Page 23 of The Enemy

He was the only one at my college graduation, which I preferred. I didn’t want to deal with Pricilla, and there was no wayhewould come. My father’s smile was bright, and he was proud on my graduation day. He had even shed a few tears. He obviously knew about my business MBA, but the master’s in Hispanic studies was new to him. This probably explained why I hadn’t come home for the last two years.

“I wanted to give you this.” He gave me a bittersweet smile, and my eyes watered when I saw the beautiful white envelope with purple accents. I had received one on my graduation day already.

“H-how many letters did she write me?” Even though my voice was sad, I smiled.

My father returned the sentiment. “Not as many as she would have wanted.”

He handed me the envelope, but along with it, a sage green square box. It caught me by surprise. For graduation, my father gave me a green-and-gold Montblanc pen. Graduation would be the perfect occasion for new jewelry.

“Was this one my mother’s?” I asked in awe since after her passing, I had received her gold set of vintage Alhambra since, for my quinceañera, my parents had gifted me the malachite bracelet, necklace, and ring.

My mom wasn’t big on giving teenagers high-end jewelry. She said I needed to be grateful for all the things I had, and if they gave me everything I wanted, I would take things for granted.

“No, this I got just for you,” my father said, and my stomach dipped. I was touched by his thoughtfulness.

I opened the box, and his intention with the gift touched me. It was a gold and malachite necklace, a perfect mix of the two I already had.

“Thank you, Papi,” I whispered.

The air left my lungs as my father wrapped me in his arms. I couldn’t help but hug him back. I missed him. I missed his warmth, and in the last few years, I had arrived to the conclusion that while a part of me hated him for never standing up for my mother, especially where my grandfather was concerned, he had been a good husband to her and an even better father. That was the crux of growing up—realizing two things could be right at the same time while still contradicting one another.

“Love you, Lulu, you’re going to do great.”

My dad kissed my forehead and then walked away.

Once in my room, I put my new jewelry on my vanity counter. My plan had been to lay low and work my way up from the bottom, like everyone in my family had done before me. That required me to be one with the people, and hopefully, I could still be one with them with a thirty-thousand-dollar necklace around my neck.

The other envelope was next to me on my nightstand. I carried it with me everywhere. That first letter had been hard,and I cried for hours. I had read it so much that I had it memorized.

Taking a deep breath, I opened this one.

Mi amor, are you ready for your big day?

Your first big girl job marks a step toward your adulthood. This is when you will look back once you have conquered the world.

My eyes werea bit puffy from crying, but otherwise I looked refreshed and ready for today. I was wearing a dark green high-waisted skirt with a side knot and a white silk blouse. My metallic gold heels matched well with my new jewelry. I almost debated changing into a more sensible pair, but I would be seeing Pricilla today around work, and I was petty.

Revenge before comfort, or however the saying went.

Once I was ready, I left the house with time to spare to get some iced coffee before work. When I got to our building, I took a moment to take in the bold letters at the front with my last name on them. Looking up at all those stories, I felt so small, but I was excited because I could make some change here.

I reported to the front desk and stated my name.

“Miss Riviere,” the secretary said with a brief smile. “Welcome.” She handed me a badge with my photo on it. I assumed my father had arranged that for me since my hiring process had not been the same as everyone else's. “You are to report to the marketing department. Your badge will give you access to anywhere in the building. No restrictions added.” That last part was said with a bit of resentment.

“I thought I was to report with the other interns in sales?”

The marketing department didn’t have any interns.

“No,” she told me. “Your father approved your change.”

I got the feeling she was not happy with me about this, and instead of being bitchy I just gave her a forced smile and took my shit. I would have to ask my father why, all of a sudden, I was the one breaking decades of tradition.

This was my chance to prove to my grandfather that anything the Riviere men could do, I would do better, and I was already being sabotaged.

I squared my shoulders and marched my ass to the marketing department, wondering if maybe this was a blessing in disguise, and I could give our brand the rebranding it didn’t know it needed.

The marketing department was smaller than the others. My grandfather believed, and I agreed with him, that too many people stirring the same pot would just fuck it up. It was better to have a minor team moving forward than a huge team divided because everyone couldn’t agree on what to put out.

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