Dori Orihuela thought once again that she never should’ve left Denver when she turned onto the dirt driveway leading to Grammy Cena’s house.
Bordered on both sides by solid walls of nopal cactus, Dori thought once again that her sister, Sela, should’ve been put in charge of Grammy Cena. Sela had always been her favorite. But no one could count on them showing up at the wedding sober, much less showing up at all, and so the duty fell on her.
Grammy Cena’s dogs, Pepe and Churro, charged and snarled at Dori’s RAV4. She stopped a few feet from the porch, cut the engine and rolled down her passenger window.
“Grammy, it’s me! Don’t shoot!”
At the sound of her voice, the dogs’ snarls turned to joyous cries for attention.
Grammy opened the door and came out onto the porch. “Something bad is going to happen at this wedding,” Grammy’s witchy voice declared from the sagging little house with the giant pepper tree in the back. Dori bet the tree still had the rope swing that her brother and sister would argue over. As the oldest, she had been the one who refereed their turns.
Grammy locked the door and then shaded her eyes with a bony hand. “Your Tío Fermin has been visiting again.”
Tío Fermin had been dead since 1986, but he “visited” Grammy in the form of a skunk when he had messages from the other side. Grammy’s house backed onto a small canyon below La Vista Memorial Park, but Dori had long since given up her argument that the canyon teemed with skunks.
With a sigh, Dori yanked her keys out of the ignition and realized nothing had changed in the five years she’d been gone. Pepe or Churro yelped when she opened the car door and it clonked one of them in the head.
“Hey, Grammy,” she said, struggling past the two dogs who now circled around her legs. “You ready to go? We’re going to be late to the church.”
Grammy yelled sharply at the dogs, whose tails dropped between their legs, their ears pressed pathetically against their heads.
“Psh. I ain’t in no hurry to go to that wedding,” Grammy spat, scowling as Dori hurried to the porch to help her down. She twisted her arm out of Dori’s grip, determined to make her way down the stairs by herself. They seemed a lot more wobbly to Dori than the last time she’d been there.
“How do I look?” Grammy asked, patting her hair.
When they thought they were giving Grammy their final good-byes last year, she had asked Dori if her mascara was smeared. To see her now, Dori thought, you’d never think she’d been at Death’s door.
Grammy’s wrinkled lips wore Max Factor red lipstick, just as they had since the 1950s, and her hair, which was dyed jet-black once a month, had been piled into her signature bouffant. When the sun touched her gold lamé pantsuit, Elvis probably looked down from heaven and shook his head at such bad taste.
“Very, uh, shiny,” Dori replied, squinting her eyes. She could only imagine what dress her sister would show up in. “Now, you’re not carrying anything, are you?”
Grammy remained suspiciously quiet.
“Are you?” Dori insisted in the voice she used to question suspects. “Whatever you have, you need to leave in the house.”
“I’m an old lady. What if someone tries to attack me in the parking lot? Or that hussy your brother’s marrying talks smart with me? What kind of world is this when an old woman can’t protect herself—”
“I didn’t make the law, and we’re not going anywhere until you unpack.”
Grammy stopped so suddenly that Dori’s heart lurched because she thought she’d tripped and was about to fall. “I’ll wait here all day if I have to,” Grammy pouted.
“Then you’ll miss the open bar.”
Grammy ran her tongue over the gap where her two front teeth had been, while her eyes bored into Dori’s to see if she’d back down. Dori put all her willpower into her cop face.
“No good cotton-pickin’ nosy kids,” Grammy finally muttered, thrusting her small suitcase of a purse at Dori. “Go ahead and take it. But your Tío Fermin was around this morning, and I have a feeling that I need to protect all of us.”
Dori confiscated Grampy’s old billy club, a switchblade, and a pearl-handled Saturday night special. There was so much felony time in her hands that she lost count.
“Wait here and I’ll put them away in the house.”
“But you said we’d be late!” Grammy shouted at her back. Still walking toward the house, Dori unloaded the gun before she got desperate and shot herself to get out of going to her brother’s wedding.
Deep in the Immaculata Church, Sela watched her brother Robbie receive the traditional blessing from his padrino, Tío Vincent.
“God has blessed you with a virgin bride,” Tío Vince said, his voice rough with emotion as he held a tiny box of gold coins. “These coins symbolize the family’s gratitude for her virtue.”
Grammy snorted, “Virgin, my ass. Sammy has got as much reason to wear white in a church as I do.”
“Her name is Dannie,” Sela hissed back. “And if God strikes you down for blasphemy, he’ll get me for standing next to you.”
Grammy reached into her ear and turned down her hearing aid.
Tío Vince then held out a gold braided lasso. “This lasso will also bind you and Dannie together in the eyes of God, just as it did your tía and me.”
Sela watched her parents, their chests swelled with pride at their one and only son. Not only was Robbie now Dr. Robert Orihuela of Children’s Hospital, but he was also marrying a twenty-two-year-old virgin from an old San Diego family. She couldn’t count the number of times her mother chatted excitedly about how Dannie had been educated at Our Lady of Guadalupe and had debuted to society at the La Jolla Debutante Ball. In other words, she was bred to marry well.
Mom dabbed the corner of her eyes and Dad patted Robbie’s shoulder as if he couldn’t stop himself. When Sela had walked up to her parents earlier, her flame print dress in mango and pink nearly made her mother cry tears of despair.
