Chapter 35

K ate lives in a small suburban house in the neighborhood we grew up in. As I drive through the familiar streets, I realize how much I missed it. In a little over two months since my move to Seattle, I haven't been back here. I talk a lot with my parents, abuela, and Kate, but it's not the same.

I park in her lane, behind her powder blue Mini Cooper, and quickly exit my old Ford before taking my bag from the trunk and locking the car. The few steps to the patio are quickly ascended, and the door swings open as I'm about to knock.

Kate stands behind it in pink pajama shorts and a flimsy white top, with red and puffy eyes. We instantly fall into each other's arms. A series of sobs overwhelm her as I hold her tightly in my comforting embrace. We stay like this for a while as I whisper reassuring words in her ear.

"I'm so sorry this is happening to you, babe. I swear, he won't get away with this. I'll take care of it."

Little by little, her breathing returns to normal. When I sense she's well enough, I let go of her after one last squeeze. We move inside, and she locks the door behind us.

As always, her house is all tidied up and nicely decorated. Kate has a whole Scandinavian aesthetic going on, with soft and elegant pastel tones. Although it isn't for me, I always found it cozy and girly, and it suits her very well.

"I'm so sorry I ruined your weekend," she says with a shameful pout.

"It's okay. Lex was fine with it. He practically wanted to drive me here," I reassure her. Upon remembering the pile of rust that is my car, he offered that option. Several times.

"I didn't know who else to turn to. Nobody can know about this."

"It's okay. I'll always be here for yo u, blondie," I insist.

I'm just settling on her light teal sofa when Mr. Fluffybutt comes from his hiding spot to greet me. The old, overweight, and lazy Persian has been with Kate for over eighteen years. He's her loyal companion, the one male in her life who would never leave her. He and I have a love-hate relationship since he never forgave me for waking him up from a nap with a garden hose when I was eleven. But over the years, his old rancor slowly shifted into indifferent acceptance.

So when the white fur ball jumps directly on my lap, I'm genuinely shocked. Unsure of what to do about this unusual display of affection, I turn to Kate, stunned.

"Yeah, I told you he wasn't doing great lately," she says with a mirthless smile.

"No, it just took him fifteen years to forgive me," I counter, petting his soft fur. Mr. Fluffybutt lies down on my thighs and starts purring. "What does Stefano want exactly?"

"He wants to get back together. That woman apparently meant nothing to him, and I'm overreacting."

"Yeah, you can't do that."

"Oh, trust me, I know. I'm so done with his bullshit."

"I swear, babe, I don't know how you keep picking the worst possible guys."

"They aren't like that at first. They're perfect, kind, considerate, and charming. But then it shifts so slowly that you barely realize it. And when you do, it's too late. You're dating a possessive jerk. Stefano was great until he wasn't. He was so good with me at first, treating me like a princess, and I still can't believe it's the same man doing this to me now."

"You need to find a decent guy."

"I'm trying, you bitch," she retorts, a faint trace of humor in her voice. "We can't all be as lucky as you and end up working for Mr. Perfect."

I blush slightly. "He isn't Mr. Perfect. He's just perfect for me. And we were talking about you. That's more important right now."

"Please, I just need a distraction for a few minutes. I've been thinking about Stefano all day and need to clear my mind a little. We'll get back to it after you're done telling me about Alexander."

"Your advice to sleep with him to get him out of my system backfired monumentally."

"Of course it did, you moron."

Her smug expression tells me she always knew things would spiral out of control with Lex. "But—you-you said it would work," I stutter, half-amused and half-scandalized.

"First of all, I said it might work. Second, I said whatever you needed to hear to take that leap. I saw you two together and knew there had to be more to this."

"You manipulated me?"

"I know how blind and stubborn you can be, you cretin."

"So you made me sleep with him?"

She snorts, unimpressed. "I didn't make you do anything. I suggested it, and you very much went for it on your own. And why are you even arguing about this? Are you pissed that I pushed you to try, you ungrateful brat?"

I shake my head, struggling to hide my contented grin.

"Now, thanks to me, you finally have a good boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Oh, did you two elope already?" she teases.

"Will you just shut up," I protest, hiding my flushed face.

"Andy and Lex, sitting in a tree," she starts to sing with a shit-eating grin. "K-I-S-S-I—Oof."

The pillow I throw right in her face stops her, but it's quickly returned with the same strength, but I whack it mid-air to protect the cat. It's ridiculous how our personalities regress to our dumb teenage selves when we're together.

Kate stays silent for a moment, studying my face carefully. Before I can figure out what she's onto, her face lights up. "Oh, my God… You're in love with him!"

