Page 16 of Wishing for La Luna
"Get me an Uber."
I shake my head at her. "You can't go home alone. Tell me where you live, and I'll take you."
"But I hate you. You're a dog." Her eyes are darting from side to side.
"I know, but we have to get you home."
"Call Sel…" She sways against me with her full weight.
I manage to catch her, but her eyes roll back. My heart drops as I hold her with one hand and pat her face. "Luna."
She doesn't open her eyes or look at me again. My heart is pounding so fast I'm barely aware of the yelling around me and the gathering crowd.
A hand presses on my shoulder. Thankfully, it’s Tito. "We have to get her to a hospital."
I pick her up, her limp body heavy against my chest, and we load her into the backseat of my waiting SUV. I place her head on my lap as we drive away. I keep patting her cheek, but she's out cold.
"Let's go to St. Anthony's. It's the closest one. Rio, you need to call Maeven," Marco, my driver, says.
I look away from Luna to the front of the car. His usually jovial face is now marked by a deep frown. "What? Why?"
"You didn't see people snapping photos and videos? This girl's face is already all over the place after she kissed Thierry."
"Hekissedher.Forcibly. She was practically a zombie."
"It won't matter. The internet is already on it,” Marco insists.
I clench my teeth. There’s never a moment where there’s not a fucking camera around. "This just happened."
"No kidding. People are going live on TikTok. This shit is going viral. Maeven won't be happy," says Tito, holding up his phone.
"What else is new?"
Five minutes later, we pull up to the emergency room. When they take Luna away, I pull out my phone and call Maeven.
“Rio? What’s wrong? Why are you calling me at this hour?” She’s out of breath.
“We have a problem. There’s this girl, Luna, who seems to have been drugged?—”
“Get off me. I gotta go,” she tells someone. “Rio, did you have sex with that impaired girl?”
“What? No. I took her away from Thierry Banks. He was kissing her against her will, and then his girlfriend, Adina, wanted to beat her. We brought her to St. Anthony’s. She’s in the ER. Marco said I should call you?—”
Her audible breath fills the line. “Hold up. Are you talking about Luna Santos?”
“Yeah, she’s out cold. You know her?”
“Yeah,” she says, and there’s all kinds of rustling on the other line. “Help me find my pants. Luna’s my old intern. I’m on my way, Rio.”
5
Luna
“Luna,” my dad calls out.
Papi?
I turn around and run looking for him, but it’s dark. I can’t see clearly. Then, my grandma is there, sitting in her kitchen, rolling pasteles. She grabs my hand, the masa sticking her fingers to my skin. Her touch is comforting, and I miss the warmth of her leathery skin so much. “Go back.”
