Framing Felipe (17 page)

Finally,
he
nodded
and
selected
two
of
each
utensil.

FRAMING FELIPE
–
65
–
Holley Trent

She
grabbed
tongs
and
plucked
the
biggest,
juiciest
chicken
portions
out
of
the
tray.

In
a
near-‐whisper,
she
added,
“When
you’ve
got
to
keep
a
lot
of
secrets…”
She
used
two

cloth
napkins
to
cover
the
heaping
mounds
of
food.
“…you
trust
few
people.
You
know

that.”

He
nodded.
“I…I
do.”

“Well,
Eric
wins
by
default
because
he’s
Astrid’s
brother.
He
cares
about
all
of
our
sorry

asses.
Too
nice
for
his
own
good,
probably.”

Felipe
at
the
far
end
of
the
great
room’s
table
seemed
poised
to
deposit
their
utensils

onto
the
top.

“Wait…”
she
said.
“Not
here.”

He
looked
up
at
her,
his
expression
quizzical.

The
small
room
had
filled.
There
were
already
eight
people
standing
about
waiting
to

serve
themselves.

Felipe
didn’t
seem
bothered
by
it,
but
to
Sarah,
it
was
as
if
she’d
been
dropped
into
the

middle
of
a
stampede.
She
didn’t
know
these
people.
Didn’t
trust
them.

An
older
woman
smiled
as
she
walked
past
and
said,
“Glad
this
heat
wave
is
letting
up
a

bit,
aren’t
you?”

Sarah
returned
her
smile,
weakly,
and
managed
a
high-‐pitched
“Mm-‐hmm,”
in

response,
nodding
her
head
too
fast,
too
franticly.

An
elderly
man
followed
the
woman,
saying,
“She’s
never
been
much
for
the
heat.”
He

winked
at
Sarah
and
rested
a
hand
on
her
shoulder.

She
flinched,
but
fixed
her
face
before
the
man
could
take
offense.
She
could
see
Felipe

in
her
peripheral
vision,
moving
closer.

Good.
A
buffer.
She
shifted
her
weight
to
the
other
hip
and
flexed
her
tired
wrists,
which

had
become
stressed
from
the
weight
of
the
dinner
plates.

The
man
droned
on,
his
hand
still
on
her
shoulder,
squeezing.
“I
remember
when
I
was

kid
and
it
was
hot
like
this—”

Felipe
stepped
in
and
grabbed
the
plates.
“
Querida,
estás
cansada.
Vamos.
”

Her
mouth
opened
then
closed
without
a
word
as
she
fixed
on
Felipe’s
gaze.

What’s
wrong
with
me?
Brain
is
like
cotton.

Felipe’s
lips
parted
once
more.
“¿
Querida,
estás
bien
?”

FRAMING FELIPE
–
66
–
Holley Trent

She
could
hardly
make
sense
of
the
words.
The
only
things
that
seemed
significant
in

the
universe
at
that
particular
moment
were
Felipe’s
lips.
His
mouth.
Tongue.

She
swallowed
the
lump
in
her
throat.

“¿
Querida
?”
He
nudged,
now
insinuating
himself
so
close,
the
older
man
dropped
his

hand.

She
gave
a
long
blink
and
blew
out
a
ragged
exhale.
Play
along.
Smiling
at
the
stranger,

she
apologized.
“Uh.
Lo
siento.
”

The
man
covered
his
belly
with
his
hands
and
chuckled.
“Honey,
you
don’t
speak

English?
Just
as
well.
My
wife
says
I
don’t
half
speak
English,
either.”

He
laughed
again
at
his
own
joke,
damn
near
wheezing.

His
wife
intervened.
“Lord,
don’t
talk
those
folks
to
death.
Come
on
and
fix
your
plate.”

Sarah
offered
the
stranger
an
apologetic
little
smile
as
she
backed
away,
and
pried
the

utensil
rolls
from
beneath
Felipe’s
arm.
Still
playing
along,
she
wrapped
her
arm
around
his

waist
and
him
guide
her
to
the
staircase.
They
climbed
them
without
her
paying
much

attention
to
the
rises
and
runs,
and
then
they
were
in
front
of
a
room
that
must
have
been

theirs.
Felipe’s
backpack
hung
on
the
knob.

Sarah
grabbed
the
bag,
and
tried
the
knob.
The
doors
were
usually
unlocked
when

guests
weren’t
in
their
rooms.
The
old
locks
didn’t
work
well
with
their
keys
anymore.
Most

guests,
fortunately,
were
civilized
enough
not
to
steal.

She
pushed,
and
the
door
swung
inward,
and
let
Felipe
stride
ahead
to
set
the
dishes
on

the
small
table.

Sarah
lingered
in
the
doorway
holding
Felipe’s
bag,
taking
account
of
the
mauve
shag

carpet
she
hadn’t
paid
much
attention
to
before.
The
walls
were
a
dusky
pink
color
plucked

from
the
floral-‐print
wallpaper
border’s
1980’s
palette.
That
had
been
the
last
update
to

the
décor,
and
Eric
knew
a
makeover
was
overdue.
He
had
one
planned
for
summer.

There
was
no
overhead
light,
only
a
thirty-‐year-‐old
bronze
floor
lamp
that
leaned

precariously
into
the
far
corner
behind
the
single
wingback
chair,
so
Felipe
strode
over
and

clicked
it
on.
He
next
sunk
into
the
chair
and
made
quick
work
of
removing
his
shoes.

