Page 59 of Miguel
“No, Prospect, tell us what it means,” Desi had snapped, and I interpreted.
“It means I’m one step closer to being an official part of Los Diablos.”
The pride shining in those young eyes of his had Desi and I retreating back inside and trying–mostly–to ignore his presence. It was hard to do when every time one of us went out to the store, he was there. We went on a combi to get from one town to another, he hopped on beside us.
Since Saturday he’d been our shadow.
I wasn’t sure how he found the time to do it all day. Did he not eat? Sleep? Take a shit?
It was awkward trying to do things around him, to pretend like he wasn’t there. And I’d finally had enough.
“Come inside and eat a taco, we got enough for you too,” I insisted.
He shook his head, seeming unbothered. “I can’t do that.”
I looked up to the harsh, sunny sky with a suffering sigh. “Get in the damn house,” I gritted out. “And eat a fucking taco.”
“If Miguel caught me eating on the job, in your house, he would have my huevos and wear them around his fucking neck. So, no, I will not be eating with you.”
Annoyance flared through me. At first, it had been flattering to know Miguel cared, but to have my own wishes so blatantly disregarded was frustrating.
“Miguel isn’t here,” I snapped. “And I’m not going to tell him. So get your ass ins–”
“No.”
I huffed a heavy breath. “Prospect…”
His smile didn’t drop. “I have my orders.”
“If Miguel cares so much about my safety, why isn’t he here himself?” I demanded in a last-ditch effort to make him see reason.
Flattering it may have been to have someone watching over us, but when he had several prospects at his beck and call, willing to do whatever he wanted, the novelty wore off quickly.
“He’s… busy…”
“Busy.”
“Sí.”
“Doing what, exactly?”
“That’s club business.”
Club business.
And that was exactly why I had no interest in being another notch in Miguel’s bed post.
Club business.
Maybe that answer would have pacified one of the club girls that draped themselves over the members like those cueros they loved so much, but not me. I would never be content with following his orders blindly. While society today was set on breaking free of the chains of machismo, it still had a long way to go. While women were expected to be at home, cooking, cleaning, taking care of the children and the men, nowadays people were striving for more. I’d always wanted more. I’d be the first to admit that the idea of a household, a family, was something I desperately craved, I wouldn’t have it the way my parents envisioned for me.
I wanted kids. I wanted Miguel. But I was not a dog at his beck and call, to be silent when he ordered and not ask questions because he demanded it.
It was why we’d never work.
And it was why my heart felt ready to shatter.
“Fine,” I conceded eventually. “I guess I’ll have to pretend you aren’t here.”
