“I wouldn’t go there,” I mutter to her as we enter the spa, leaving my guards stationed at the entrance. “Matter of fact, I wouldn’t get involved with anyone who works for my father.”
Tamara snorts. “What makes you think I want to get involved with him?” she asks. “I’m just interested in fucking him.”
She says it casually, but it leaves me reeling. Maybe because it’s just such a foreign idea.
What must it be like to do something just because you can? Just because you feel like it?
The spa has exactly two tones, pearly greys and muted ivories. I know it’s meant to promote calm and healing, but to me, it feels lackluster, completely devoid of personality or life.
We’re greeted by a petite blonde woman who is as pale as her surroundings.
She leads us to a private room, which is, surprise surprise, as white and dull as the rest of the spa.
“Please make yourselves comfortable,” she says with a smile. “I’ll be back with some refreshments for you both.”
The moment the door is closed, I turn to Tamara, feeling the immense need to unburden myself. “He’s trying to marry me off, you know. My father.”
Tamara’s eyes grow wide. “You’re only twenty-two!”
“Apparently, that doesn’t matter,” I say. “Nothing I want matters. And I don’t think it ever will.”
“You need to get out of here.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “That’s exactly what I need to do. But I can’t see a way out of this life.”
“No,” Tamara says, shaking her head, “I mean, out of this spa. What you need is to take control of your life, and it starts with baby steps.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s an elaborate plan to get yourself to a club tonight.”
Tamara puts a manicured hand on my leg. “Okay, forget about me. What do you want to do today?”
“Does it matter?”
Tamara squeals in delight and claps her hands together excitedly. “Then it sounds like my plan is the winner!”
I just sigh. “Have you forgotten the two armed guards waiting outside this spa for us?”
She rolls her eyes dismissively. “Please, girl. I’ve been sneaking out since I was thirteen years old,” she says. “Those two don’t scare me. If they happen to catch us… well, they’ll just have punish us, won’t they?” She winks flirtatiously.
I can’t help but laugh. “You’re insane.”
“Come on. Let’s go,” Tamara says enthusiastically. “Pretty please?”
I realize how much I actually want to go.
A night out with my cousin—who has never even heard of the concept of having something to worry about—sounds like the perfect antidote to all my despair.
But then I think of Miguel.
The image of him beaten and bloodied on that chair has haunted me for days now.
What happened to him was my fault.
“I don’t know,” I say nervously. “Let’s just enjoy our spa appointments, okay? We don’t have to do anything reckless right now.”
Tamara sighs noisily but I ignore her and swap my clothes out for the soft robes that were left for us.
I settle on the spa table and try to relax, but I realize how tense my body is. No matter how much I try to breathe, I can never get enough air into my lungs.
This is what my life is going to be for the next several decades.
Perfect.
Pampered.
And completely horrible.
Endless spa appointments, private piano performances for Papa’s colleagues, eventually a nightmare of a wedding to some pig of a man.
I’ll be a living, breathing doll with no voice and no freedom. Forever trapped in my colorless world, counting regrets like other people count money.
I sit up suddenly, get off the table, and reach for my clothes.
Tamara looks at me in alarm. “Chica, what’s going on?”
“New plan. Let’s get out of here right this second,” I say, before I can change my mind.
“What?”
“Let’s go,” I say.
A dazzling smile lights up Tamara’s face. “Now we’re fucking talking. Follow my lead.”
5
Esme
I follow Tamara back through the spa, towards the entrance. The doors are closed, but I know my guards will still be at their posts just outside.
“How do you plan on doing this without being seen?” I ask.
Tamara throws me a pitying look. “Oh, sweet, innocent Esme,” she murmurs. “Do you really think there’s only one way in and out of here?”
“You’re heading for the entrance,” I point out.
“You really don’t pay attention, do you?” Tamara asks. “There was a door to the left as we walked in. Staff quarters. There’ll be an exit through there.”
Tam is a psycho, but she’s a fun psycho. Life always works out for people like her.
And, true to form, it works perfectly and smoothly. The staff quarters are empty, with an exit door at the far side of the room like the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.
We’re about three steps away from freedom—when the door opens and one of the spa therapists comes in.
She too is decked out in an all-beige ensemble, but she’s not the woman who greeted us when we entered. At least, I don’t think she is. Everyone who works here looks the same, though, so I can’t say for sure.
“May I help you?” she asks politely.
“Sorry, we got a little turned around,” Tamara says, flashing a smile. “We’ll head back into the spa now.”
Tamara grabs my hand and pulls me towards another door off to the side.
“Um, ma’am, that door will take you back into the hotel,” the therapist says in confusion.
“Same difference!” Tamara chirps. She pulls me through the door before the woman can say anything.
The moment we step out of the blinding whiteness of the spa and into the color of the hotel, we both start running. We probably don’t even need to, but it feels good.
We rush through the massive lobby to the grand golden doors of the hotel. Then we burst outside into the perfect L.A. sunshine.
As Tamara hails a cab, a laugh bursts from my lips. She looks at me for a moment, a smile settling over her face, but she doesn’t say anything.
The cab drops
