring mother.”

“I certainly don't see any of our children complaining. Not even your own sweet Isabella who, from everything I've been told, is very happy she's in France.”

“The only reason those children like it better where they are is because they don't have to live with you. Unfortunately, I do. I wish you'd find 
me
 some school to go to!”

“That shouldn't be too hard to arrange. I'll send you to the school for the mentally incompetent.”

“That's it. Get out of here! You will not speak to me like that in my own home.”

“Fine, Lord and Master.” She'd stormed out of his office and hadn't spoken to him in days. This suited Javier fine. He had come to realize by now that the biggest mistake he'd ever made in his life was marrying her. Pedro had been right about Javier thinking with the wrong head when he'd put that damn ring on her finger. Lately, that particular head didn't seem to get much exercise, anyway. His reasons for marrying her turned out to be basically futile ones, except for the son their marriage produced.

He loved his son as much as he loved the estranged Bella, that is to say, with every fiber of his being. In a way, he was glad that Stefan was living in the United States, at a school in Texas where he was receiving the attention and special skills he would need in order to make it in such a difficult world.

As he was finishing going over his reports, Javier heard the front door open and the sound of Miguel's voice. “Hello, I'm home.”

Of course, Carlotta had stormed out of the house to go shopping, so Javier went to greet both him and Pedro, who had always been fond of the boy.

“Miguelito. Ah, look at you.” Javier smiled and held his arms out wide to embrace the young man he thought of as his own — and a man of God at that.

“Papa, I missed you,” Miguel responded, wrapping his arms around Javier. “And I missed you, too,” Miguel told Pedro.

“Come, sit down. You must be exhausted,” Pedro remarked as he slapped Miguel on the back.

“I am,” Miguel replied. He walked into the living room with them and sat down on the white leather sofa Carlotta recently purchased. “Where's Mama?”

“Out spending my money.”

“Some things never change,” he laughed. “I've missed this place so much.”

“How long are you staying?” Pedro asked, sitting down in a chair across from him.

“Not long. They're expecting me in a few days at St. Peter's Church. Believe me, if I could, I'd stay longer. But the Lord doesn't like to be kept waiting,” Miguel said with a chuckle. “I wish Bella were here.”

“We all do,” Javier replied.

“And Stefan, too.”

“Yes, but Christmas will be here before we know it, and we'll all be together again,” Javier said.

“But you're surely going to see Bella before then,” Miguel replied.

“I hadn't planned on it, unless she's making a surprise visit I'm not supposed to know about.”

“I thought you'd be going to see her next month, when she competes at the horse trials in Italy.”

“What?” Javier's mouth flew open. Isabella had never said a single word to him about a major horse trial event. She'd always let him know about her big events in the past, and he always made a huge effort to attend each one of them. He knew of her Olympic dreams and he supported her completely. He couldn't understand why she hadn't made him aware this time. Yes it was true that they weren't as close as they once were, but she'd always kept him abreast of how she was progressing with her riding. He sighed heavily.

“You mean, you didn't know?”

“No, we didn't,” said Pedro, answering for Javier, seeing the shock and disappointment in the old man's eyes.

“Oh, Papa, I'm so sorry. I assumed she'd written you about it when she wrote me. Once I received her letter, I called to let her know I would be coming back here, and going to work for the Church. She sounded a little upset. I was certain that she would want you to be there.”

“I don't know. I guess I don't know my daughter as well as I once thought I did.”

No one said anything. Javier looked out the large bay window to what now appeared to be an ominous sea. He knew Bella had drifted from his life, but he'd hoped he'd remained in her heart as she had in him. He'd rather die than consider that he'd lost his daughter forever.