CHAPTER FIVE
ALEJANDRA
A QUINCEAÑERA MARKS YOUR FIFTEENTH birthday and your coming out. Eighteen years of age marks your passage into adulthood. At twenty-one, you can legally order an alcoholic drink. Twenty-five makes you an adult. Right?
But, when you come from a family like mine, none of that matters.
No matter how old you are or how big you are, you will always find yourself answering to your parents. In my case, my grandparents. To be exact, mi abuelita.
“Wear this.” She holds up a loose, flowy, soft navy blue jersey dress that has maroon flowers splattered across it.
“No.”
“And those heels.” She points to the nude, two and a half inch heels in my closet, refusing to acknowledge my refusal.
“No,” I sullenly answer, crossing my arms over my chest to emphasize my protest.
“Oh! Those are cute heels. A little short, but cute nonetheless.” Teresa runs to said heels, picks them up, and inspects them. “The dress is cute, too. Not that I’d wear it, not my style, but cute.” She nods her approval.
“You’re not helping.” I turn my scowl on her.
“You’re going to wear it, and you’ll like it,” my grandmother orders. “Now, get dressed. You need to go pick up the meat.”
“Can I go with her?” Teresa asks hopefully.
“No,” my grandmother answers just as I go, “Yes.”
“No,” Abuelita repeats sharper.
Teresa concedes, but I don’t. “Why not? And, why can’t I wear my jeans?”
“Because I said so,” Abuelita replies, in that tone of voice that invites no further discussion.
“But I want to wear my jeans and t-shirt.”
“And, I told you, you are wearing this dress and those shoes. And makeup. Good looking makeup. End of discussion.” She looks at me, her gaze strong and unwavering.
“But—”
“No, buts. Or I will stuff you in that dress like the chorizo your abuelo loves so much is stuffed into its intestinal casing.”
“Ew!” I make a face. “I didn’t need that visual, especially since I like to eat the chorizo, too.”
“Then, get dressed. Teresa, make sure her face is done right.” With that final command, she turns and leaves the room.
“Fine!” I call out, needing to have the final word. “But I’m wearing my maroon sneakers.”
“Fine!” she yells back.
I growl and mumble, “You’d figure I am old enough to pick—”
“I can hear you!” Her shout catches me by surprise, making me jump.
Looking up, I see she’s nowhere near my door. How in the world?
My eyes meet Teresa’s. She makes a face, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Really, Tere? You’re going to stand down when I need you?” My lips form a thin line as I give her a “look.”
“Chica, ask me to help you against your cousins, and I will. To face a large gathering of snakes, those nasty creatures you find every now and then at your job sites, I’ll learn to wield a machete like a boss. Ask me to squad up against a crowd of petty bitches, I’m at your side throwing down. But, and I emphasize, but…ask me to face down your grandmother, girl,” she draws out, “and it’s peace out, babe.” She throws out the peace out sign with a serious face.
I try to hold onto my frustration, but Teresa is just too damn funny. A chuckle escapes, turning into a full-blown, belly laugh.
The two of us collapse on my bed.
After several minutes of laughing, calming down, and then starting up all over again, I finally settle. Taking deep breaths, I lean back against my head board. “I don’t get why she’s on my case to wear a dress. She knows I only where t…that thing for church and special occasions.”
“So, you’re wearing a dress for the party?”
“Yes,” I answer, resigned. “She picked it out, insisting it was very important that I wore a suitable dress. It’s hanging in the closet with ‘appropriate,’ matching shoes. She’s been acting weird, Tere.” I sigh.
“Maybe, she has a guy she wants you to meet. She’s been trying to matchmake lately,” Teresa adds mischievously.
“But at The Meat Market or at the party?” I turn my head to meet her eyes.
She smiles and waggles her eyebrows suggestively. “I’ve heard the butcher is to die for.”
“He’s good-looking, but the doctor was so much better,” I add.
“You never know. I wouldn’t put it past Abuelita to have something up her sleeve.”
“Nah.” I shake my head. “She’s running around getting the last-minute details worked out for the party, and then there was my hospital visit. She’s too busy, with too much on her mind, to try anything underhanded. Nah,” I add again and shake my head, she wouldn’t.
This event is too important for my grandmother to risk ruining with a matchmaking scheme. But, that nagging feeling that something isn’t right won’t seem to go away.
One hour later, I’m standing in front of the butcher. That grin of his is driving me crazy and makes my hands itch to wipe it off his face. He’s looking at me like he knows something that I don’t. A feeling I hate when my cousins play that game with me, and a feeling I hate now.
“Well, where’s the order?” I decide to cut to the chase.
“Almost ready,” he answers, that grin still on his handsome face. “Would you like a pop or something while you wait?”
“No, thank you.” I may be irritated and feeling off, but Abuelita instilled the manners of a lady, or there’d be hell to pay.
Instead of chit-chatting, I turn my attention to the wall, to the different posters indicating the different parts of the animals and their cuts of meat.
Checking out the watch on my wrist, I sigh. It’s been fifteen minutes, and nothing.
The bell dings, announcing the arrival of a customer, but I ignore it. I don’t much feel like making small talk while I wait. I had enough of the petty attitude from some of the women from my last visit. Today, I’m in a decent mood and don’t need some uppity person spoiling it.
