Dirty Angels

So I said yes and tried to believe I meant it. If I said no, I would be killed. There was no doubt about that. No woman turned down Salvador Reyes, not for a date, not for marriage.

“I will treat you like a princess,” he had said to me, a stupid, lopsided grin on his pockmarked face. “And you will have everything you ever wanted. You’ll be richer than the President.”

And that’s when I found the tiny shred of hope to cling to. By marrying the country’s most notorious drug lord, a man who had politicians and police under his thumb, a man with more money than he probably knew what to do with, I would be buying myself safety from everyone but him, and I would be buying me and my parents a life we would never get to experience otherwise. I would no longer have to work for Bruno. I could have my mother and father taken care of and their every whim catered to.

It was at that thought that I was finally able to give Salvador a genuine smile. He responded by kissing me for the first time, his mustache tickling my upper lip. I wished it could have meant something to me, but all I could do was concentrate on the two competing feelings in my chest: relief.

And dread.

“Did you say yes?” my mother asked quietly, snapping me back to reality, to the kitchen table with the one wobbly leg, to the overhead fan that did nothing to disperse the hot air, to my father’s kind but desolate eyes as he stared curiously at my mother, perhaps seeing her for the first time today.

I nodded and dabbed at my mouth with the napkin. “I did. It is for the best, Mama, you will see.”

She gave me a fu

“He has a lot of money, I told you. He will take care of me and I can take proper care of you.” I quickly reached across the table and put my hand on hers. “Mama, please, this is a good thing.”

“Then why can’t I hear it in your voice? You are anything but happy.”

“I am happy,” I said. “I will be happy. In time. It’s all so new and…”

“And so who is this man who you suddenly agreed to marry?”

“You don’t really know him,” I said carefully. “But he has a lot of power and a lot of influence.”

“And what does he do?” she asked, her voice taking on a strange steely quality. She knew that no wealth in our country came honestly.

There was nothing for me to do but tell the truth. The truth would hurt her, but it would also keep her safe.

“His name is Salvador,” I said. “And he is in charge of a cartel.”

My mother’s mouth dropped open while my father muttered the first words I’d heard from him all evening. “Salvador Reyes,” he said, musing over it. “He is a bad, bad man.” Of course he could forget his own wife and daughter sometimes, but a notorious drug lord lived in every memory.

“Luisa,” she said breathlessly. “You can’t be serious.”

I gave her a tight smile. “Unfortunately, I am.”

“Salvador Reyes. The Sal? The drug lord? The jackal?” She shook her head and folded her hands in her lap. “No. No, I refuse to believe this.”

“But it is the truth.”

“But why? Why here? Why you?”

“I wish I could say, Mama. I don’t know. He thinks I am beautiful and worthy of a better life.” He thinks I am worthy of his bed.

She snorted caustically. “A better life? Who does he think he is? Has he been here? We are not living in squalor, Luisa. We have everything that we need right here.”

“No, we don’t!” I yelled, surprised by the ferocity in my voice. “Every day I struggle to get by, for you, for Papa. And it’s still not enough.”

She rubbed her lips together, taken aback. I could see the wash of shame on her face and I immediately regretted losing my temper.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “You know I’ve done everything to take care of the both of you and I’ll do whatever I can to keep doing so. This is an opportunity—”

“This is a death sentence,” she muttered.

Her words sent cold waves down my spine. I swallowed hard. “No,” I said, though I didn’t believe it myself. “He can protect me. I will go and live with him in a mansion in Culiacán. I will be safe, safer than anyone in the country. And you will be safe too. I will make sure that you and Papa are taken care of, you can live with us on the compound or stay here, in some place really nice. I will do whatever it takes. I am doing this for you.”

She just shook her head, a few strands of her greying hair coming loose around her face. “This is wrong. You deserve to marry a man for love, not money.”

“Maybe I can learn to love him. Maybe he can learn to love me.”

Her mouth twisted into a sad smile. “Oh, Luisa, I know you are not that naïve! He is a drug lord. They do not know how to love a fellow human being. They only love money and they only love death. He will never love you. He will have other women on the side. You will never be able to leave. You will become a prisoner of his life.”

Is it any different than being a prisoner to this life? I thought to myself. I sighed. “You know I have no choice. Whether I’ll love him or not, whether he’ll love me or not, you know I can’t say no.”

“There are always choices, my daughter. God gave you free will to make them.”

“Then I am choosing to die later instead of dying now.”

I thought my mother would admonish me for talking so fatalistically, but she understood. There was nothing easy or right about this situation, so there was nothing left for me to do but try and make the best of it.

“You deserve so much more,” she finally said, staring at nothing.

I looked pointedly at her and my father. “As do the both of you. And now, we shall have more. Let’s just ignore the cost for now.”

She nodded and went back to her food, picking aimlessly at the chicken that had grown cold. Now that she knew of the weight on my shoulders, she didn’t have an appetite either.

The next day I had my final shift at the bar. My mother thought I was crazy, but Papa had instilled such a good work ethic in me that it was hard to shake. Despite everything Bruno had done to me over the years, he had provided me with a job and the means to take care of my parents, and I couldn’t just leave without warning. The moment Salvador had asked me to marry him and told me he would be taking care of me from now on, I gave Bruno one week’s notice.

I have to admit, it was a bit sad to say goodbye. As I stood behind the bar and looked over the people in the booths, laughing over drinks, I forgot about all the times I was treated like dirt by customers and forgot about being afraid of Bruno’s advances. I only remembered the comfort and security, as false as it had been. Faced with the infinite unknown of my new life, the job had seemed so simple and safe.

“I’m going to miss you,” Camila said after she’d hugged me for the millionth time that day. She held me by my shoulders and leaned in, her eyes inquisitive as they searched mine. “And I’m going to worry about you, you know.”

I nodded, trying to keep my posture straight, my face falsely confident. “Don’t worry about me. I am better off.”

She frowned, and her eyes flitted over to Bruno who was standing by the entrance and hitting on the hostess. “Perhaps so. But as obnoxious and disgusting as Bruno can be, he is not Salvador Reyes.”

“Don’t worry about me,” I repeated, looking her hard in the eyes.

She smiled softly and squeezed my shoulders before letting go. “Then I won’t.”

The rest of the shift went smoothly, with the staff and Bruno giving me a small slice of cake at the end. We all did shots to honor my departure, and Bruno gave me a very proper, very professional handshake, wishing me well in the future. As much as I wanted to spit in his face and take advantage of his newfound respect for me, I played polite and silently hoped that one day karma would come knocking at his door.