Page 113 of The Mob: Shio Cuppacio
“Solana… Do you know them?”
Nodding, I pulled away from her and looked back at him.
He hadn't taken his eyes off me in that brief moment.
“Si. That’s my fiancé. Excuse me, ladies.”
I didn’t want him coming into the section, causing problems with the nicest women I’d ever encountered. So, I was going to him. Two bulky security guys had been guarding the booth, but that meant nothing to the man I was set to marry. He’d not only kill the men in a club full of people, but he’d also hurt the ladies.
“Gotdamn her fiancé fine as a muthafucka! If that nigga kidnapping women and shit, I don’t really think it’s kidnapping, y’all. Them hoes going with him willingly,” I heard Mocha yell.
Moving through the crowd with my heart drumming so hard that it made my head rattle, I didn't stop until I was in front of him. I should have known when I didn’t answer for my father, someone would show up. I didn’t think it would be the Rodríguezes and Esteban, my eldest brother, born two years after me. We had never been close because his mother had drilled into all my siblings’ heads that I was nothing more than the daughter of a dead whore.
“¿Sabe papá que estás en el club bailando como una puta?(Does father know that you are in the club dancing like a whore?)” My brother was the first to speak.
The ringleader held his hand up, silencing my brother, who zipped his lips like the puppet he was. Not even acknowledging Esteban, I kept my eyes on the man I was set to marry.
“¿Por qué estás en el club en lugar de en mi cama, esposa?(Why are you in the club instead of in my bed, wife?) He reached up as if he was going to touch my face, but paused.
Felipe Rodríguez was easy on the eyes. All the Rodríguezes were attractive, but their reputation preceded them. Despite his good looks, there was nothing about him that was desirable. He was a ruthless, cold-hearted individual, and the day his father gave him the kingdom would be a sad day in Mexico City. Things hadn’t gotten nearly as bad until Felipe came of age. It was said that he would be ten times worse than his father, and his joy came from causing everyone else pain.
Taking a step back, I squinted my eyes. “Todavía no soy tu esposa. Soy libre de ir a donde quiera. (I am not your wife yet. I'm free to go where I want.)”
He took two steps forward and grabbed my arm, digging his nails into my skin and pulling me toward him. I bumped into a girl, who spilled her drink, but didn’t get a chance to apologize.
Felipe gritted his teeth as he pressed his nails further into my flesh. “¿Con quién carajo te crees que estás hablando? ¿Crees que solo porque tu padre te envió a América te liberas de mí? ¡Me perteneces, perra! ¡Me respetarás o me casaré contigo hoy y acabaré con la pequeña libertad que crees tener!(Who the fuck do you think you are talking to? Do you think just because your father sent you to America that you are free of me? I own you, bitch! You will respect me, or I'll marry you today and end the little piece of freedom you think you have!)”
A blinding red light had Felipe’s men reaching for their guns, but they came up short. The club must’ve denied them entry with their weapons, so they had to come in without them. Following the red dot, Felipe released me and took a step back.
“Nah… Back the fuck back a few more paces, my nigga.”
I’d never been so happy to hear Shio’s voice. The club immediately began to clear out in an orderly fashion, as if seeingShio with a big gun was a normal sighting. He was no longer in the lounge clothes I’d seen him wearing at the house. Unlike Felipe, he was dressed all in white. His white Dolce & Gabbana jeans fit perfectly, cuffed right at the top of his pure white Dolce & Gabbana sneakers. The matching Dolce & Gabbana T-shirt hugged his six-pack, showing he put in work in both the gym and the kitchen. The Jesus piece he once wore had been replaced with a thick diamond chain, I’d never seen him wear, with a cross hanging from it.
Felipe didn’t move another inch but kept his eyes on Shio.
“Esteban, pregúntale a este americano por qué juega con su vida interrumpiendo los asuntos de marido y mujer.(Esteban, ask this American why is he playing with his life by interrupting the affairs of husband and wife?)
Felipe didn’t speak English, so he was asking my brother to translate. Esteban swallowed, looking every inch like his mother, then looked at Shio and me before clearing his throat.
“He wants to know…” He started, trying to keep his voice steady. “Why are you interrupting the conversation he is having with his wife, and says that you are playing with your life by doing so.”
My brother knew Shio was fluent in Spanish. He witnessed it at our dinner table just as I had. I didn’t know why he hadn’t informed Felipe instead of translating, but I kept my mouth shut.
Shio cocked his head. “Wife? Nigga, what wife?”
The color drained from my face as my brother translated, and Felipe turned a shade of red. Shio wasn’t done, though.
“Solana… Hold your left hand up for me, back side showing.”
Without hesitation, I did as Shio said. I could see steam rising from Felipe.
“I don’t see no fucking ring. You ain’t got no wife up in here.”
Esteban translated, and I could have sworn Felipe grew horns.
“Te equivocas, estadounidense. Solana está dispuesta a casarse conmigo. ¡Es mía y llevará mi apellido y mi linaje!(You are mistaken, American. Solana is arranged to be wed to me. She is mine and will bear my last name and carry my lineage!)
I had to hold in my throw up as my brother delivered the message to Shio, who already knew what Felipe had said. My nerves were shot, and I wanted to look back to make sure the ladies were safe, but my head was ringing too loudly to move an inch.
