Framing Felipe (18 page)

talk
to
her—apparently
sometimes
when
she
wasn’t
even
trying—but
like
Dana,
she
had
a

good
gut.
She
could
read
people,
and
her
gut
said
Felipe
was
just
as
likely
to
go
down
in
a

blaze
of
glory
as
Fabian.
Her
gut
also
informed
her
that
she
didn’t
like
that
idea
one
bit.

Maybe
it’s
because
he
was
too
much
like
Sarah.
The
realization
settled
into
her
core

like
a
block
of
ice,
and
she
set
down
her
fork.
Bold
and
reckless
at
the
expense
of
herself.

That
was
Sarah
to
a
tee.

FRAMING FELIPE
–
69
–
Holley Trent

Change
the
subject.

“How
isn’t
that
you
and
Fabian
haven’t
mastered
fluency
in
English?”
she
asked
in

Spanish.

He
reached
over
and
plucked
her
roll
off
her
plate,
correctly
assuming
she
wasn’t
going

to
eat
it.
“It’s
just
one
of
the
ways
Jacques
makes
it
difficult
for
troupe
members
to
seek

independence.
If
you
don’t
know
the
language,
it’s
hard
for
you
to
get
help.
To
blend
in.
We

learned
what
we
could
from
books
and
magazines,
and
whenever
a
native
English
speaker

joined
the
troupe,
we’d
try
to
practice
with
them,
but
not
so
much
to
rouse
suspicion.
I
can

read
English
well,
and
write
in
it,
but
I’m
slow
with
translating
it
as
natives
speak
it.
I’m

always
a
beat
behind.”

As
was
Sarah
with
Spanish.

“If
I
ever
see
that
Jacques
guy,
the
very
least
I’ll
do
is
punch
him
in
the
throat.”
And
she

meant
it,
and
not
just
because
Jacques
had
thrown
a
monkey
wrench
in
the
Shrews’
plans.

It
was
because
she
honestly
hated
people
who
made
a
business
of
exploiting
and

demeaning
others.
Who
knew
what
Felipe
and
Fabian
could
have
been
if
they’d
had
a

normal
life?

“You
and
me
both,
but
I
think
it’d
probably
be
a
better
idea
if
I
kept
my
distance
for
the

moment.
He’s
holding
too
much
over
my
head,
and
I
need
to
be
careful.”

Upon
hearing
that,
she
startled
slightly,
but
managed
a
quick
recovery.
Fabian
had
said

Jacques
was
responsible
for
their
parents’
demise
and
that
Felipe
didn’t
know.
Sarah
didn’t

necessarily
agree
with
Fabian
that
they
should
let
the
system
handle
Jacques—to
try
and

convict
him
when
it
was
his
time—but
Fabian
seemed
to
have
a
good,
rational
head
on
his

shoulders.
She
trusted
his
judgment
on
it.
If
Fabian
had
a
plan
held
in
reserve,
she
didn’t

want
to
give
his
brother
information
that
could
potentially
compromise
it.

“Anyway,
why
don’t
you
tell
me
why
your
Spanish
is
so
shitty?”

She
rolled
her
eyes.
“You
should
be
thankful
I
speak
any
at
all.
Most
Americans
aren’t

bilingual,
you
know.”

“Fabian
and
I—our
parents…they
spoke
Spanish
and
French.
My
mother
was
French.
I

remember
her
singing
to
us.
We
don’t
speak
French
as
much
because
it’s
Jacques’
native

tongue.”

FRAMING FELIPE
–
70
–
Holley Trent

“Oh.”
She
fluffed
a
bit
of
sweet
potatoes
onto
her
fork
and
slid
them
into
her
mouth.

While
she
itemized
the
flavors
on
her
tongue—sweet
and
a
bit
spicy
from
nutmeg—she

thought
of
what
it
must
have
been
like
to
have
her
parents
taken
away
from
her.
Yeah,
they

gave
her
a
hard
time
about
some
things,
but
they
were
good
parents.
Supportive,
even
after

so
many
people
had
abandoned
her.
After
that
damned
research
study
that
had
turned
her

into
a,
well,
mutant
for
lack
of
a
better
word—had
nearly
killed
her.
Changed
her
from
the

inside
out.
She’d
been
through
a
lot
of
crap
in
her
life,
but
she
still
had
her
parents.

Maybe
that
was
the
hardest
part
of
working
at
that
strip
club.
Seeing
all
those
girls
and

knowing
that
some
of
them
were
there
because
they
had
no
one
.
Sarah
had
always
had

someone.
And
now
she
wanted
Felipe
to
have
someone,
too.
She
set
down
her
fork
once

more.

“My
mother
was
born
in
Puerto
Rico,”
she
said.
“My
father
met
her
when
he
was

vacationing
there
with
his
family.
We
spoke
Spanish
at
home
until
I
started
school,
and

then
it
was
all
English.
I’ve
lost
my
fluency.
It’s
not
exactly
like
getting
back
on
a
bicycle.”

“Well,
we
can
help
each
other.”

“Sounds
like
you’re
getting
the
better
end
of
that
deal.
The
only
time
I’ve
needed

Spanish
in
the
past
twenty-‐five
years
or
so
is
during
the
last
job
I
took
for
the
Shrews.
All

those
girls…they
spoke
Spanish.
I
had
to
pretend
I
didn’t
know
any
when
other
people
were

around.”