Sela glanced over at Dori, who stood on the other side of Grammy. In a tailored white pantsuit with just a peek of her opalescent cami, Dori appeared crisp and capable. She had that bronzed warrior beauty. With her caramel corkscrew curls and hazel eyes, Sela looked like a fairy that had fallen out of her dew-covered bed.
She wondered how she was going to tell Dori that Robbie had invited Pete, his friend and the love of Dori’s life. Maybe she could talk Grammy into doing it. They’d been playing hot potato with that bombshell for weeks.
“Did I tell you about the dream I had last night?” Grammy said, her voice booming off the cool plaster walls of the dressing room.
Sela grinned and “forgot” to remind Grammy that she had lowered the volume of her hearing aids.
Grammy cleared her throat and cupped her hand to nearly shout in Sela’s ear. “I was dreaming that I was having sex with Brad Pitt and at first I was thinking it was nice, you know, but then I realized I don’t like that girly boy—”
“Mamá!” Dad hissed, but Grammy couldn’t hear him.
“I like un tigre, a man like your grampy who can throw down and—”
“Mamá!” Dad shouted.
Grammy gave a start, her eyes wide and blinking as if she were senile. Sela repressed a grin that Grammy knew what she had been doing all along.
“Oh, did you hear that?” Grammy asked.
Sela basked in the horror on her parents’ faces. Tío Vince froze in wiping the tears off his cheeks. He was from Mom’s side of the family.
“This is the only day Brenda and I will walk one of your grandchildren down the aisle,” Dad said in the tone that sent a warning zipping up Sela’s spine. “We won’t have it ruined.”
Dori’s left eyebrow shot up, and Grammy dismissed him with a flap of her hand. Mom rushed over to make the peace.
“Girls,” she begged Sela, not looking at Dori because she was afraid of her oldest daughter. “Meet us outside the church after the ceremony…for pictures, okay?”
“Are you sure Pammy—”
“Dannie,” everyone corrected in chorus.
“Don’t interrupt me,” Grammy spat. “I thought she’d want us in the kitchen with the rest of the Mexicans.”
Dori’s hand clamped down on Grammy’s walker. “Let’s get some air, Grammy,” she ground between her teeth, with a glare at Sela to help her or be left with their parents.
“Why?” The question shot out of Sela’s mouth when they were outside, the sun sliding over her bare shoulders. “Why are we being treated like second class citizens?”
“Sela,” Dori hissed. “Not now.”
For their precious mijo, her parents refinanced their house so he could go to Stanford. But they had refused to let Sela attend the USC Thornton School of Music on a full scholarship because, according to them—or really, Dad—there was no future in music. For Robert, they refinanced their house again to impress Dannie’s family, so they could pay for half of a huge society wedding and not look like a working-class family with two daughters who were known around National City as “those wild Orihuela girls.”
“Sela! Sela, wait,” Mom called, running after them. “Honey, I need to ask you a favor.”
A fragile bridge of trust had been built between them ever since Sela learned that her mother had had an affair with Mr. Neal who used to live next door. Sela wanted more than anything for at least one of her parents to trust her, and she’d worked hard to prove it by saying nothing, not even to Dori, about her mother’s secret.
“What?” Sela asked, hoping the favor was to stand up when the priest asked if anyone was opposed to this union.
“Well…” Her mother’s eyes fell as she dug around in her oyster-colored purse. “Dannie asked if…well, she thought that since we’re in…”
Out of her purse, she pulled a pair of white gloves with tiny pearl buttons on the back.
“Dannie asked if you’d wear these,” she said, her voice quivering as she avoided looking Sela in the eye. “Just during the ceremony. To cover up your uh, your—”
Sela’s face stiffened as if she’d just been slapped by those very same gloves.
“Tattoo,” Sela finished for her mom, holding up her left ring finger, which bore the words Piss Off, to any future engagement or wedding rings.
Mom nodded, her shoulders rolling forward. “Sela, please, you know how much I hate to ask you this, but—”
In all of its horrific clarity, Sela saw life with Dannie flash before her eyes…having to sit at the kids’ table on Thanksgiving, finding out she wasn’t invited to Christmas dinner, or being told not to get too close to the baby.
She felt everything inside her go silent as a breeze sent a shiver through the papery petals of the bougainvillea.
This was the day Mom had been dreaming of for her daughters. Given their track records, she would only get this one perfect wedding from her son.
Sela decided she would do this for her mom, and only her mom.
“It’s okay,” she said, taking the gloves. “Even though they don’t go with my dress, I’ll wear them for you.”
If Sela had to hear one more reference to Dannie’s virginity or hymen, or look at one more gold-framed portrait of her sister-in-law, she was going to bend over and blow the sixty-five-year-old man seated next to her.
She glanced over as he belched into his napkin. On second thought, she’d just throw herself in front of the next Rolls that went through the Hotel Del Coronado’s valet line.
Grammy stabbed her with her elbow, reminding her to look like she was praying as the priest blessed the meal.
Finally, the waiters swarmed the legendary Crown Ballroom while the quartet swept into a flaccid rendition of Vivaldi’s Spring from the Four Seasons. The crown-shaped chandeliers twinkled against the vaulted paneled ceiling as crystal glasses clinked and conversations rose up from the lengthy silence.
She had to get through the dinner, the best man’s toast, the first dance, the cake, all of which would be recorded and then replayed via live feedback on the giant screen above the DJ.
