“You got laid.”
That’s my greeting as soon as I enter the dorm room.
My roommate, Ollie, sits on her bed, studying me as I shut the door. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail, with her unruly curls exploding behind her head.
The dorm room has single beds and a desk for each of us. It’s a small, nondescript room, but Ollie has decorated the walls with colorful tapestries. I don’t spend much time here; I often do my work in the library, preferring the regulated quiet there instead of the booming chaos in the dorm hallways.
Ollie crosses her legs and pulls her comforter up over her lap, so I’m not gifted with the sight of her underwear. Her blue eyes fill with glee. “Tell me everything.”
Heat blooms on my cheeks, and I toss the maroon-colored suit jacket on top of my still-made bed.
“Come on, Soph,” she grouses at my silence. “Which boring, stuffy, stick-up-their-ass boy from the industry mixer did you shag?”
As my blush deepens, her eyes widen, and she sits up on her knees. “Oh. My. God. You shagged someone from the business mixer that wasn’t a student.”
Her high-pitched squeal assaults my ears, and I grab my shower bag from my closet. Hearing Ollie get off the bed, I’m not surprised to find her behind me when I turn around.
“Who was it?” She jumps up and down, making her curls bounce.
I roll my eyes. “Come on, Ollie. It was just a one-night stand.”
Her eyes get more impossibly huge. “Just… A one-night…” she sputters. “Who the hell are you, and what have you done with my roommate?” She laughs, then grabs my hands. “You’ve evaded all advances since you got here. This is huge, Soph. You’re—”
“I’m here to get an education, Ollie.” I haven’t been the most social since arriving here, and yes, I have shut down any guy showing any interest in me—either outright or by using my innocent-I-have-no-idea-that-you’re-hitting-on-me schtick. “I have goals—”
“Yes,” she cuts me off like I had cut her off. “But that doesn’t mean your cooch can’t have fun.” She takes my shower bag and tosses it onto my bed, then pulls me to sit down, turning serious. “Soph, you know you can’t be all work and no play, right? It’s okay for you to have some fun while achieving your goals.”
Ollie is a sophomore, and even though I know she’s speaking from experience, and this isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation, I still resist. I’m a queen introvert, and college parties aren’t my scene, especially not when my family relies on me. But I’ve said all this to Ollie before. She hasn’t stopped trying to change my ways, but thankfully, she’s eased up on the intensity.
“Getting drunk or high at a frat party isn’t my idea of fun,” I say.
“Don’t have to tell me that, girl.” She snorts. “Even though you seem to have an ‘in’ for the best frat parties with Zac Watkins.”
I roll my eyes, hiding my secret friendship with Zac. “He’s in two of my classes. That’s not an ‘in’.”
“Please,” Ollie drawls. “Quarterback. All-star jock, going places. He doesn’t just study with anyone. Fuck, I’m not even sure why he studies. He’ll get drafted, for sure.”
I get up off the bed, very much over this conversation.
Suddenly, she shoots to her feet. “Was it Zac’s pole you climbed last night?”
I wince at her vulgarity, and she laughs at my innocence. However, thinking back to last night, plus this morning’s wake up blowjob for Creed, I’m not exactly as innocent as everyone thinks.
“No. I did not sleep with Zac last night or ever. We’re partners for a group assignment, plus we’ll sometimes study for accounting. That’s it.”
Zac and I don’t exactly run in the same circles. On the outside, he’s a man-whore and douche canoe with a capital D. However, I know the real person he hides from the world. And I’ll keep his secret because it isn’t mine to tell.
Before Ollie can push me for more information, my phone saves me. When I see who is calling, I bite my lip.
Ollie sees my call display flashing Tio Antonio and gives me an understanding look. “You can’t avoid him forever, Soph.”
I sigh and answer Antonio’s call. “Hey.” I leave our dorm room and move into the hallway, hurrying to the stairwell.
“Hey?” Antonio grounds out. “Hey, Sophie Camilia Demeanus? That’s all you have to say?”
I jog down the three flights of stairs toward the lobby to find a place with some privacy. I’ve been a little shit to Antonio and our grandparents over the past few months—not on purpose. I was in a bad head space and needed to work through that on my own.
“You don’t return our calls or texts for weeks, Soph. And when you finally answer, all you have to say is ‘hey’?”
Outside, I find a bench across the walkway to the campus quad. “I’ve been busy getting an education, bettering my life for my family.”
My words comes out sharper than I intended, and there’s a beat of silence on the other end of the line.
“You know that’s not your responsibility, right, firefly?”
Tears burn behind my eyes. It’s been a while since Antonio has called me firefly. It’s a stupid nickname, but he told me he always thought of me whenever he needed a light in the dark.