It isn't a question, so I don't answer. "Have you told him yet?"

I shake my head, wondering if I should mention I was very close to doing it a few times. But I didn't in case he doesn't love me back, or if it scares him, or if he'll remind me he isn't the relationship type…

"Are you planning on telling him at some point?" Kate carefully tries. I nod, and she smiles. "When?"

"When I'm sure."

"Of what?"

"That he feels the same way."

"Aw, Deedee… If I were him, I'd be on the verge of proposing by now."

"But you love me for sure, so you don't count. Can we get back on track, though? We need to handle your problem, K."

At the mention of the Stefano debacle, we bo th fall silent for a moment. Only the regular purring of Mr. Fluffybutt on my lap continues as I distractedly pet him.

"I still can't believe that fucking prick filmed you."

"Me neither. It looks like he taped us from the bookshelf in his room. I feel so violated, Deedee. The worst part is, if he had asked, I might have agreed to do it. Can you imagine? At least I can't hate myself for allowing him to film us. All I can do is hate myself for dating him in the first place."

"We should have seen it coming. Only someone mentally imbalanced would wear that much gel in their hair," I say. She always knew I hated him since I was pretty vocal about it in the past. But this isn't an I-told-you-so moment, so I don't remind her.

She turns herself into a tight ball as she always does when stressed, with her knees against her chest and arms around her folded legs. "He did wear too much gel, didn't he?"

"Absolutely. The first time I saw him, I remember thinking you could put a dictionary on his head, and nothing would move."

"One of those big ones, with thick pages and hardcovers." We laugh together softly, and silence slowly settles in the room again. She lays her temple on her knee. "Andy, what am I going to do?" she asks, despair making her voice crack.

"We'll find a way. We'll brainstorm together and get the video back, all the versions of it, and also make him pay for what he did to you."

"He knows the law in and out, Dee. I don't want you to be in danger because of me."

"I won't. You know the law, too. And we're smart as fuck. We can figure something out. You already thought about going to the cops, I imagine?"

"I've seen how they treat women who come in with a broken arm and a black eye. I don't even want to imagine how little they will care about my case. And Stefano said he'd leak it if I do."

Even a few minutes of it on the internet could damage Kate's reputation and social life. It's unfair how women get so hurt by leaked sex tapes, but the fucking pigs who spread them in the first place usually come out of it unscathed.

"My biggest worry is that he saved it somewhere, and even if he deletes something in front of us, he can still have it elsewhere and use it at some point," I explain. I have no way of knowing how many copies of it exist. For all we know, he can even have burned it on a DVD and hidden it in a book.

"Maybe we could—" Kate starts as my ph one rings in my pocket.

"Sorry," I grimace, struggling to reach for it because of the obese cat on my lap.

Mr. Fluffybutt jumps out of my lap anyway, and my eyebrows come together when I see my mom's face on the screen. I take the call and put the phone to my ear.

" Hola, mamá , what's up?"

"Andrea Grace Walker! ?Qué hice para merecer una hija como tú? " she yells in my ear. What did I do to deserve a daughter like you?

" ?Qué? " I ask, confused. Why is she pissed at me right now?

"Susan just passed by Kate's house, and she told me she saw your car there."

Mrs. Temple, that gossipy snitch…

"Mom, I'm sorry. Kate has an emergency. I'll come tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? ? Por Dios ! We haven't seen you for six months, and when you're finally back, you can't even come to the house?!"

I roll my eyes so hard I'm pretty sure I see my brain. "Mom, it's barely been two months, and Kate needs me."

She finally catches something's wrong, and her attitude changes entirely. "Oh, no… Is she okay?"

"She will be," I say, looking at my best friend with hope.

"You two are coming home tonight. You'll get a nice, warm meal, and you girls can have a sleepover in your bedroom like you used to."

"Mom, I don't think she's up for a sleepover right now." Kate understands what's happening, so she nods enthusiastically, urging me to accept my mom's offer. "Oh, actually, she… wants to… come?" I carefully reply. I set the phone on my chest, ignoring my mom's exclamations of joy, and turn to Kate. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, my God. Anything to get out of my head right now. And I miss your mom's cuisine."

I put the phone back to my ear, ready to negotiate the modalities of our detention. "Okay, Mom, I just arrived from a long drive, so we'll stay here a bit and then come to you."

"You will be just as good here. Oh, Rafa is thrilled to know you're coming. Your dad, too. And your abuela just pretended she doesn't remember who you are since you haven't called her in a week."

I look at Kate, who still needs to get ready, and myself, still wearing Lex's hoodie. Or my hoodie now—it's one of the unwritten laws of dating.