Sela turned to Grammy, seated between her and Dori. “You got anything strong in that purse?”
Grammy winked and pulled her purse open. Inside was a bottle of Herradura Anejo.
“Where did you get that?” Sela asked, marveling at Grammy’s resourcefulness.
“The bar.”
“The bartender gave you a sixty-dollar bottle of tequila?” Dori asked.
“You make it sound like I stole it. Your father’s paying the bill.”
“Good, then let’s drink the whole thing,” Sela said, mischief bursting in her stomach like sparklers.
“You’re not supposed to drink,” Dori reminded Grammy.
Sela’s face fell. She’d forgotten about Grammy’s cocktail of medicines. “Oh yeah, you shouldn’t.”
“Your grampy would die a new death if he saw us leave a perfectly good bottle of tequila untouched,” Grammy said to her, then turned to Dori. “As for you, Tío Fermin is not happy about you becoming a cop.”
“Tío Fermin was a snitch for the cops,” Dori replied crisply.
“He did it for the money, to feed his family.”
“While smuggling illegal aliens over the border and making several hundred bucks per person.”
Sela wished she could appear completely unruffled, like Dori.
Grammy pushed her shoulders back with the dignity that would rival the Queen. “He was helping his fellow man.” She then turned to Sela. “Why don’t you go up there and play something?”
Deflating, Sela explained, “I had a song all worked out, but…well, Dannie said no. They already hired a professional.”
She saw the outrage stiffen Grammy’s and Dori’s spines.
“Would it have killed them to let her sing one song?” Dori asked Grammy.
“Then why didn’t you say something to them?” Grammy countered.
Sela and Dori spoke at the same time.
“How was I supposed to know—”
“Grammy, it’s okay—”
“You’re supposed to take care of your sister,” Grammy argued with Dori.
“You do realize she’s twenty-seven, don’t you?”
“I don’t care if she’s sixty-seven, she’ll always be your little sister. I took care of my sister, God bless her soul, before she died.”
Sela’s knee bounced anxiously as she waited for one of them to back down. Dori simply turned her attention to her as if she hadn’t clashed with Grammy.
“So did you get the gig at Croce’s?” she asked coolly.
“I don’t know yet,” Sela answered.
“When are you going to find out?”
“Any day, I guess.”
“They’re going to pay you, right?”
Sela tightened up. Did her sister think she was that helpless? “No, I’m doing it for free,” she said sarcastically.
Dori sighed, tossing her napkin on the table. “I’ll be back.”
Sela happened to glance over her shoulder, and did a double take when she saw who sat at the bar.
“Oh wait!” she said, flapping her napkin at Dori. “Look at the goodies at the bar.”
Well, what do we have here? Dori wondered as she grabbed onto the chair for support.
“What do you think?” Sela asked, dabbing her lower lip with gloss.
Grammy planted both hands on the table and twisted around. “Ohh,” she cooed appraisingly. “Now that’s what I’m saying when I mean un tigre.” She shoved the bottle aside and fished out her gold tube of Max Factor red.
“He’s mine,” Sela pouted. “I saw him first.”
“What? I’m just touching up my lipstick!”
Why did I come back home? Dori asked herself, snatching her purse with the trusty minideodorant she’d packed. Right now she felt like a prisoner who’d had a few years free, only to be thrown behind bars without doing anything wrong.
With Grammy and Sela salivating over some guy, she was guaranteed a night of keeping them out of trouble. Still sore from being yelled at by Grammy and then snapped at by Sela, she pushed her chair under the table. Let them get each other out of trouble.
“Have fun with him, okay?” Dori said.
“Don’t you remember that game we used to play?” Sela asked.
Unfortunately, yes, she did. Before she had been recruited into the Explorer program at National City PD, she and Sela had earned their reputation as “those Wild Orihuela Girls” by picking the cutest boy at a party and then competing to see who could get him out of his pants.
Dori regretted not setting a better example to her little sister, and yet, Sela was her parents’ child, not hers.
“I’m not going to be the wedding hoochie.”
“Hoochie?” Sela asked. “If I was the wedding hoochie, I’d be out there dry humping every guy on the dance floor!”
“Like that,” Grammy said, pointing to their cousin Lupe, who shouldn’t have worn that red knit dress without panties. “She should’ve had one of them Peruvian wax jobs or whatever they’re called.”
Shaking her head, Dori asked Sela, “Don’t you think we’re a little too old for those games?”
Sela pressed her chin into her shoulder. “Since you’re the oldest—”
“You’re going to compete for El Tigre?” Grammy asked, her head whipping from side to side.
A witchy smile curved on Sela’s face, her eyes sparkling with the dare. “How else do you want to pass the time?”
Dori ran her tongue over the top of her teeth, her heart kicking up at the challenge. But then she reminded herself that she was a respected officer, not a seventeen-year-old chafing under the responsibilities her family had placed on her.
Still, she took another look and her body temperature spiked. He stood with one elbow propped on the bar, dressed in a black suit that was cut perfectly to fit broad shoulders and long legs. Black hair fell in loose waves to curl at his shoulders. She could almost feel that hair fisted in her hands.
“I don’t think so,” she said, hurrying away from the table, not really sure where she had planned to go.
