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Lilly unfurled the silk jewelry roll she carried when she traveled, a birthday gift from Jack while he was still in the Navy. These were her favorite pieces and ones she’d selected to wear with the clothes she’d brought.
The silver cross with a blood red ruby in the middle went with the simple silver dress and its detailed red bolero jacket. She loved the intricate silver edging that combined Mayan glyphs with straight stitches that created starbursts in a very modern Mexican design. He-who-hated-everything-Mayan had bitched when she wore anything representative of her heritage. She planned to wear the ensemble to the rehearsal and supper following it. Slowly, she was embracing the complex woman within her.
In the middle of the jewelry roll was a tube of the same silk adorned with a few rings. The ruby surrounded by diamonds would complete the rehearsal ensemble, a birthstone gift from her father on her sixteenth birthday.
Next was a solid silver, diamond-shaped ring engraved with swirls she often wore on her middle finger, an antique given to the first daughter of the first daughter for generations. She’d most likely have to give that one to Addison, since it was extremely doubtful she would ever have another baby, say nothing of a girl.
The last ring was Lilly’s favorite. She slid the red-orange fire opal from the soft cylinder and examined it up close. Pride flowed through her body. She was half Mayan. A Chel. Great-great-granddaughter of a priestess who had guarded the secret of the golden goddesses. Her brother, Jimmy, had been murdered for those damned statues. Her brother, Jack, had nearly lost his life fighting for them. Now the foot-tall sculptures stood in the Mayan museum in Cancun, never to be stolen by the Conquistadores, but shared with the world under the care of her sister-in-law, Jillian.
Lilly was proud of her heritage. For years, he-who-no-longer-had-a-say-in-her-wardrobe had berated her whenever she appeared more Mexican than white-bred American. He’d sneered at her clothes with a Central American flair that had drawn her attention since childhood.
He’d gone so far as to suggest she cut her long, perfectly straight black hair into a short, albeit classic, bob.
And she’d complied.
That would never happen again!
Lilly slid the fire opal onto her left hand ring finger and smiled down at it. She had replaced his wedding ring, an overstated diamond, with this proud family heirloom. Inch by inch she promised herself. Her inner power was reinforced by the confidence in her personal decisions. Yes. She was becoming her own woman...a force to be reckoned with.
Thank God she’d finally come to her senses.
“Mom, do we have to go shopping?” Greyson whined at her bedroom door pulling at the hem of his wrinkled t-shirt over faded board shorts. She had brought better clothing for her youngest child, but he’d selected the outfit and dressed himself. She would support his decision in a pick-your-battles resolution.
“Sorry.” She tried to smooth out the child’s unruly hair. “We have to buy you a pink dress shirt and pick up some brown shoes.”
Preston, perfectly turned out, his polo shirt tucked smartly into pleated khaki shorts, approached and stood by his brother. “We have to match for the wedding pictures,” he explained to his younger brother. “It’s important to Dad. He wants us to be there with him.”
A pang of sadness shot through Lilly as she wondered if her ex hadn’t set up their oldest son for disappointment. “Let’s go, boys, and get this done.” She interjected some excitement into her voice as she said, “When we get back, we’ll take the speed boat out for a ride.”
“Awesome.” Greyson punched his fist into the air and did a crazy four-year-old dance.
“That will be fun.” Preston’s broad smile was the only outward indication he was excited about the idea. Lilly feared the boy’s reserved demeanor was more of an act to please his father than a reflection of his true personality.
As she walked into the garage, she eyed the sleek Spyder. Not appropriate for a mother to drive, but damn if she didn’t want to. Just once. Feel the wind in her hair and all that power at her fingertips. Maybe she’d ask Jack if she could take it for a spin before he sold it.
She and the boys hopped into the Mercedes sedan she usually drove while in Mexico. On the way into Cancun, she made a few business calls before her ex-mother-in-law phoned.
“Hello, Betsy,” Lilly greeted. “You’re on speaker phone and the boys are in the car with me.” She’d learned years ago to warn people when the conversation wasn’t private.
“Hello to all of you.” Cheer radiated through the connection.
“Hi, Gramma B,” the boys called from the back seat where Greyson played with a GI Joe and Preston read a book on his tablet.
“Are you boys excited about the wedding tomorrow?” their grandmother asked.