"Mom, we'll be there in thirty minutes. I can't do better than that," I offer.

"Okay. I'll prepare your bedroom while mamá works on dinner."

"Oh, MC is cooking," I enthusiastically whisper to Kate.

"Ugh, even better!"

Alright, we can do this. We'll head to my parents' place, feast on my abuela's food, and then figure out how to kill and bury Stefano without getting caught.

A s Kate and I walk to my parents' porch, I'm reminded of the hours we spent playing in the front yard, often with Rafa. Various toys used to be scattered over the lawn, but those times are long gone. In the backyard, there's a small pool where we spent entire summers, living off PB&Js and lemonade.

I knock using the dragon door knocker my dad installed against my mom's will three years ago. It's always strange to be a guest in what feels like my own house. Some activity happens inside, and soon enough, the door opens wide, revealing my mom's familiar silhouette.

Isabella Walker, born Ibanez, isn't precisely a coquettish woman, but she takes care of herself, trying not to let the years passing become too obvious. She's a little chubby despite counting calories and race-walking with her friends three times a week. And she dyes her hair to hide the growing number of white strands in it. Sometimes, like now, she doesn't have time to take care of her roots, so she wears a headband to maintain the illusion.

As unfeminist as it may sound, she was put on this earth to care for kids—always warm, compassionate, and sensible. That's why she's so good at teaching, and it explains why, at the end of every year, her students pitch in to offer her a thank-you gift. She can be strict at times but she's always fair, and I couldn't have asked for a better mother. And I'm a bad daughter for not coming back sooner.

But she doesn't mind, engulfing us both in a tight and motherly hug.

"I'm so happy you're here, my girls," she says, kissing each of us. The affectionate reunion lingers for a few seconds, and she eventually releases us before inviting us inside.

We follow her to the dining room, where Rafa and Dad have just finished setting the table.

Thanks to our video calls, I know Rafael has been growing a little scruff, almost a beard by now, so the sight doesn't shock me too much. Still, it's odd to see him with so much facial hair. He's tall, has our father's green eyes, and our mother's brown complexion. But we share curly dark hair, a straight nose, and p lump lips. People often tell us that we look a lot alike. It was a terrible insult during childhood, but now, we're both glad whenever someone points it out.

It's hard to be objective since his ugly mug has graced my life from the very beginning, but it's my understanding that he's a handsome devil. The fact that he's an artist on top of being deaf apparently makes for an irresistible combination. All he has to do is snap his fingers for ten women to rush in, ready to fulfill his every need. Somehow, people expect him to be a sweet and sensible guy. But it doesn't work like that. Rafael was destined to be a man-whore, deaf artist or not.

My father lets Rafa continue alone and comes to me.

"Hi, peanut," he greets me, giving me a tight hug and a quick kiss on top of my head.

"Hi, Dad."

As Kate gets the same treatment, I lovingly look at my dad.

Michael Walker is tall and—to my mother's great envy—lean without even trying. For as long as I can remember, my dad has worn the same model of rimless glasses and variations of blueish short-sleeved button-ups and beige pants. While his fast metabolism might help him age well, his receding hairline doesn't. For years, my mom has been trying to get him to buzz cut it all, insisting he would look like Bruce Willis, but he hangs on to what he has left with tenacity. Rafa and I don't want to get involved in this debate because we both know there's no way he'd ever look like the Die Hard actor.

I let my dad and Kate discuss, moving on with the salutations. Rafa and I fist-bump as I pass by him, and then I follow the mouth-watering smells to the kitchen.

The delicious-looking food surrounding my abuela almost makes me drool. She went overboard and prepared way too much. I'm not complaining, though. There are corn cobs, Pozole, homemade tortillas, fried rice, sautéed veggies, and I can see some meat roasting in the oven.

" ?Hola, MC! ?Cómo estás? " I ask her, using the street name Rafael and I teasingly picked for her. It was initially a joke, but it stuck around.

Maria Carmen Ibanez was busy her entire life, working hard to raise three children while earning a salary as a maid in a luxurious hotel. She's remained active since retiring, and one could never guess she's seventy-six. To her great pride, she can still do pretty much everything with impressive efficiency. Her quick wits also remain untouched by the years, and her repartee is legendary. I don't look much like my mother or father, but from what I've heard and the old, damaged pictures I've seen, I'm MC's spitting image. I certainly inherited her short height since both my parents are taller than average.

She barely pays me any attention, busy tasti ng the stew before her. " Estoy bien . Hand me the salt, mija ," she asks, without even turning toward me. Knowing how she gets when she cooks, I smile and obey swiftly.