She hadn’t meant to look, but her eyes ate up the man with intense eyes the color of espresso. His straight nose ended in a sharp point, and those lips had just the right amount of plumpness to make a woman shiver when he kissed her. Grammy was right. He was un tigre, with the way he seemed to stand in wait, ready to pounce with all of his might, or slither under the cover of the crowd until his hot breath touched the delicate skin behind a woman’s ear.
“Dori?”
She thought she’d imagined that voice saying her name. But when she saw Pete, the shock made her skin flash red hot. A high-pitched squeal whined in her ears.
He smiled easily, revealing tiny lines that hadn’t been in the corners of his eyes when she’d left for Denver. His black hair spiked off the top of his head, and the gray suit accentuated his sleek, swimmer’s body.
“Okay there, we got it over with,” he said suddenly, and then turned around to walk away.
Then he pivoted back with an almost desperate laughter in his eyes. He’d always made her laugh, but not now.
“Hey,” he said uncertainly. “I didn’t mean to surprise you like that, I—”
He reached for her, and she knew if she’d been in complete command of herself, she would never have flinched away.
“Dori…” He said her name like it was an apology.
“I’m sorry, I—” She would kill Sela for not telling her. She sucked in her breath and bore down on her fluttering nerves. “Hi, Pete.”
His smile wobbled precariously. “Hey there, Pi—” He caught himself before calling her Piglet, the nickname he had given her when they were dating. “I have no idea what to say next.”
“I think it’s, ‘How are you?’” she suggested.
“Right, so then, how the hell are you?”
“I’m great.”
“Heard you’re now with San Diego PD.”
“I am. How’s the leg?”
“I got your card.”
She had debated about sending it when she heard that he’d been knifed, trying to break up a jail fight. She had, but only signed her name.
“Since when did you start drinking piña coladas?” she asked, noticing the gaudy cocktail in his hand.
“I’m here with my, uh, fiancée.” He held up the glass. “This is hers.”
It looked like the kind of drink a college coed who just got her fake ID would order. But to order a piña colada in the Crown Room at the Hotel Del…could there be anything tackier than that? Yeah, Dori imagined, probably her dress.
Truth was, if she had known Pete would be here with a date—no, even worse, a fiancée—she would’ve shot herself with Grammy’s pistol when she’d had the chance.
“See you around,” she said, pivoting back toward her table.
Grammy’s and Sela’s eyes swung around guiltily when they saw her coming.
“You bitches,” she hissed at them. The heads of their table guests swiveled up in shock.
“Mind your own business,” Grammy told them, and then jerked her thumb at Sela. “She was supposed to tell you.”
Sela reeled back. “No I wasn’t! You said you would tell her when she picked you up.”
“I forgot! You should’ve reminded me.”
Dori’s hand trembled when she reached for her water glass. “You both suck.”
“I will not be spoken to like that from the likes of you,” Grammy said.
“Dori, I’m sorry,” Sela said. “We wanted to tell you but we didn’t know how or when.”
Dori sighed. She was at her brother’s wedding alone, with no hot date, much less a fiancé. Meanwhile, Pete, who had left her in a fit of jealousy, sat a few tables away with some bimbo who drank piña fucking coladas, and no one in her family had warned her.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw El Tigre turn his back to the room, his movements sleek and fluid. She wondered if he’d catch her looking in the reflection of the mirror behind the bar.
Dori continued her survey of the ballroom and saw Pete, his back turned to her and blocking the view of piña colada chick. Her whole body broke out in sweat. There were five hundred guests; it would be easy never to come face-to-face with Pete again.
And yet she craved another encounter. But this time to show him up; to make him see what he’d lost. It was immature and pathetic, but it was the truth.
Her old recklessness broke loose from its tightly cinched leash. Her heart pounded with fury, lust, and old aches that she’d fought so hard to hide from.
Wicked laughter came from Grammy Cena.
“She’s gonna take you on, girl,” Grammy crowed to Sela with approval. “She’s not an Orihuela for nothin’.”
Sela stiffened in her seat. She’d been wrong to piss her sister off. Dori was a dangerous, bloodthirsty competitor when angry.
“Wait,” she called as Dori prepared to launch her attack on El Tigre at the bar.
“Oh, now you’re scared, aren’t you?” Grammy laughed, not helping her at all.
“Ten minutes each,” Dori said, calling the terms. “Two turns.”
Grammy slammed her hand on the table. “I decide who gets El Tigre.”
“How?” Sela and Dori both asked.
“I’ll judge based on the first kiss after the dancing begins. So make it good.”
“Only the winner leaves the ballroom,” Dori decided.
“Then I go first,” Sela said. She stood up, running both hands down the sides of her dress as Dori narrowed her eyes. Sela knew it was mean, but in this game she had to psyche out her opponent. “If I were you, I’d start looking for a backup plan before Pete hits the dance floor.”
She had once read that Marilyn Monroe could walk down the street unnoticed. But at the snap of a finger she could emanate this glow that called every man to her. Summoning Marilyn’s spirit now, she worked that floor like it was the cat-walk.
She hadn’t had this much fun in months. Music had taken up all of her free time, save for a few casual afternoons with her last ex. She really shouldn’t have wasted her time, and just used a vibrator instead.
Power surged through her veins and her heart pumped up until she imagined waves of heat coming off her skin. She met the appreciative smile of a man whose wife was chatting with her neighbor. But Sela’s smile hardened when she caught the glare from a friend of her mother’s.