“We have to wear pink.” At the disgust in Greyson’s voice, Lilly glanced at him in her rearview mirror. She smiled as his small face pinched. She felt the same way about it.
“Yes. I know.” A hint of repugnance laced through in her mother-in-law’s voice, but Lilly said nothing as the older woman continued, “Dalton isn’t very happy about it either, and Kalista is having hissy-fits about wearing a pink dress.”
“Are they in the wedding, too?” Preston asked.
There was hesitation on the other end before she answered. “Boys, did someone tell you that you were to take part in the wedding?”
Greyson jumped in, “We’re going to be in Uncle Jack’s wedding, so of course we’re going to be in Dad’s wedding. We’re the ring bearers,” he said as though the title had become official and it was their duty for every wedding.
Lilly heard the older woman take a deep breath. “It’s a very small wedding, boys, and I don’t think your father is expecting you to actually take part in the ceremony.”
“Then we don’t have to wear the stupid pink shirts?” Preston’s excited answer shocked Lilly.
“Sorry, but Annabelle has chosen pink for her wedding. Everything is pink.” The exaggeration in Betsy’s voice told Lilly just what the older woman thought about the color selection. Lilly agreed.
“We’re flying in early tomorrow morning, and I’ll pick you boys up around nine,” Gramma B told them.
“Shall I have Mateo fix lunch for everyone?” Lilly offered.
“Thanks, but I don’t think we’ll have time. I’ll get the kids some fast food in Playa del Carmen, and they can eat it on the ferry over to Cozumel. Brighton has arranged for a car to pick us up at the walk-on ferry.”
Lilly knew her boys too well to allow them freedom with a fast food menu. Greyson would choose several fatty burgers and stuff himself with greasy fries. With her young son’s heart condition, she had carefully watched his fat intake all his life. He’d be throwing up before they got to the large island that was visible on the horizon from the Girard compound.
As though in a corporate negotiation, Lilly stated, “Since you’re so pressed for time, I’ll have Mateo pack a picnic lunch for everyone.” After a moment’s thought, she asked, “Does anyone have food allergies?”
“You don’t need to bother Mateo—”
“No bother.” Lilly’s tone quaked no argument. “I insist. Now, allergies? Or dislikes?”
After a few minutes of sandwich preferences, Lilly had a good idea of what to pack in the basket.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that settled, they ended the call.
Moments later, Lilly pulled into a parking lot about halfway down the Hotel Zone. “Let’s see what we can find here.” The upscale cluster of stores included most of her favorites, from brand name designers to Gap and Old Navy. She much preferred this touristy area. She felt safer here than at the mall located in downtown Cancun utilized by locals.
An hour later, Greyson’s tolerance for shopping had ended when he sat down on the floor under a rack of boys’ shirts in his size. “I’m too tired to move.”
“Mom,” an excited cry from Preston carried across the children’s department. “Finally.”
Lilly scurried to the rack of button-down oxford shirts and sure enough, they had pink striped ones mixed in with blue, white, yellow, and even orange. “You wear a size—”
“I know what size I wear, Mom.” Preston shuffled through the rack in his size and with a flourish, pulled one out and held it up to his small frame.
“Try it on, please. Sizes are different here, and I want to be sure it fits.” She glanced around and saw small brown sandals sticking out from under a rack. With a wink to Preston, she asked a little louder than normal, “Have you seen your brother? I wanted to take you boys out for ice cream, but we may not have time if we don’t find Greyson soon.”
Neat racks of clothes waved as her son’s slight frame bulldozed through on his way to his mother. “I’m here, Mommy.” He whipped off his well-worn t-shirt while six feet away and grabbed for the pink dress shirt. The long scar in the middle of his small chest always caught her attention. She rarely noticed it anymore, and he certainly wasn’t concerned about it or his half naked body. He slid his arms into the sleeves and pulled both halves of the shirt down to button them. Too small. Her little boy was growing so fast. She grabbed the next size larger while he stripped the first one off. Perfect. And so was Preston’s.
“I don’t know about you two, but I need ice cream before we try to find brown shoes.” Lilly didn’t bother with the hangers, just folded the shirts over her arm and headed to the checkout.