“You should do what you want to do,” he says softly. “If school isn’t it, or it isn’t right for you now, then that’s fine. Abuela and Abuelo have no expectations except that you’re happy, Soph. There’s no big grand plan for you to get a higher education to support your family. They don’t need that.”
I feel the weight of my guilt. After my mom died, I felt like a drain on my grandparents’ resources and energy. Mamá never allowed my father to have anything to do with me. She’d never accept his money—blood money from his employer, the Garcia Cartel.
My guilt is compounded by what I had done after my mom died, and I had a severe moment of deranged weakness. I felt alone, even though I was the furthest thing from that, because Antonio, my grandparents, and all my young cousins rallied around and loved me. But losing my mom made me spiral and not think straight. Stupidly, I craved a connection with my estranged father, reasoning he was my only living parent, and I sought him out. I let myself believe in a fantasy that he wasn’t as bad as everyone had warned me about, that he loved me.
But he was more awful than what Mamá had warned. I still shudder every time I think about what had happened, and a sheen of sweat breaks out on my skin. I never told anyone, and in the months since, I withdrew, feeling so disappointed in myself for not heeding my mom’s warnings and guilty for going against my grandparents’ wishes. That’s why I have been avoiding my family these past months.
I swallow my guilt. “I want to give back to them what they’ve given me.”
“Mi dulce chica… My sweet girl, you have a heart of gold.” Antonio sighs. “Supporting our family isn’t your weight to carry. And Abuela and Abuelo are fine.”
“You’re one to talk,” I scoff. “You send money home every week.”
“I’m older. Settled and successful.”
Antonio is over ten years older than me and a music executive in New York. Some of his biggest clients and closest friends are Lok Bello—an internationally famous EDM DJ—and Severyn Andrews, a songwriter-musician who had blasted on the scene and rocketed to fame working with A-list bands and musicians.
“How’s Miguel?” I change the subject and bring my feet up on the bench. I tuck my knees under my chin, watching people slowly leave the dorms to get on with their Sunday morning.
Antonio makes a snarky noise, telling me that he knows I’m diverting the conversation from what I continue to avoid talking with him and our grandparents about. He lets it go, though. “Miguel is good.”
There’s a strain in his voice, and I frown. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, Soph.”
“Antonio…”
I’m not the distant and cold hag I’ve been acting like these past few months, and my heart pangs. The distance between Antonio and me isn’t normal. Physical distance is because he lives in New York; however, the mental and emotional distance between us is new. We’ve always been close, even with the ten-year-plus age difference.
Wanting to bridge this new gap between us, I press, “You can talk to me. You know that right Tio?”
“You’re now nineteen and think you’re all grown up, pequeña y dulce niña?” Sweet little girl. There’s no bite to his words, only a gentle teasing.
“I got my Grown-Up card in the mail just last week,” I say, making him laugh, which settles my heart somewhat.
He chuckles again, and then I can hear him turn somber. Antonio is rarely somber; he’s energetic, light, joking, and big smiles. “You may be nineteen, but we both know you’re wise beyond your years, don’t we?”
“Yeah, we do.”
After Antonio, I am the next oldest grandchild. When he moved away, I became the surrogate head of our brood, the caregiver to our younger cousins. I have natural maternal instincts, and I never wanted any of my younger cousins to feel unloved or unwanted, like how the situation with my estranged father had made me feel.
“Is everything with Miguel okay?” I ask about his boyfriend.
“Miguel is fine… just some work concerns.”
But I know it’s more than that; otherwise, Antonio wouldn’t have hesitated or resisted the way he did.
“Something happening with the club?” I ask.
Miguel is the head of security at a popular nightclub, and only a few people know he also owns the club.
“He’s trying to stop things from going down at the club,” Antonio admits.
“What do you mean? Like drug deals or something?”
Like that would happen. I think about the students I go to school with; if you wanted something, there was always ways to get it.
“I’d rather not talk about this, firefly. How are your classes?”
“No,” I bark.
He chuckles softly. “Well, that’s new.”
“Just tell me what’s up.” Resting my chin on my knees, I hear him sigh.
“You remember my friend, May Antel?”
“The philanthropist event planner extraordinaire?”
May is a whiz at organizing events to raise buckets of money for the causes she supports.
“Pequeña y dulce niña…” Antonio chokes.
“Tio, what is it?” I ask, alarmed.
He sniffs. “That you would remember her and refer to her that way…”
I get it. I could have said, ‘Oh, May, your friend whose mom, the senator of Massachusetts, was knee-deep in running a human trafficking ring, along with trialing a behavior-control drug to use on the victims? That May?’
