Page 2 of Corrupted Bride

“I do not! And it doesn’t matter if he’s good news or bad.” I straighten my blouse. “I’m a fine, upstanding member of this establishment, and I would never sully its good name by fraternizing with a guest.”

“Dunno what the fuck you said, but hey, walk with me a sec, alright?” Hector gestures with his chin.

“Cover for me?” I don’t wait for Sara to answer.

Hector and I walk along the back hall toward the big, industrial kitchens. There are a few other cooks and dish boys on duty tonight. Hector runs it all like a tiny Jefe, shockingly strict about what happens on the kitchen floor, though he doesn’t care about much beyond it.

“You got money for me?” he asks as we pause in the dim space outside the doors.

I pull a wad of cash from my back pocket and smack it down into his outstretched palm. “You always make this feel so shady.”

“You saying it’s not?” He licks his lips, glances around, and shoves it into his pants. “There’s a reason you got me sneaking around, girl.”

I check over my shoulder. My eyes cut to the security camera in the corner. If I didn’t know for a fact that it didn’t work, I’d be very worried right now. “We’re close now though, right? How short am I?”

He doesn’t need to answer. We both know I’ve been obsessively counting down. Ten thousand. Nine. Seven. Five. Two. One. And now, after this payment, there’s only one final installment before it’s mine.

All mine.

Sweet Fucking Freedom.

He runs a hand through his tangle of hair and his smile disappears. He gives me a long, searching look. “You sure you really wanna go through with this, flaca? Once the keys are yours, there’s no turning back.”

“You worry about your end. Have you talked to your guy?”

“He’s working on it.” Hector chews his lip. “But there’s a small wrinkle.”

I groan and hold up my hands. “Don’t try asking for more money. We talked about this⁠—”

“No, shit, it’s not like that.” He clears his throat. “A timing issue, that’s all. Papers aren’t fucking cheap and easy, you know? He says it’s coming, but he needs one more month.”

I lean my head against the wall. I could bash my skull in right now and wouldn’t feel a thing. “Hector. You’re killing me.”

“I know, I know, but I also know you’re gonna kill me if this shit falls wrong. So go easy, yeah?”

He’s right. I hate it too. I told myself I wouldn’t put anyone in danger ever again, but here I am, forced to rely on Hector’s good will.

Although I’m pretty sure selling me a car doesn’t count as actual charity.

I rub my forehead to fight off a headache. “Fine, it’ll be fine, okay? I appreciate everything you’re doing.”

“Yeah, flaca, no worries. I got you. Hell, you’re paying for it, you know?” He laughs nervously. “I should get back.”

“Wait. Hold on. Can I see it one more time?”

“I should send you the fuckin’ picture,” he complains as he takes out his phone.

But we both know why he can’t do that.

On his screen is a vehicle. It’s square, boxy, mostly black with dark gray detailing in the front and along the rear wheel well. It’s in good shape for a car from 2004.

And to me, it’s freedom.

Sixty-thousand miles. Fresh tires. Fresh oil. A full tank of gas.

A Honda Element.

It’s not beautiful, but it’s going to be mine.