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LATANA OJO LIED BETTER than anyone she knew.
She’d never outgrown the make-believe games that filled her days with technicolor drama, a stark contrast to the black-and-white drudgery of the Ojo’s hardworking New York lifestyle. Her older sister’s recent marriage to a wealthy landowner many states away left Tana on the hook for helping in the family business every day after school. Their restaurant catered to high-class clientele with five-star cuisine, but Tana wanted more than a future of dowdy hairnets, clunky shoes, and shapeless aprons that Momma wore working her magic in the kitchen.
She yearned for glitz and romance. Her upcoming birthday would be the first chance to spread her wings, wear makeup and high heels, and even a sparkling tiara. Her girlfriends didn’t understand and thought Tana should be satisfied with the fantastic party her parents were planning. And the fifteen skinny pimply neighborhood boys chosen for her quinceanera court, one representing each year of her life, bored her to tears.
Then she met the elderly but oh-so-stylish Anita Page when the actress returned to New York for some family business. Papa got Ms. Page to sign a picture for the restaurant, which he framed and hung on the wall by the cash register.
Tana burned with inspiration. She’d be an actress! Not a film star, like Ms. Page, but a theatrical performer, singing and dancing for adoring audiences. She’d escape her parents’ insular life here in Little Spain, wear glamorous costumes, elegant hairstyles, and fancy jewels, and make a name for herself on Broadway. Of course, she’d be choosy when handsome, dashing actors romanced her. Ms. Page attained fame as one of only a handful of Latinas performers, and Tana would too.
Actors lied and got paid to do it. They recreated themselves into whatever they wished. After all, Ms. Page had been born Anita Evelyn Pomares, with grandparents from Spain, just like Tana. So she’d change her name, and transform her dream into reality.
Tana’s own striking blue eyes, honeyed hair, ageless grace, and husky voice rivaled the film star in her prime. Ms. Page noticed it, she said so herself. When Tana confided her dream, Ms. Page smiled with encouragement, but said she’d need an agent to protect her from vultures, whatever that meant. And she autographed a fine lace handkerchief.
She knew her parents wouldn’t agree, so Tana never mentioned her dream. She found an agent, but he only considered girls eighteen and older. One little lie would smooth the way.
Tana practiced for a week what to say and how to act. She knew what to wear. Her quinceanera dress made her look and feel sophisticated and stylish, but she couldn’t wait until October’s gala party. Two months was a lifetime away. Momma and Papa didn’t need to know she borrowed the dress for this most important interview. They’d understand, once she got famous. Success had no need of forgiveness.
She faked a sick stomach to stay home from school and get the night off from work. She’d interview with the agent and be home before her parents knew any better. Tana wore a touch of makeup she’d stolen from her sister while helping her pack for her honeymoon, and the new white satin pumps chosen to go with her dress. The beautiful long white lace swished around her ankles, and the blue sash matched her eyes. She considered but left behind the tiara, fearing that might be too much.
The agent beamed. He told her she looked like a princess. She blushed, and at his prompting she sang part of a song and danced a bit. But he interrupted before she finished her prepared monologue. He praised her audition, but said he wanted more. Something special to prove she was serious. And he showed her what he meant. Right there. On top of the desk.
He ruined her dress. Ruined her dream. Ruined her.
So Tana killed him.
She’d lied to everyone about everything ever since.