As she and the children exited the store, she noticed a group of local boys emerge from the alley behind them. She took Greyson’s hand and quickened her pace toward the ice cream parlor two blocks down. As a teenager, she’d been allowed more freedom than most American children in Mexico because she was usually with several of her Chel cousins, but even they had been leery of the many youth gangs that roved the streets, picking the pockets of unknowing tourists, and shaking down children for whatever treasure they might have.
They slipped into the small store where soft yogurt and ice cream machines lined two walls. Covertly, Lilly watched the tough pre-teens saunter past the big windows. She exhaled a breath and the tension left her shoulders. She helped Greyson fill a cup with three flavors of soft serve and two candy toppings plus fruit. Thankfully Preston had gotten his and waited next to the cash register while she filled the bottom of a cup with sherbet.
“Mine’s already been weighed,” he announced and dug into the filled cup.
Lilly paid for the afternoon treats. Greyson stood at her side slurping peanut butter, chocolate, and birthday cake ice cream.
****
Preston wandered outside as he neatly spooned the icy delight into his mouth. With a glance back into the store, he watched his mother pay with a two hundred pesos bill. He had two of those in his wallet and some change in his front pocket. He wanted to buy a wedding gift for Uncle Jack and Aunt Jillian while they were in Cancun. He hoped the money he had would be enough, but knew it was less than twenty-five dollars back home in Chicago.
Someone bumped Preston and spun him around into another person, nearly spilling his ice cream. “Sorry,” he muttered and tried to move closer to the shop windows.
The body of a big teenage boy filled the space in front of him. “I want some ice cream, kid.” He was hard to understand even though he spoke English.
Preston looked at what was left in his cup then up, and up, and up until he saw the mean eyes of the older boy.
“Don’t want your fuckin’ ice cream, pretty boy.” He swatted the cup from Preston’s hand. “Give me some money so I can buy my own.”
Preston frantically glanced around for an adult but none were paying attention to what was happening to him. He dared a glimpse into the shop where his mother and brother stood waiting for change.
Two more boys, not as big as the first, boxed him in. “I saw a wallet in his back pocket,” the one with a black eye declared. He reached behind Preston and rubbed his butt.
Preston was too stunned to even move.
“Like that, pretty boy?” the first chided. “I’ll bet you like it when someone plays with your butt cheeks. I got a big dick, and I know you’d like it if I fucked that sweet little ass of yours.” The teenage boy grabbed his crotch and rocked his hips forward and back, making the others laugh.
Preston couldn’t breathe. He thought he was going to pass out. He’d heard some of those words before when Uncle Jack and his friends were joking around but they’d never said things like that. The thought of anything but poop in his butt made his belly do flip flops.
Black Eye had his wallet and was pulling out all his money.
“No,” Preston yelled and grabbed for it. One of the other boys latched onto his arms and pulled them behind his back. He ignored the pain in his shoulders as he strained to free himself. “That’s my money. I’m going to buy a wedding present.”
“I heard change,” the first said.
“Give me back my wallet,” Preston screamed just before a hand slapped over his mouth.
“Shut up, kid,” the biggest boy said, “before I have to hurt you.”
With an evil smile, the boy on his right said, “Allow me to get the change.” He shoved his hand into Preston’s front pocket and grabbed his penis and gave it a little squeeze. “This has promise...when he grows up.” Laughter bounced off the blocks of the building. Somehow the entire mob had moved away from the large windows of the ice cream shop toward the dark, stinky alley.
Preston knew he was in trouble. If they got him any further from his mom, they could beat him up...or worse. His insides quivered. He twisted, trying to free his body, but his captors were so much stronger and bigger. A whole new level of fear shot through him. He wanted to cry but fought the tears that welled up in his eyes and blurred his vision.
Again, he tried to wiggle free of the hands that bound him at the elbows.
The first one gently ran his large hand over Preston’s hair. “He’s a real blond, not bleached from the sun.”
Preston really didn’t like the way this kid looked at him. He remembered what the boy had said about his big penis and screamed against the hand held tightly over his mouth.
“You ever sucked a dick before?” The leader stared at him, the grin growing wider.
Did boys actually do stuff like that? Why would anyone want to do that? Panic took hold and Preston feared he’d pee his pants. Bile swelled up from his stomach. He gulped it down so loud they all heard.
Laughter surrounded him and echoed down the alley.
One of the boys in the back called out, “And that’s the way you’re gonna swallow when I shoot my wad into your mouth.”