Her therapist had warned her about her need for attention; how it clouded her judgment and stole her power away. But Sela knew that if her parents and Robbie had included her in the wedding, if they’d put her on the inside track instead of firmly keeping her on the outs, she would’ve gone for El Tigre anyway.
She arrived at the bar with two people between them. The bartender asked what she wanted, and she asked for a Diet Coke, letting her eyes briefly meet El Tigre’s in the mirror and then quickly glancing away as if it had been an accident. But the slight thrust of her chest, the ever-so-slight lean in his direction, beckoned him to approach.
She hadn’t even counted to five when he asked, “May I pay for your drink?”
She turned and lifted her foot to the brass rail. With a practiced nudge, the skirt of her dress “accidentally” inched up to reveal a firm, pale thigh.
“I think this is an open bar, but thank you.” Testing him, she aimed her green eyes right into his dark, almost black ones.
A lesser man would’ve stammered and not known what to say. But El Tigre relaxed his elbow on the bar.
“May I have a drink with you?” he asked.
“I’m taking it outside. It’s kind of hot in here.”
“They’re serving dinner.”
“I’m not really hungry,” she said, dropping her gaze down to the bar. “For dinner.”
She could tell he was wondering if he should go with her. She bit her lip, holding her breath.
He cleared his throat. “Eric.” He offered her his hand.
She took it and had a mini-orgasm right then and there. “Sela.” She then added, “The sun should be setting soon.”
“I’ve heard it’s beautiful out there,” he murmured, his eyes taking the time to drift down to the hand she’d placed on the bar, and then back up at her. “We should go while we have the chance.”
Dori watched Sela slink out with El Tigre’s hand riding her lower back. That little bi—
“Okay, the time is set….” Grammy held her bifocals to her eyes and stared at her watch. “Now.”
“She just cheated!”
“What did you expect? She’s an Orihuela. And we don’t cheat. We—”
“Cheat,” Dori insisted.
“Make our own opportunities.” Grammy shook her head. “You know, you’re gonna get old before your time unless you loosen up. Mí mamá, God rest her soul, looked twenty-five when she was fifty years old.”
Dori had never met Great Grandma Lourdes, whose black and white flapper portrait hung prominently in Grammy’s living room. But she’d heard the stories. On the Tijuana side of the border, Great Grandma Lourdes was a madam, and on the San Diego side ran a bridal shop that covered her and her husband’s bootlegging.
Grammy dumped her water into the arrangement of delicate pink roses and then poured herself two fingers of the Herradura Anejo.
“To my granddaughters,” she toasted, and then sipped. After a satisfied ahhh, she declared, “Now if this kills me, I’ll die a happy lady.”
Dori pursed her lips as she flung her water into the flowers and poured herself a finger. Herradura Anejo wasn’t a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of tequila. It was an expensive, exclusive mistress that had to be admired and savored.
The tequila washed over her tongue like liquid silk, leaving diamonds in its wake. She knew she would need another finger to fortify her determination not to turn around and see what Pete was doing. She tried looking into the polished silver flower urn, but it gave her an upside-down view of the room.
“What did he say when you saw him?” Grammy suddenly asked.
“Who?”
“Don’t play stupid with me.”
“He’s engaged.” She meant to keep it short but found herself adding, “To someone who drinks piña coladas at the Hotel Del before a five-course meal.”
Grammy’s responding hmm was loaded with meaning.
“I don’t love him anymore,” Dori thought to tell her just in case.
“Umm-hmm.”
“He couldn’t take it that I was first in the academy and he barely made it.”
“Are you sure you couldn’t take him being less than you?”
Grammy was partly right; but only a tiny part. Still, she shouldn’t have had to hold back to cushion his ego. Pete didn’t have a father who told him he had no right to be a cop because he wouldn’t be able to do the job when he got his period every month. But she did, and she had to work ten times as hard to prove to her da—no, to herself—that she couldn’t just do the job, she could be the best, with or without Midol.
“Well,” Grammy said. “You could go over and get busy with Pete. That girl don’t stand no chance against one of mis nietas.”
“Let her have him,” she said dismissively. “She’s probably not threatening to him.”
“Use El Tigre to show what he’s missing,” Grammy said slyly. Dori could see how no man stood a chance when Grammy had been young. “And let yourself have some fun.”
How come her grandmother could read through her so easily? Is that what happened when you were as old as she was? When would wisdom ever show up on her doorstep?
“Where’s your sister?” Mom asked, appearing out of nowhere.
Grammy pretended she was too deaf to have heard and looked up at the chandeliers.
Dori kept her gaze steady. “She went to the ladies’ room.”
Their mom might have been a marshmallow, but she knew her daughters well. “With who?”
“No one.”
Mom started to back down. “Well, someone told me that she was talking to some man and—”
“Leave these girls alone, Brenda,” Grammy jumped in. “And you tell that no good son of mine to be a real man and stop sending you to do his dirty work.”
Grammy thrust her chin in the air, effectively dismissing Mom from her presence. Mom stood there, her mouth agape and eyes fluttering from the lashing she’d just received. The mere idea of standing up to Dad, as Grammy had suggested, probably made her faint.
Dori’s armpits were raining sweat, sitting there between her mom and Grammy. She didn’t know which one to be loyal to; her mom, who had been systemically broken down by Dad and Grammy; or Grammy, who made it perfectly clear that her loyalty was with her grandchildren.