He
smiled
and
took
her
neglected
plate,
stacking
it
on
top
of
his
own.
“Are
you
going
to

take
off
your
gun?
You’re
giving
me
a
complex
with
you
still
wearing
it.”

“Soon.”
She
stood
and
stretched
her
arms
high
over
her
head,
yawning.
Her
back
gave
a

crack
as
she
arched
her
spine,
and
she
cringed,
feeling
every
one
of
her
thirty
years
at
that

moment.
She
had
a
thought.
“Felipe,
how
old
are
you?”

“Why?”

“Just
curious.”
There
was
a
bit
of
curiosity,
yes,
but
what
really
prompted
her
to
ask

was
her
long-‐standing
rule
that
she
couldn’t
be
involved
with
a
man
younger
than
her—not

even
by
a
day.
It
was
a
mental
thing,
but
one
she’d
never
been
able
to
surpass.
Maybe
it

could
be
her
out
.

“Too
old
to
be
working
as
an
acrobat.”

“That’s
plenty
vague.”

FRAMING FELIPE
–
71
–
Holley Trent

He
shrugged
and
stood.
“I’m
thirty-‐three,
I
think.”

He
thinks?

Her
expression
must
have
been
readable
as
an
open
book,
because
he
added,
“I
think

Fabian
and
I
were
around
four
when
we
were
taken
from
our
aunt.
Hard
to
keep
track.”

“Don’t
you
have
a
passport?
Legal
documents?”

“Jacques
has
them.
Keeps
them
until
our
contracts
expire,
but
of
course,
they
never
do.”

Oh
.
That
would
be
a
problem—him
not
being
legally
allowed
in
the
United
States.

Maybe
Dana
can
get
his
paperwork
in
order.
Patrick
would
know
what
to
do…

She
blew
out
a
breath,
and
strode
to
the
bathroom.
She
turned
the
water
on
full-‐blast

and
grabbed
the
little
paper-‐covered
bar
of
soap.

What
are
you
thinking?
His
immigration
status
is
his
own
problem.
He
can
deal
with
it

himself
once
this
mess
is
over.

He
leaned
against
the
bathroom
doorway,
plates
in
hand,
watching
her.
“Do
you
want
a

drink
from
the
hall?
Coffee?”

“No,
I’m
okay
with
water.
I
don’t
want
anything
to
keep
me
up.”

“Be
right
back,
then.”

He
slipped
out,
and
once
the
door
shut,
she
dried
her
hands
and
quickly
shimmied
out

of
her
jacket.
She
finally
removed
her
holster
and
the
knife
sheath
at
her
back,
honestly

surprised
Felipe
hadn’t
noticed
it
during
his
fondling.
It
was
good
that
it
was
so
sleek.

Normally
when
she
travelled,
she
didn’t
bother
with
pajamas
and
slept
in
her

underwear.
She
usually
shared
a
room
with
another
Shrew
or
slept
alone,
so
it
didn’t

matter.
This
scenario
hadn’t
been
planned.
Felipe
had
changed
the
game,
the
ballsy
bastard,

and
there
was
nothing
in
her
overnight
bag
fit
to
sleep
in.

Worrying
her
bottom
lip
between
her
teeth,
she
padded
to
the
door
and
turned
the

flimsy
lock.
Felipe
had
left
the
key.
She
knelt
in
front
of
his
bag
and
hesitated
for
just
a

moment
before
pinching
the
zipper
between
her
thumb
and
forefinger.

What
she
was
doing
felt
somehow
immoral,
the
brazen
breech
of
privacy,
but
what

choice
did
she
have
beyond
sleeping
in
her
grubby
street
clothes?

She
spread
the
edges
wider
and
pulled
out
a
clean
white
tank
top
that
looked
long

enough
to
cover
her
rear.
As
she
unfurled
it,
something
cold
and
heavy
spilled
out
to
fall
on

her
foot,
and
bounced
into
the
gap
between
his
backpack
and
the
dresser.
She
patted
the

FRAMING FELIPE
–
72
–
Holley Trent

space
blindly
for
a
moment
and
her
fingers
curled
over
the
hard
metal
object.
Her
brain

took
only
a
second
to
identify
the
worn,
gold
figure
on
the
pendant.
She
didn’t
even
need
to

study
the
faint
lettering
arching
at
the
bottom.

San
Felipe
.
Saint
Philip—Felipe’s
namesake
saint.
She
may
not
have
been
particularly

religious
nowadays,
but
she
knew
her
saints,
thanks
to
her
mother.
The
medallion
and
the

chain
it
hung
from
looked
very
old,
possibly
heirloom.

She
squeezed
it
harder,
the
metal
now
warming
in
her
palm,
and
turned
it
over.
The

back
was
a
smooth
blank
oval
with
no
engraving,
no
maker’s
mark,
though
she
could
tell
it

had
once
been
very
fine.
With
some
cleaning
it
would
probably
sparkle.
Felipe
had

probably
grown
attached
to
the
dirt,
though.
She
wondered
where
he’d
gotten
it
and
if
it

was
special
to
him.

She
wrapped
the
chain
around
the
pendant
so
it
wouldn’t
tangle
and
nestled
it
into
the

side
of
the
bag.
She
changed
her
clothes
right
there,
hurrying
when
she
thought
she
heard

footsteps
approaching
in
the
hallway,
but
they
continued
past.