She
hadn’t
noticed
how
dated
the
place
was
before.
She
probably
shouldn’t
have
been

paying
too
much
attention
to
it,
but
Felipe’s
presence
was
giving
her
pause
where
she

FRAMING FELIPE
–
67
–
Holley Trent

normally
would
have
had
action.
Normally,
she
would
have
sat
and
ate,
décor
be
damned.

But
him
being
there
made
her
watch
and
wait
for
his
next
move.

“Come
in,
querida
.”
He
tossed
his
shoes
beside
the
chair
and
made
a
come
here
gesture

with
his
hands.

“You
don’t
have
to
call
me
that.
I
know
it
was
just
a
front
for
that
guy.”

She
nudged
their
bags
inside
and
pushed
the
door
closed
over
the
carpet’s
high
pile.

She
wondered
what
Eric
planned
to
replace
the
shag
with
as
she
locked
the
door.

“You
think
I
can
stop
now
that
I’ve
started?
It
just
slips
off
my
tongue.
If
it
offends
you,

I’ll
try
harder.”

“No,
not
offended…”

“
Estupendo.
”
He
stood
and
loped
to
the
dresser,
grabbed
one
of
the
plates,
and
sat
with

it
on
the
edge
of
the
bed.

She
figured
she
might
as
well
follow
in
suit.
She
felt
dumb
standing
there
by
the
door
as

if
he
was
going
to
do
her
some
harm.

She
pulled
back
the
old
flannel
curtains
and
took
stock
of
their
position
in
the
inn.
A

relieved
sigh
escaped
her
lips.
They
faced
the
front
lot,
and
not
the
woods.
She’d
never
been

afraid
of
the
dark
and
the
thoughts
of
bogeymen
didn’t
scare
her.
After
all,
she
was
one
of

those
monsters,
in
a
way.
But
she’d
been
on
high
alert
for
so
many
weeks
on
end,
she
was

having
a
hard
time
coming
down.
Everything
was
putting
her
on
edge.
Sleeping
with
the

woods,
teeming
with
unknown
threats,
abutting
their
room
seemed
to
be
asking
for
too

much.

Her
fingers
jiggled
the
locks,
testing
them
once,
twice,
ensuring
there’d
be
no
threat

from
outside,
then
she
let
the
curtains
fall.
When
she
turned,
Felipe
was
twirling
his
fork

between
his
long
fingers
and
watching
her.

“You
must
think
I’m
neurotic.”
She
moved
from
the
window,
stopping
halfway
between

the
food
on
the
dresser
and
the
bed.
Which
did
she
want
more?
Her
hand
flitted
over
her

belly,
idly,
as
she
took
stock
of
her
body.
Am
I
hungry?
Or
more
tired?

Tired
seemed
to
be
winning
the
battle,
but
she
should
eat
a
little
something.
While

undercover,
she
hadn’t
been
eating
well
or
sleeping
much.
There
hadn’t
been
time,
and
she

couldn’t
be
everywhere
at
once.
She’d
spent
more
hours
at
the
club
than
she’d
she

FRAMING FELIPE
–
68
–
Holley Trent

technically
been
on
schedule
to
work.
It
was
a
solo
gig,
so
that
meant
if
she
left,
there
would

have
been
no
one
else
to
watch
over
those
girls
and
women.

And
when
she
wasn’t
at
the
club,
she
had
infrequent
meetings
with
her
FBI
contact,
or

she’d
been
talking
to
people
in
the
community,
trying
to
extract
information
that
would

help
convict
the
club
owners.

She’d
been
a
perpetual
motion
machine,
and
now
she
felt
like
she
could
hardly
move
at

all.

She
blew
out
a
breath
and
dragged
her
tongue
over
dry
lips.
Finally,
she
grabbed
the

edge
of
the
second
plate
and
sat
next
to
Felipe
on
the
queen-‐sized
bed.

He’d
already
eaten
half
of
what
was
on
his
plate
in
that
short
time.

She
stared
at
her
full
plate,
and
found
nothing
appetizing
about
it.

Felipe
reached
across
his
body
and
nudged
some
hair
back
from
her
face.
He
said
in

Spanish,
“You
know,
this
is
the
longest
I’ve
ever
been
apart
from
my
brother.”

Oh,
yes.
Fabian.
The
cause
of
them
being
there
in
that
room
together
in
the
first
place.

She
heeled
off
her
boots
as
she
pulled
the
tines
of
her
fork
through
her
sweet
potatoes.
“Are

you
frightened?”

“That
something
will
happen
to
him?”
Felipe
shrugged.
“Yes
and
no.
Like
me,
he’s

pretty
adaptable.
He
can
take
care
of
himself,
but
he’s
a
bit
of
a
bleeding
heart.
He’ll
go

down
in
flames
tending
to
everyone
around
him.
Chances
are
good
if
he
has
the

opportunity
to
flee,
he
might
not
take
it
if
he
thinks
there’s
someone
he
can
rescue.”

“Is
that
disgust
I
hear
in
your
voice?”
She
picked
up
her
chicken
breast
and
took
a
small

bite,
watching
him
watch
her.

His
eyebrows
shot
up.
“No,
not
in
the
least.
Yes,
I
think
he’s
nuts,
but
I
think
it’s
just

something
built
into
his
constitution.
He’s
very
generous
in
that
way.
I
am
not.”

She
didn’t
agree.
Her
psychic
abilities
were
generally
limited
to
making
people
want
to