Page 61 of Blackbeard
“If you ever get tired of old Diego,” Juan said with a wink. “Just say the word. I’d marry you in a heartbeat, hermosa.”
Manuel gave a dramatic groan and shoved Juan out of the way.
“Please ignore him. He’s an embarrassment to the family, and I keep saying we should disown him. No one believes me though. But if you’re in the market for another husband—”
A woman protested from the other side of the room.
“You’re already married to me, pendejo. And we have two teenage boys together. Do you really think you can handle another wife when you’re already scared of the one you have?”
“I’m not scared of you,” he protested.
“Says the man who was so green at the altar that you nearly puked,” his wife replied.
“I was nervous!”
“That’s the excuse you gave on our wedding night, too,” she countered.
I choked with laughter as Manuel withered on the spot.
“There is no mercy in this family,” he mumbled.
Then I met Blackbeard’s mother, a petite woman with a graceful poise about her presence that I envied. She cupped my face in her hands with a faint hum.
“I can see why my son loves you,” she said.
That nearly took me out at the knees. My breath caught in my throat and something in my chest ached with a hollowness I couldn’t name.
Before I had a chance to recover, Blackbeard’s father kissed both of my cheeks and held me at arm’s length, looking me up and down.
“No wonder he waited so long to find a wife. He was looking for a diamond in the rough, and he found her. Don’t ever let him forget to cherish you every day of his life, mija.”
My smile slipped, just a little. A greasy, oily feeling slithered through my belly. I mumbled an excuse and fled to the privacy of the bathroom.
It’s supposed to happen like this,I told myself, staring at my reflection. I had to win Blackbeard’s heart if I intended to drive a wedge between him and his club.
But swindling his entire family—his parents, his siblings, his nieces and nephews—was harder than I thought it would be. They were such kind, generous, and warm people.
This should have been a prime opportunity for gathering information to use against Blackbeard later.
Instead, I was suddenly growing a damn conscience at the worst possible time.
A burst of laughter echoed through the house, followed by a cheer. I couldn’t stay in here forever. It was only a matter of time before someone came looking for me, wondering where I’d disappeared to.
I allotted five minutes to refresh my makeup and gather my wits, rebuilding that barrier between the real Leigh and the partI had to play. Then I squared my shoulders, donned a bright smile, and returned to the party.
As I moved down the hallway to the living room, I found row after row of pictures on the walls, spanning several decades of Blackbeard’s family.
His parents at their wedding as a young couple.
Blackbeard as a boy—maybe twelve or thirteen years old—with his arms slung around the shoulders of Juan and Manuel. Even then, he was protective, but the world hadn’t toughened him up yet, hadn’t sharpened his edges. His brown skin was smooth and untouched by tattoos.
I continued wandering down the corridor, following year after year of memories.
Blackbeard at his high school graduation, clad in cap and gown, beaming at the camera, with Sofia, Ana, and Esperanza hugging him.
Esperanza at prom, with Blackbeard dressed in a tux, looking stiff and uncomfortable. Enduring for the sake of his sister anyway, who grinned from ear to ear in a sky blue gown.
Blackbeard with a baby Claudia, fast asleep on his chest.
