Page 51 of The Mob: Shio Cuppacio
“Uncle Shio didn’t tell us he had company.”
“Ahhh!” Clutching my chest, I jumped back from the counter upon hearing the boyish voice.
My racing heart pained in my chest, and it felt as if every piece of hair on my body had been lifted. My breathing was caught in my throat, and the feeling of something sticky on my feet had me looking down rather than looking back at who had startled me. Sauce decorated my toes, letting me know what I already did—I’d dropped my whole plate.
“Damn, you scary.”
Footsteps could be heard behind me, and then the ripping of paper towels. I was still trying to get my bearings together and steady my breathing, so I didn’t notice the boyish voice squat down beside me until I could feel the paper towels on my feet.
Looking down, I visibly relaxed, even though my internal organs hadn’t gotten the memo just yet. The first thing I noticed was a big ball of silk hair fitted into a bun, and then a tapered fade along the side of his cranium.
“Aye. You good?” he asked.
I nodded my head in response to his question as I stared at him. The boyish voice belonged to a dark-skinned little boy whose skin tone was similar to mine. As he wiped the food from the floor, his eyes met mine, and he smiled. He was so handsome with his perfect white teeth shining against his rich, toned skin. This was the fourth person I’d seen in less than twenty-four hours with skin as dark as mine. The driver, Shio, the one he loved, and now this child. People with darker skin weren’t ordinary in Mexico unless they were tourists. That is why my father let me party as much as I wanted. I blended in with many visitors, but amongst my people, I stood out like a decorated sombrero.
“I’m good,” I replied, finding my voice as I squatted to help clean up the dropped food.
I’d lied. I wasn’t good. I was in a foreign place, unsure of what was coming next or what my papa’s endgame was by bringing me here. I didn’t have any money or clothes. I felt as if I was in danger, but had no urge to call anyone. Who would I call anyway? My papa? He was the reason I was in this circumstance to begin with. No, thanks. I’d rather be a sitting duck than beg my father to be the father I once knew.
Looking back at the boy, who was dressed more like a grown man in his streetwear, I found him looking back at me. I’d spotted at least three different designer brands on him. Like this house, he was well put-together and looked expensive. I could see the wheels turning in his mind as he tried to figure me out, but instead of asking who I was, he took the plate from me.
“Aite. Go have a seat. Let me clean this shit up,” he instructed.
Choosing not to question him either, I stood and walked to one of the barstools connected to the bar top counter nearby. I didn’t know what to do or say after I sat, so I gazed around the kitchen. There wasn’t much décor in here, but the granitecounters, ivory-colored cabinets that didn’t clash with the floors, and top-of-the-line appliances were enough to fill the space. The American had done a great job with his home. Even the room I’d slept in was tastefully put together. I’d been begging my father to upgrade our home, but he was old-school and preferred his casita just as it was when he purchased it. His wife didn’t give a shit what it looked like as long as she could shop and spend money in peace. She was one of the reasons I’d rented my own apartment in the city. I couldn’t stand that bruja.
Even though I had no idea what was next for me as I skated my eyes around the kitchen, I was pleased my second encounter in the States didn’t involve a gun being pulled on me. The little boy had been kind enough to clean up my mess, but I cringed at the thought of children. I didn’t see myself with any for a long time, if ever. Considering who my future husband was, I was going to find a way to secretly get on birth control.There was no way I was going to have children with a kidnapper, killer, and trafficker rolled into one. I did love children, though, and seeing the handsome boy made me wish for my own little dark chocolate babies. My father and Maura had a house full of kids, and even though I couldn’t stand the older ones now, the small ones were mynenes. There was just something about the innocence of a child that put me at ease. This one was no exception.
“You my Uncle Shio’s bitch?”
The smile on my face fell no sooner than the words left his mouth. Here I was basking in his innocence, and this little boy was cursing like he was an adult. I’d heard the small one earlier, but thought I’d imagined it since my nerves were coming down from his scaring me. Now I know I wasn’t confused. With his legs slightly gapped now that he was standing, his hands were crossed at his waistband as he looked me up and down. My little brothers were always plainly dressed when they weren’t intheir school clothes. However, this kid was wearing shorts with rips at the knee, Bottega sneakers, a Bottega T-shirt, a diamond necklace and diamonds in both ears, along with a Rolex on his wrist. This was an adult male in a child’s body.
Blinking away my concern, I scrunched up my face. “Excuse me?”
He cocked his head and squinted his eyes at me. “I said, ‘Are you my Uncle Shio’s?—’”
“No!” I rushed out before he could curse again. I didn’t know if his parents were near and didn’t want him to get in trouble if they heard the vile language spewing from his mouth.
“Oh,” he replied dismissively.
“Oh?” I found myself questioning.
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I thought he’d finally found his wife.”
The kid looked me up and down again, and it was only then that I realized how much of a hot mess I must’ve looked. I had rolled out of bed and come into the kitchen like I lived here.
“If he did, it isn’t me,” I assured him, chuckling to ease the tension I was feeling in my chest.
He and I engaged in a stare-off, where it appeared that he was trying to read me while I was only trying to figure out what the hell had become of my life. Just yesterday, I was living carefree, doing what I wanted, and moving as I pleased, following my father’s one and only rule that he had set for me.
“Nah…” He shook his head. “If it ain’t you, then hedefinitelyhasn’t found nobody. Nigga ain’t gonnaeverget solidified.”
I didn’t know what he meant by that, so I replied with, “Oh.”
I watched as he tossed the dirty paper towels and plate of floor food, washed his hands, and then grabbed another plate. He stood gapped-legged in front of the foiled pans, and I had to place my attention elsewhere so that I didn’t go over and lift his shorts on his waist. He was too handsome to be sagging hispants. I’d seen visitors in Mexico City wear their clothes this way, and it looked silly to me.
“Remind me what you had again. I know hot wings and fries.”
“Uh, the lemon pepper one and a barbecue.”
