Page 88 of The Secret Dinner

I wiped his saliva from my cheek with the back of my hand and poured myself a glass of milk. I grabbed two pieces of toast and, starving, gobbled them up. Before I started talking, I needed to fill my stomach.

“You look like you’re homeless,” said Cora.

I didn’t care, because I knew she was right.

“We need to talk. All of us,” I said, sniffing nervously. “We’ve gotten ourselves into some fucked-up shit.”

Cora and Piglet exchanged glances. Hugo continued to cook, unfazed.

“Miguel was murdered by Umberto’s people,” I said.

“What?” Hugo turned off the stove and came over. He swung the dishcloth over his shoulder with the ease of someone who lives in the kitchen. He pulled out a stool to take a seat. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Despite feeling like a freight train was barreling through my head, I calmly and objectively told them everything I knew, in the right order, so as not to lose their attention and ensure I got to the end without any interruptions. I could see the unease and curiosity grow in my friends’ eyes as I showed them the flyer from the bar and recounted my conversation with Umberto, the trip to the highway patrol station and the slaughterhouse, the evidence Miguel had gathered against us. Finally, I told them about Vladimir.

“You need to stop smoking that moldy weed, man,” said Hugo dismissively. “You’re paranoid.”

His deep-set green eyes, made even sexier by the outline of dark circles, were filled with pity. I placed my phone next to his plate and played the recording from the highway patrol station. Leaning against the kitchen counter for what felt like an eternity, they listened to the gunshots, the preposterous conversations, and the horrific screams that made the phone vibrate on the table. I managed to hold back my tears as I relived the nightmare. Little by little, I was becoming immune to the suffering of others.

The recording ended right when Umberto switched off my phone so we could enter the slaughterhouse. A heavy silence ensued, deepening the wounds of our guilt. We’d caused this. Piglet gulped down a glass of water.

“It has to be a lie.”

“Unfortunately, it’s not,” I insisted. “I know it’s sadistic. Insane. This whole thing has snowballed completely out of our hands … But we have to stick together, or we won’t get out of this alive.”

“So what do you suggest?” asked Cora. Her stunning, provocative beauty now seemed almost timid, hinting at the country bumpkin she’d once been.

“They have valuable leverage over us: information,” I replied. “We need something we can use against them, too. Miguel tried to go it alone and he ended up dead. I think if we’re careful, we can figure out where to find this Vladimir guy. He’s the one calling the shots. Umberto just follows directions.”

“But didn’t you say this guy is untouchable?” Hugo’s tone was still laden with contempt. “How are we going to get to him?”

“I’ve got some ideas. I sent the location of the highway patrol station to Cora’s WhatsApp.”

Cora opened our chat, scrolling until she reached the dropped pin. She handed me the phone.

“Here it is. You told me not to worry when I asked you what was up. I didn’t even really notice, because it was right when Miguel died.”

“It’s on the highway to Ilha Grande,” I said, looking at the map. “Maybe if we grease some palms, we can get a cop to snitch.”

“I’ll do it,” said Cora.

“That’s my baby girl!”

“I can get anybody to open their mouth.”

Piglet gave Cora a hug so tight I was afraid he would suffocate her. When he let her go, he stared at us with his gunky eyes.

“I’m going to hunt down this son of a bitch on the internet.”

“He may be invisible, but not to my lil’ Love Nugget. Get him!”

“Great,” I said. If anyone could find a digital trace of Vladimir, it was Piglet.

“I’ll also make a list of slaughterhouses in the area,” he added. “Don’t worry, Dante. We’ll find it.”

Sitting there in the company of my friends while my body digested the last of the drugs and the smell of herbs in Hugo’s omelet washed over me, I began to feel alive again, with a new dose of confidence. When he’d finished eating, Hugo put his dishes in the sink, then sat back down and turned to me.

“And what about the dinners?”