“What did you find for me, boys?” A man’s deep voice from down the alley stilled all the teens surrounding Preston. He used the interruption to twist free. As he tried to run, a huge hand grabbed the back of his collar and lifted him off the ground. “Well, well. What do we have here?”
Preston grabbed at his buttoned up collar that threatened to cut off all air. He strained his neck and tried to drag in a breath but small sips were all he managed. A foot off the ground, he couldn’t get purchase to kick at the big man that held him at arm’s length.
“We want fifty...no...a hundred...U.S. dollars.” The first boy opened the negotiation. “We found him, and we get the fee. He’s...he’s a real blond. That should be worth more.”
The group had moved further down the alley, deeper into the shadows. “A wimpy little thing, isn’t he,” the man observed as he examined Preston. “How old are you, kid?”
Suddenly realizing his mouth was uncovered, Preston tried to scream. The squeals that came out sounded nothing like the shouts his brain ordered him to make.
Preston heard the fear in his mother’s voice as she called his name.
“Hel—” was all Preston got out before his back was pressed against a rock hard chest, a huge meaty hand was clamped over his mouth, and his nose was pinched closed. He couldn’t breathe. He shook his head back and forth to no avail. He couldn’t even open his mouth to bite because the man had locked his little finger under his chin. Terror took over and he kicked even harder.
“Cut that out if you want to live,” the man whispered close to his ear.
Preston could feel the danger in the strong arms that held him tight. This man could easily crush him.
A calm voice from behind the man said, “Let the kid go.”
Preston thought he recognized that voice. It wasn’t his Uncle Jack or Dr. Kukulcan. Maybe it was one of Uncle Jack’s captains. He didn’t really care, as long as the man had come to free him.
Preston’s mind wasn’t working right. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as though clicking frame by frame through a movie on DVD. Hollow sounds bounced off the dark block walls that seemed to surround him. He could only see the teenage boys in front of him...and a taller black image at the far end of the alley. No cape. It wasn’t Batman. Maybe it was the Shadow.
The world started to fade away when Preston was abruptly dropped to the concrete. He had just enough sense left to put out his hands to break the fall but his knees slammed into the hard surface.
On all fours, his head a mere foot from the smell of sour-milk and pee emanating from the stones of the alley, Preston threw up.
He sucked in a gasp of air. His mind kicked in with a rush of blood he could hear in his ears. Preston glanced around for a way to escape. At the end of the alley nearest the ice cream store, the Shadow had the gang of boys leaning against the wall, arms and feet spread like cops did in TV shows.
At the other end, Bruce Wayne in his suit and tie, taunted the man who had tried to suffocate him. A glint of light reflected off a really big knife in the bad man’s hand.
Oh, no. If the bad guy killed Bruce Wayne, he’d take that knife to me for sure.
Preston mastered his fear and shoved it aside as he got to his feet. He had to help Bruce Wayne. He tried to take a step but his brain wasn’t working right, and he was back on his hands and knees. He was going to be sick again.
He lifted his head as the bad guy charged at Bruce like a bull in the arena. But Bruce twisted so fast Preston wasn’t exactly sure what he’d seen. Then Batman stepped in and caught the arm with the knife and shoved it up in the air. When he brought it back down, the alley echoed with the crack of bone and a scream of pain. The knife rattled to the concrete and Bruce kicked it away.
Black forms solidified behind Bruce yelling “Policia. Halt.”
Bruce punched the man in the face. “Fucking pervert.”
The bad man might be dead. Preston wanted to jump for joy but he wanted to throw up more so he stayed on his hands and knees, eyes closed, hoping his brain would quit doing summersaults. Maybe his stomach would stop then too.
“Preston?” Bruce Wayne came closer. “Son.”
Dad. My dad came to save me. My dad is Bruce Wayne?
“Where are you hurt?” The voice was familiar, but not quite right. It didn’t sound like his dad, but maybe his hearing wasn’t back to normal yet. His head certainly wasn’t.
“Preston.” Insistence pushed through the man’s voice. “Are you hurt, son?” No. Not his dad.
Preston opened his eyes and focused on Josh Madden. “You’re really Batman?”
The situation was more than his mind could handle. Bright flashes of light filled Preston’s eyes before they rolled up toward the strip of blue sky above the alley as he watched the world fade to night.