“I’ll go find Sela,” Dori offered. It was as neutral as she could get. Also, it would keep Dad from hounding Mom when she went back to her place beside him.
After Mom thanked her and then made her way back to her table waaaaay on the other side of the ballroom, Grammy leaned over and said, “Go find your sister and warn her.”
The thick salty air smoothed some of Dori’s edges as she stood at the open doorway, just breathing quietly as the ocean rippled under the smoky lavender sky.
“Already doing damage control, huh?” Pete said beside her.
She stiffened as if the ground had lurched beneath her feet. She hadn’t seen him follow her out. Then again, she’d had her family on her mind.
“Excuse me?” she managed icily.
Pete just grinned, one of the few men who had never been afraid of her. “I saw her with that guy at the bar. She didn’t even make the salad course.”
It was one thing for her to criticize her sister, but she didn’t take it from anyone else; which was another reason why Pete had left.
“Neither did you,” Dori pointed out, sniffing the air between them. He’d changed colognes. Had piña colada girl made him switch from the one she used to buy for him? “What do you want, Pete?”
“To make sure you’re okay.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“We haven’t seen each other in five years.”
Actually it was four years, seven months, and two weeks…which had not been enough time to make her forget the way his kisses made her toes curl, or how he loved it when she tongued his ear, or the way he felt inside her.
“And I’m not okay,” he admitted. “It was a lot harder than I thought it would be.”
His honesty had always been her undoing.
But she was proud when she managed to tell him, “You should go back.”
Or else she’d do something she would hate herself for. She didn’t poach on another woman’s man, even if he had once been hers.
“What if I don’t want to?” He laughed dryly and shook his head. The back of his hand brushed hers, and the shock made her jaw clench. “How messed up is that? I love Suz, but I—”
“Don’t,” she shot back. “Don’t you dare.”
He was speechless, and she took the opportunity to escape before her pride, or her vulnerability, got them both in trouble. She wobbled on her heels as they slid on the textured walk-way, but she didn’t fall.
Scanning the grounds over the heads of meandering couples enjoying twilight, she found Sela with El Tigre by the Windsor Cottage. She should just leave them alone, she thought, and let Sela find whatever amusement she needed to get through the night.
And yet she wanted El Tigre, that gorgeous, dangerous creature who had a body that could make a woman forget loss and heartache. He could make a woman let go, to live for pleasure, to feel something other than anger.
El Tigre brushed a lock of Sela’s hair behind her ear, smiling hungrily at her.
Dori shivered, not from the air, but from that man’s raw sexuality. She narrowed her eyes and rolled her shoulders back.
If she and Sela were still those wild Orihuela girls, then she had thirty more seconds to prove it.
When Sela caught Dori standing there out of the corner of her eye, the smile she had for Eric collapsed.
Noticing, Eric asked, “What’s that for?”
“My sister,” she said.
“Did I get you in trouble?”
She leaned into his aura of heat. But she noticed that his nipple had beaded against his silk shirt. “Don’t I look like the kind who can make her own?”
He laughed as if he hadn’t in a long time. Sela liked the way it made her feel. Eric just might be a keeper. He’d only touched her like a gentleman; escorting her out of the ballroom by letting his hand hover over her lower back and then lightly grasping her elbow as they walked down the steps.
But heat simmered under the surface. She shivered as she imagined what it would be like when they finally lifted the lid.
“May I walk you back inside?” he asked.
“She’ll want to talk to me alone, but…” Sela glanced over at Dori, now not so sure that she wanted to play their game with Eric. He might be fun to keep around for more than one night.
“Let’s meet inside later, okay?” she suggested, offering her hand.
He sandwiched it between his own. As she stood, his eyes trailed all over her and she flashed hot with the image of those big, rough hands gliding up her hips.
Oh, there was no way she was letting Dori in on her fun.
“I get the first dance,” he said and let her go.
“You’re too late,” Sela said, joining Dori as the old-fashioned lamps lining the walk flicked to life.
“I have thirty seconds left,” Dori said flatly.
“What if I don’t want to share?”
“More like you’re afraid you’ll lose.”
Bitch. Dori tried to use that Jedi mind shit on her, but this time it wouldn’t work. “I don’t think he’s your type,” she said through a tight jaw. “Or that you’re his.”
“Mom is looking for you because Dad saw you leaving with him.”
Afraid they would be overheard, Sela grabbed her sister’s arm and yanked her back toward the hotel. “Can we talk about this somewhere else?”
Dori jerked back. “Not that way.”
Sela didn’t have to ask why. “Pete followed you? What did he say?”
Dori’s eyes shot out death rays as she jerked Sela away. They took the long way back to the lobby, through the shops and up a secret staircase that dropped them off behind the lobby bar.
Sela half wished she’d been the fly on the wall when Pete and Dori met face-to-face. She liked Pete okay, mostly because no other man had the balls to stand up to her sister. But he’d destroyed Dori when he left her.
When they swept through the door of the ladies’ room, Dori stopped so suddenly that Sela crashed into her.
“What the hell, Dori?” she blurted, then realized that Dannie was holding court in the lounge with her bridesmaids, mother, and a nun.
Dannie looked like a Ralph Lauren photo spread with her sculpted blond up-do, swanlike neck, elegant facial bones, and the graceful slope of her white shoulders.
Someone cleared their throat.
“Congratulations,” Dori said, ever the diplomat.
