Chapter One
HOPE IS A GOOD BREAKFAST BUT A POOR SUPPER
SATURDAY, APRIL 19
“Levanta ese culo ya!”Mayte shouts, waking me from my unnecessarily short nap. She’s crammed a million activities into a single day—not to mention the several minutes when I feared for my life white water rafting—and she won’t allow me the pleasure of an hour-long nap?
I can’t help but groan. “Just five more minutes,” I plead with her, but it’s futile.
“Nope. We only have one night to do this right, and you’ve already wasted an hour of it sleeping. Get your perky ass up and get ready.”
I drag myself out of bed, and Mayte proceeds to spend the next hour and a half doing my makeup and hair, dressing me up like a doll. Considering I’ve been left in the dark about this entire kidnapping—I mean,bachelorette party—Mayte had to pack for me.
Once we're all ready, I'm ushered into the living room, where Mayte and Karmella spent their dedicated nap time decorating the archway in our BnB.
“Aww, this looks super cute. Thankyou, guys,” I tell them, my eyes welling with tears at the time and thought they put into this weekend.
“Stop crying and come stand over here for a picture,” Mayte tells me, setting her phone up on a plant she grabbed from the porch to use as a tripod.
I stand with all my favorite women under a giant banner that reads, “Miss to Mrs With All My Bitches.”
“Okay, just one more!” Yanet yells at us, running from her phone to jump into the photo. She fluffs her hair before shooting a wide grin at the camera. A blinding flash goes off, and a honk comes from outside.
“Our ride is here,” Mayte declares, leading us outside and into the car after double-checking the license plate, making the poor guy show her his ID, and then checking every door latch to ensure the child safety locks aren’t on.Better safe than sorry.Though this behavior has definitely become more apparent since she had my niece.
We pile into the SUV, the backs of my thighs sticking to the leather seats, my friends and I stuck like sardines in a tin. Our driver has a nineties hits radio station playing low enough that we're able to continue talking.
We arrive at the club, a tall building in the middle of a strip of similar ones. There's a rooftop terrace I can see from the street, and a line of people wraps around the corner.
We make our way to the back of the line, my feet aching in my strappy red heels as we wade through the crowd. Half an hour passes, with Ewelina repeatedly telling Karmella to quit bitching, and my fiancé has called so many times Mayte threatened to toss my phone under the wheel of the next moving car she sees before we finally approach the bouncer. He lets us in without a hassle, and we're admitted for free thanks to my bride’s sash.
“The wait was worth it, eh?” Mayte asks, wriggling her dark brows at me as we make our way into a multilevel club, Latin music on one floor, rap and R&B on the others.
“It’s perfect.” I smile at her, and for the first time today, I don’t feel like I’m lying.
We spend the next couple of hours dancing. My joints ache as we move, but the alcohol numbs some of the pain. Eventually, we close this place down at 2 a.m., hobbling down the street in search of our rideshare.
“Don’t worry, I booked our ride so we won’t have to wait forever,” Mayte tells us. Thank Godoneof us can plan ahead.
As we wait on the sidewalk, my mind a foggy, drunken mess, my phone rings loudly, the shrill sound stabbing my eardrums.
I fiddle with my phone before answering and pressing it to my ear.
“Lola, why are you answering the phone this late? You should be in bed.” Russ’s deep voice greets me, the bite in his tone sending a shiver of apprehension down my spine.
“It’s my bachelorette party, Russ. I’mallowedto have fun,” I tell him against my better judgment.
“Watch your tone with me, Lola. I’m sick of you living your life on whims and hope alone. You need to start acting like an adult. What would our parents think if they saw you looking like a two-bit floozy tomorrow after a drunken night without me?”
I turn away from my friends, unwilling to deal with their heavy stares and prying ears on top of Russ berating me. It’s just too much.
I focus my attention on the nasty cement wall in front of me, trash and gum plastered to it like a mural. “Are you going to answer me or not?” he snaps over the line.
It takes a long moment of silence for me to gather my wits before I drag in a ragged breath. “My parents would think I was having fun with my friends and would behappyfor me. As for your parents, I don’t really care what they think.”
“Excuse me?” he spits. “My parents, the people you’re so intent on disrespecting, have been nothingbut good to you. Don’t forget that the money I’ve put away to go towardyourhealth insurance directly takes from them.”
“Why is everything about money with you people?” The words fall from my mouth without thought as my frustration climbs to new heights. Russ started his company from the ground up. When we first met, the man was as broke as I was. His behavior is practically the Hollywood sign, reminding me how money corrupts those with fragile egos.