“Here you go, shorty.” The butcher breaks the silence and uses the universal nickname Chicagoans use to refer to a girl or someone younger.
Smiling, I turn to him. That smile falls, and my brows furrow in confusion, when I notice the counter is empty. Nary a tube or slice of chorizo in sight.
“There.” The butcher takes pity on me and points to the front door.
Since I did order a large quantity of meat, a delivery to my vehicle would actually be nice, so I start to relax. Words of farewell are at the tip of my tongue, but they disappear when my eyes meet the vision standing in front of the door.
My breath audibly hitches, and I can only pray my mouth is closed and not drooling.
¡Dios, mío!
It’s the doctor. The very same one who drove me insane with sexual need while he held my hand and ran his fingers over my calloused palm and the area under my right index finger. The one I wanted to throw myself at before I tore his clothes off and had my way with him. The one I wanted to lick to my heart’s content and take into my mouth because with a face like his, and the size of his hands and feet, his lower appendage can only be big, thick, and very satisfying.
“There’s your chorizo.” The butcher sounds just a tad too amused. Why? And…did he just— “One hundred and eighty pounds of only the best, highest-quality chorizo, at your service.”
No. I couldn’t have heard him right.
No! This can’t be happening.
My head shakes furiously.
“Yes, Alej.” The butcher now sounds close to laughter. “Only the very best for you.”
ANTONIO
“No. No. No!”
The beauty before me shrills, jumpstarting my heart. Her screech is so high-pitched, I wince, massage my ears, and fear the glass will shatter.
The butcher cringes and steps back when she snaps her fury to him.
I’m unsure what the hell is going on, but seeing Jax’s older brother backing away from a curvaceous, sprite of a woman is hilarious. Instead of being put off by her screams, I’m even more turned on. That dress of hers…so much easier to run my hands up her thighs to her warm center, because yes, I’m going to be touching her.
The decision was made when I laid eyes on her face.
When she left the hospital, I never thought I’d see her again. When her cousins had that “little chat” with me, I didn’t think she would understand my side occupation, but seeing her here…she’s the one that ordered me. It’s fate. Shit like this doesn’t happen in real-life, only in those romance stories my mother likes to read, but it’s happening now. To me. I’m smart enough to take this gift and be a greedy bastard. I’ll enjoy the hell out of it. For the next couple of days, she’ll be mine.
“No!” Her voice breaks through my thoughts. “What the hell is this?” She punctuates her question by pointing to me.
At my lascivious grin, she shakes her head, as if trying to free herself. That turns my grin into a smile because she’s as affected by me as I am by her.
Now, if we can only settle whatever this is that has her in a snit, I can get on with enjoying the delicious morsel I know as Alejandra.
She mumbles to herself, and several words fall from that luscious mouth of hers, surprisingly colorful, filthy words, that would be a turn-off coming from other women, but not from her. They fit her, just like her hand will fit around my cock. Like her wet, dark red-colored stained lips will fit, taking my dick deep down her throat. How my hands will fit covering her full, perky breasts and caressing every curve of that masterpiece that’s her body.
I see her field of work has rubbed off on her in more ways than just calloused hands, and that makes me feel lighter. I don’t have to watch my mouth around her.
She’s the woman of my dreams.
“Where are my one hundred and eighty pounds of chorizo?” she continues.
“There.” The butcher points to me, and I wave.
“I’m not taking t…that man. I want my meat, the one you mix with huevos to make mouthwatering delicacies, and I want it now,” she demands.
“Sweetheart.” I decide to finally intervene. “I’m it, baby. One hundred and eighty pounds of pure, Mexican, high-quality chorizo. At your service.” I even bow, knowing it will drive her insane. She is, after all, according to her cousins, the princess of her family.
“Take him away. I demand my money back. Now.” She’s a fiery dark-haired beauty, so fucking adorable and hot.
Jason’s eyes meet mine. He’s struggling just as hard as I am to not laugh.
“There’s no refund, shorty,” Jason informs her, trying to sound forlorn. “It said so on the forms you filled out.”
“I thought I was filling out a meat order n…not that.” She waves her hand at me.
“Well, you did. You signed and initialed, agreeing with all the terms, and you paid.”
“B…but…” She deflates before my eyes, the fight going out of her.
I step up to her and cradle her chin, tilting her eyes to mine. “I had to take two days off work to come here for you, Alejandra. I’m here, and there’s no turning back, sweetheart. Let’s get out of here so you can calm down. Okay?”
“My grandmother is going to be livid.” Her eyes are clear, yet her voice sounds small—completely at odds with the Alejandra I’ve heard so much about.
“Alej,” Butcher calls her name. “There’s nothing I can do. You did fill out the forms and paid up-front. It’s final. I’m sorry, but that’s company policy. You can refuse him, but I’ll be keeping your money.” He gives her a small, apologetic smile. “I hope there’s no hard feeling.”
“I really feel like kicking you between your legs with my steel-toe boots and smashing your face against the counter. Right now, is not the time to be asking if we’re okay.”
“Noted.” He chuckles, and I smile.
She’s going to be okay.
“Let’s get out of here, and we can plan his demise together.” I urge her toward the door.
Sighing in resignation, she moves forward.
Looks like this job won’t be so bad after all.