When I reach her, she takes the salt from my hands and extends her cheek for me to kiss it. Once more, I comply, enjoying the familiar scent of her face moisturizer, and offer my cheek in return. She gives me a peck and returns to her cooking.

"Do you need any help?" I propose in Spanish.

"No, I'm almost done. Go make sure the boys set the table correctly, and you can tell everyone we're eating in five minutes."

When I'm back in the dining room, Rafa, Mom, and Kate are talking while Dad sets the wine glasses on the table, as well as two beers—for him and me.

Dinner unfolds nicely. It's delightful to be here, surrounded by my loved ones. The food is fantastic, and catching up with them is great. But I can't help it as my mind regularly drifts to another loved one, spending his evening alone instead of with me, as intended.

Fuck! I was supposed to text him when I arrived! I take my phone out swiftly and open my messages.

Me

Sorry, I forgot to text you!

Right after, typing bubbles appear.

Lex

It's alright. I figured you were busy and didn't want to bother you.

Me

You could never bother me.

For the duration of the dinner, my mind is divided between the conversation I'm having on my phone with Lex and the one with my family. Although I love my folks, I'm much more interested in whatever Lex texts me.

Lex

The suspense has been killing me. I think I might keep watching the movie without you.

Me

Don't you dare. This is our first movie together. You can't do that.

Lex

Fine. But next time you cut short one of our weekends together, I'll have to discipline you.

The temperature goes up at once as a delicio us warmth spreads through my body. Images of Lex sexually chastising me flood my mind.

Me

How would you do it?

There's a moment of nothing before the bubbles on his side appear again. Jesus Christ, I love when he takes charge. I'm not submissive in any other aspects of my life, but during sex, I turn into an absolute simp for him.

"Andy, have you been exercising?" my mom asks from the other side of the table.

I'm abruptly reminded of my surroundings, and my cheeks burn with shame. Dammit. My eyes fly to Kate's, who's biting back a smile.

"Oh, yes, she has," she answers for me. "She found an amazing coach in Seattle. She's very devoted to working out. You exercise what, at least three times a week now? Or is it three times a ni—"

Her attempt at exposing my illicit affair is cut short when I slam my hand on the table.

"Yes! I've been working out with Tamika a little. She's into Pilates. I swear, she's one good action away from becoming my main girl," I pretend, squinting my eyes at Kate. She doesn't take my threat seriously and holds back a grin.

When the topic changes and Kate isn't at risk of exposing my sex life to my entire family, I pick up my phone to see if Lex answered.

He did.

And holy fuck .

Lex

I need to win a bet first because you'll have to be tied up for this. Then, I think I'll work on a question I've had for a while now: how many times can I make you come with just my tongue in an hour? By the time I'm done answering it, you'll already be begging for mercy, spent, and feeling like you can't take more.

But you're being taught a lesson, so I say when we're done. I'll fuck you hard, pushing you further than what you think is possible. I'll make you come repeatedly until you are so raw you feel like your heart has relocated between your legs. It will only stop when I know you have actually reached your limit, and I'll come with you, filling your tight, overworked cunt with my cum.

Holy Mother of God…

That's so ridiculously hot, I'm forced t o squeeze my legs together, my clit palpitating at the naughty promises. Under my very proper clothes, I grow impossibly wet as my mind conjures images of what he described. Shit, the fantasy is so intense that I can almost feel Lex powerfully thrusting into my willing flesh. Goddamnit, Stefano will get so much shit—not just for what he did to Kate, but also for keeping me away from Lex.

I type my answer, holding back a conflicted chuckle.

Me

Alexander! My abuela is two chairs away from me!

Lex

Sorry, was it too much?

Me

No, but how dare you make me this wet during family dinner?!

Lex

Well, have a glass of water to stay hydrated.

I giggle, which attracts my mom's interest. I hide my phone better as I type:

Me

Screw the bet, baby. You can tie me up whenever you want.

Lex

You're not helping with my hard-on.

Me

I'm afraid you'll have to handle this one alone. Think of me while you do it?

Lex

Always.

Deciding it's enough slex talk over family dinner, I wish him good night and settle my phone face down, ready to keep my attention focused on the people around me.

About twenty minutes later, my mom and I are in the kitchen, finishing the dishes while the others are in the living room.

"So, who is he?" she asks out of the blue.

"What? Who?"

"That boy you're seeing."

"I'm—I'm not—"

"Oh, please. You've been blushing and giggling at your phone all evening long. I see teenagers do this every day. I know what it means."