Dannie’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. What did we do to you? Sela would have asked if Dori hadn’t yanked her into a stall.
“Here’s the deal—” Dori started, locking the door.
“But I want to know what happened with Pete,” Sela insisted.
“Nothing.”
Sela rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to play anymore. Eric is mine.”
“You started this and now you’re going to see it out.”
“You can’t make me.” She tried to push Dori out of her way. But she didn’t work out as much as her sister.
“What are you so afraid of?” Dori asked, a laugh tickling her voice. “Losing your touch, are you?”
“Like you? I don’t think so,” Sela shot back.
“You are absolutely unbelievable,” Dori said.
Someone rapped sharply on the door.
Dori and Sela dropped their anger like a hot potato.
“Do you think it’s the nun?” Sela asked softly.
Dori shrugged and called out, “Yes?”
“It’s me. Let me in,” Grammy ordered.
Dori opened the door, and Grammy forced Sela to wedge herself between the toilet bowl and the wall to make room.
“What are you two arguing about? There’s El Tigre out there wandering around by himself, and Lupe the wedding hoochie is making eyes at him!”
“Sela is welching on the game.”
Grammy gasped with disappointment and outrage. “Mija,” she admonished. “Dori needs El Tigre to show up—” She snapped her fingers, forgetting Pete’s name.
“Pete?” Sela asked, and Dori’s eyes turned stony with frustration.
“He has a fiancée,” Grammy said.
Sela wilted with guilt. Now that changed things. She didn’t mind showing up to Robbie’s wedding without a date, but this was bad for Dori. Really bad.
Suddenly, she started thinking of all the things her big sister had done for her. How she’d never asked one embarrassing question about the gloves Mom made her wear…that Dori got angry at Robbie on her behalf because he hadn’t let her play a song for him and Dannie…that her sister had come out to warn her about Mom…
Sela frowned. She hated being the bad sister. So if Dori needed Eric to show up Pete, then she should at least give her the chance to win him, which of course Dori never would.
“Look, maybe you should—” She wavered, briefly meeting Dori’s hard gaze before her eyes fell back to the marble floor. “—talk to him. He actually has a brain to go with the body and the face.”
Time slithered on its belly as Dori stared at her, probably analyzing every word she had just said.
“Someone say something,” Grammy interjected. “I need to use the toilet.”
“I want extra time because you took him outside,” Dori said.
Sela’s confidence slipped as she took in her older sister’s tough yet elegant beauty. Eric might find her strength and intelligence more appealing. He might be one of those guys who liked women who could kick his ass.
“Five more minutes,” Grammy said to Dori. “We’ll give you a handicap since it’s been a long time for you.”
“A long time for what?”
Grammy replied, “You know.”
“I do not need a handicap.”
Grammy turned to Sela. “You think you can take her on?”
No. Well, maybe. “Equal rules,” Sela replied nobly. “That way the best girl wins.”
With a disgusted glare at Grammy, Dori took Sela’s hand. “There might not be much left when I’m done with him.”
Sela grimaced when Dori squeezed the bones of her hand. Her competitive spirit was up, and it was about to get nasty.
Grammy laughed. “This might be a real Orihuela wedding after all.”
She so did not need a handicap.
With steam seemingly trailing out from her ears, Dori shoved the ladies’ room door open, nearly hitting a sunburned tourist in the face.
She’d check this El Tigre out; see if he was all that Sela was making him out to be. More than likely he was just another loser in a long line of losers who’d dump Sela in a week or two. God knows it didn’t take much of a brain for a guy to figure out that her sister was an easy mark.
Standing in the doorway of the ballroom, Dori took in a deep breath, falling back on her training. Slow the situation down and control it; don’t let it control you.
Her gaze flowed over the faces. There he was. For the briefest second she caught a glimmer of “cop” in the way he leaned against the pillar with his arms crossed and his back to the wall. From there he could see everyone walking in and out of the room. The video crew that worked the wedding approached him but he waved them off.
Why wasn’t he at his table?
She made her way over.
“Hi,” she said when she got close. He turned those eyes on her. She should’ve double-checked her deodorant situation before leaving the bathroom.
“Hello,” he said politely, yet he was on guard. “You’re Sela’s sister, right?”
“I’m Dori,” she answered, holding out her hand. When he said his name, she looked down at the V of his shirt and had a mental image of herself licking his skin.
She cleared her throat. “Anyway, Sela had to deal with a family thing,” she said, still figuring out how to work him. “She asked me to tell you she’d be back in about twenty minutes.”
He opened his mouth to reply when something caught his attention behind her. Those warm eyes iced over, and Dori followed his gaze to the doors. Dannie walked in with her entourage. A quick glimpse at him and Dori confirmed that he was staring at the bride.
Before she could ask if he was a friend of Dannie’s family, he turned the charm back on her.
“You two don’t look anything alike,” Eric said in a voice that was like the silken brush of a Hawaiian breeze. Dori saw that the warmth didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“That’s an interesting bracelet,” she said, eyeing the brown beaded bracelet that slid out of his sleeve and over the dark skin of his wrist. “Where’d you get it?”
“I got it in Cancun last year,” he answered. “I keep meaning to take it off but I keep forgetting to.”
“Who gave it to you?” She kept her face as bland as possible, as if she were just making small talk.
“A friend.” His tone warned her that he didn’t want to discuss it.