The sins of the parents shouldn’t reflect on the child, though—I’ve lived that my whole life. I empathize with May and what she must be going through. It isn’t just that her mom was wrapped up in criminal things; she was wrapped up and led criminal and heinous things. May would likely be trying to understand how her mother could do what she did. She’d likely be thinking that if she shares blood with someone who could do something so horrifying and horrendous—was it nature or nurture? Both?
I share blood with that person… Could I be just like them?
Those thoughts had plagued my conscience about my father more often than I cared to admit.
“Is the senator out of jail?” I ask.
“No, it doesn’t look like her power and connections are going to get her out of this one.” Relief is evident in Antonio’s voice, which confuses me more about how this loops back to Miguel and his stress at work. I say as much to Antonio, and he sighs. “Firefly, I don’t want to get into this.”
“It’s concerning you,” I nudge him. “Come on, talk to me. I’m across the country; it’s not like this will taint my world.”
He sighs again. “The ring that the senator was involved in was dismantled, but that doesn’t mean the people involved have all been brought to justice and are happy about what has happened. There are rumors—”
I frown. “What rumors? From where?”
“In Miguel’s line of work… He has some connections with ears to the ground in the lesser talked about layers of the world.”
AKA the criminal underworld. I get it, even if I truly didn’t. I’m not part of that life, but I view the world differently than most nineteen-year-olds do because of who my father is.
“Rumors about what?” I prod.
“That the Mancini family in Boston used that human trafficking ring for their flesh peddling.”
Italian mafia, I hiss silently. “But that’s Boston; you and Miguel are in New York.”
“Boston ports are being closely scrutinized. And since the supply chain,” I visualize Antonio making air quotes, “that Mancini relied on is gone, they’ll be looking for other sources.”
“Are missing persons reports up?”
Frick, this is New York we’re talking about. People go missing or are found dead all the time, even without this heinous trafficking ring.
“Miguel is doing whatever he can to ensure no one is grabbed from the club. Places like that are ripe for victim-picking.”
People out having a good time, alcohol, drugs… with not a care in the world, not being as aware as they should be…
How the heck would Miguel do that? And his club is just one club in New York.
“That’s like a boat the size of the Titanic popping a leak every inch. How the hell could you stop and fix them all?”
Short answer: you can’t. You’re screwed, and that boat is going down.
“We can only do our part, firefly.” I can hear the exhaustion in his voice.
“Do you want me to come for a visit?”
“This is the last place I want you, pequeña y dulce niña.”
I don’t tell him that there is crime and people who abuse others everywhere. Instead, I suggest, “Maybe you and Miguel could come here for a visit?”
“I’d like that. I’ll see what I can do about getting Miguel to take some time away.”
I know they want to come, but I wouldn’t hold my breath. With the amount of work Antonio did—plus he is mentoring two eighteen-year-old musicians and ensuring they don’t get taken advantage of by the leeches in the industry—and with what it sounded like Miguel was dealing with, I knew it would be hard to get away. I don’t hold that against Antonio or Miguel; I totally got it.
“Take care of yourself, Tio.”
“I will. You, too. And don’t be a brat again and ignore my texts and calls. Or Abuela’s. You know how she worries.”
“I’ll check in with her every few days,” I promise.
“Keep your nose clean and your head in those books. Te amo, Sophie.”
“Yo también te amo. I love you, too, Antonio.”
I hang up and pocket my phone, surveying the campus around me.
I miss my family, but I have a great opportunity here—one to carve my path to the future, where I can get a job that pays well and help support my family. It doesn’t have to be a career that fills my cup or makes my soul content—that is secondary. My family comes first, always.
And that means no distractions. It means books and studying, no parties or living it up.
No insanely gorgeous, hot, tatted, muscular, tall man who can make me come—first one ever—and make me come so hard it nearly causes me to blackout.
No, I definitely did not need that distraction.
Not only because I’m here on a scholarship and need to keep my grades up but also because I’m here with a purpose and a goal. Get an education for a good, stable job to help my family, and to hopefully do some good in the world, unlike my father.
My mom, grandparents, and even Antonio have warned me it wasn’t just the cartels I needed to avoid. There are other crime organizations or factions, like the Italian mafia, the Russian mafia called the Bratva, and criminal motorcycle clubs.
I don’t know which criminal faction, if any, controls San Diego. I’m an ostrich burying my head in the sand—don’t ask, don’t tell—because I have no intention of getting wrapped up in that world. I’ll keep to my innocent path, head down and studying, no partying or drugs, and do what I’ve come here to do.
I am Sophie Demeanus. No one knows my father is Geraldo Ortez, a sicario for the Garcia Cartel.
I keep my social circle small—my main friends are only Ollie and Zac. There is zero chance of me getting drawn into the criminal world.
I’m here to get my education, a respected business degree. I’m here to make my path to a good life for my family.
I have goals and a plan, with no room for distractions.
Period.