Shit, busted …

"Uh… h is name is Lex. Alexander. And he isn't a ‘boy.'"

"Don't get sassy on me. For how long have you been seeing him?"

"Almost a month."

"It's a good start. Is he husband material?"

I laugh, both shocked and amused by her boldness. "Mom, slow down. I'm still trying to figure out if he's boyfriend material."

"Hmm… Is he handsome? Will my grandkids be gorgeous?"

" ?Por Dios, mamá! " I protest.

"Alright, alright. I'll stop."

The silence stretches, with only the sounds of the dishes distracting us. She probably has dozens of questions, but she holds back. "Could you not tell Dad?" I ask, not wanting the news to spread too fast. She nods, handing me a pan to dry.

Once we're done, I head upstairs to my room and fish my phone out of my pocket. There's only one person I know who has the potential to help Kate, and I hope he'll be able to do it.

"What's up, Hulkette?" Oli greets when he picks up.

"Hi, son of Jared. I need a favor. It's a bit tricky, so I'm just gonna go ahead and ask."

"Yeah, sure. I hope everything's fine," he says with slight worry.

"For me, yes. It's my best friend, Kate."

"What's going on?"

"Well, her ex is a fucking prick, is what's going on. He's got footage of her he's taken without her consent, and he's now threatening to leak it unless she gets back with him."

"Ouch, okay. That's fucked up."

"Yeah, I know. And I'm so worried he'll actually do it, Oli," I explain, sitting on my bed and grabbing my plush armadillo to hug it tightly.

"Do you want me to… take care of it?"

"You think you could get everything?"

"Yeah, that's what I do—among other things. Kate wouldn't be the first one I'm helping like this. I've done it dozens of times."

"Are you saying you're some sort of cyber knight in shining armor?"

He chuckles at the idea, and his assurance when he speaks again comforts me. "I guess you could say that, yes. It started with my sister when some asshole began harassing her on Instagram. I found him and scared the shit out of him. I made this super creepy threat video and essentially ruined the guy's computer by unleashing an army of viruses on it."

"Wow, that sounds extreme."

"Yeah, well, I wasn 't letting anyone make death threats to my baby sister. Anyhow, I'm known in the hacking community as the savior of ladies. Especially since I stopped doing anything else a while back."

I hesitate for the longest time, refusing to let him put himself in danger. But clearly, this wouldn't be his first rodeo.

"You're pretty good at this hacking thing, aren't you?" I ask.

"Let's say I can help your friend without breaking a sweat, Hulkette."

"If you do this, I'll owe you a huge one," I say, rolling onto my stomach.

"Nah, you really won't. You're actually giving me something to occupy the boring Sunday incoming." His insane kindness has me laughing with relief. God, this man is truly a gem, and whichever girl snatches him up will be very lucky.

Knocks on my door make us cut the call, and Rafael's tall frame enters my room. "Hi, dickhead," I sign.

"'Sup ass wipe?"

I bite the inside of my cheek, holding back my amusement. Old habits die hard. We didn't get along so well as kids, like most siblings, really. He was the big one, but I could be cruel. Like when I would close my eyes during an argument to rob him of his ability to communicate. I stopped doing that as soon as I realized how fucked up and unfair it was.

His charisma has been there for a while, and many of my girlfriends during our teenage years were infatuated with him. And sometimes, he indulged in their interest, only to crush their heart later on. The process usually left me with one less friend. So, after multiple debacles like this, we agreed I had the right to call dibs on certain girls, and he couldn't, under any circumstances, get into their panties. Kate was the very first one I claimed, even though there wasn't any risk there. Rafa always considered her a childish little sister as much as he does me.

Since I'm sprawled on the bed on my stomach, he pretends to sit on me, adding enough pressure to make me groan in protest. He moves up when I wriggle, allowing me to switch positions. As I'm bringing myself up, he harshly whacks the outer side of my ass.

"Ah, you dick!" I shout.

Swiftly turning around, I kick his side to shove him away in retaliation and send a soothing hand there to appease the burn from the violent blow. Damn, the whole area stings with pain.

"Be faster next time. Even abuela is in better shape than you," he signs as he sits down.

"What do you want?"

He suddenly looks serious before he signs. "Is Kate okay?"

"I'm working on it."

"Do you need help?"

I vaguely explain that her ex is causing trouble, keeping out the part about the sex tape since she doesn't want others to know. Rafa is glad to hear I already have a plan but still offers to beat the shit out of that Italian prick. As tempting as his offer is, I'm confident Oli can pull it off.

Stefano has no idea what's coming for him. I don't either, but I know it'll hurt.