Something wasn’t quite jibing with this guy, and she couldn’t put her finger on it.
“Can I ask you a question?” she asked, forgetting about landing him in the sack. “Are you a police officer?”
He jerked his chin back, thrown off by her question.
“My ex was an officer,” she explained, “and there’s, uh, something about you that reminds me of him.”
She bet FBI as she edged closer so a waiter could squeeze by.
“DEA,” Eric answered. “Do I have it stamped on the back of my jacket?”
She laughed, flipping through her mental files of whom she could call to verify his ass. Not answering his question, she asked instead, “So are you a friend of the groom?”
His eyes narrowed. “A friend of the bride’s family,” he said.
Just as Dori was getting warmer, she spotted Pete watching her from his table. His fiancée wasn’t there beside him.
Her thoughts screeched to a halt and then crashed into each other.
“Oh, uh…” she muttered, trying to claw her way back to clarity.
“How did you know I was a cop?” Eric asked, and she looked up at him with blinking eyes.
“Well I…” She laughed because it was the only thing she could think to do. “Sorry. I forgot what we were talking about.”
Her face flared. Damn it, she’d been doing so well. She’d been in control of the exchange and fucking Pete threw her off.
Eric turned back to her, having looked over his shoulder at Pete. “Is he the jealous type? Because he’s coming this way.”
She didn’t think twice. “Nice meeting you.”
“Wait a second. You didn’t answer my question.”
But she was already on her way out the door.
Sela frowned when she watched Dori walk away from Eric, his eyes lingering on her swaying hips.
“What is she doing?” Grammy asked. “Where is she going? Is her time up?”
Dori had been with him for less than five minutes. Sela looked for Pete and found him following Dori.
Sela opened her mouth, about to say something along the lines of “Oh crap,” when angry fingers bit into her upper arm. She nearly tripped as her dad yanked her close.
“What are you up to?” he said through clenched teeth, smelling like whiskey. “What were you doing in the ladies’ room?”
His anger hit her like a punch in the stomach, leaving her no breath to even ask how he knew they had been in the ladies’ room. Over his shoulder she saw Dannie watching from the bridal table, where she sat like a medieval queen.
“Dad,” she teased in an effort to gather the pieces of her scattered control. “I had a rip in my nylons.”
“You better. I told you and your sister once before”—he stabbed his finger at her face—“do not ruin your brother’s wedding. No men, no drugs, no alco—”
“I’d nev—”
“Do not interrupt me!” Heads turned in their direction. “I mean it. I’ve had enough of you and your little games. Let us enjoy one special day without you trying to make a spectacle of yourself.”
Just as quickly as he’d grabbed her, he turned and walked off, pulling down the lapels of his jacket.
“Mija,” Grammy said finally recovering, having been just as shocked as Sela. “Are you okay?”
Sela nodded, holding the tender spot on her arm. Her father strode across the ballroom, shaking hands and smiling like he hadn’t just yelled at her.
Tears smarted her eyes as humiliation washed through her. Far across the ballroom, her mom watched as Dannie’s mother chatted blissfully. With the twinkling candles and the eruption of English garden flowers on the white-clothed tables, Sela felt as if this were a horribly surreal dream.
She made eye contact with her mom, and then her mother went back to her conversation.
“There he goes,” Grammy said, pointing to Eric, who slipped out to the lobby.
“But it’s Dori’s time.”
“She ran off! Go get El Tigre!”
Sela caught up with him. His smile unfroze the ice particles that had formed in her stomach.
“Family drama?” he asked.
For a horrifying moment she wondered if he’d seen her with Dad.
“Something like that.”
“What happened?” He gestured at the red marks on her arm.
Relief loosened her stiff shoulders. He hadn’t seen.
“An overly affectionate uncle,” she lied, wishing she didn’t have to.
“I have an aunt like that. Creeps me out.” He held up a pack of cigarettes. “You mind?”
Night draped its shadows over the formal garden in the center of the hotel. Over the sounds of the jazz pianist playing “Tenderly,” people chatting and laughing, she made out the distant grumbling of the beach.
“I might want a taste,” she said.
He lit up and she took it from his fingers. His lips moistened the tip, and the sweet smoke tasted so good.
“Thank you.”
“I met your sister. She’s something else.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“She’s tough as hell.”
Sela couldn’t help but respond to that gravelly voice. If he had a southern accent, he’d sound just like Johnny Cash.
“So are you from the bride or groom’s side of the family?” he asked.
“The groom is my brother. The bride is the spawn of Satan.”
He laughed. “I know her brother, so…” He flicked off some ash. “Why do you call her that?”
“Let’s just say that she’s got my parents fooled into thinking she’s a virginal saint.”
“Really?”
“Sorry. If you’re a friend of her brother’s—”
“I don’t know her that well. Hey, what’s this?” He picked up her left hand and peered down at her ring finger, with its tattoo.
“I haven’t much luck in the marriage department,” she explained, not mentioning that she had three to back up that claim.
“Me neither,” he said as if letting her in on a secret. “I almost proposed last year. We were on a trip to Cancun, but I found out she was seeing another guy when she called him from our hotel room.”
“Yikes.”
Without any warning, he pressed his lips against her tattoo. Nuzzling her hand, he kept his eyes locked into hers, silently asking if this was okay. She took a step closer, his hot breath exciting her.
Closer, his eyes willed her, and closer she went, until his hand slid under her hair and his shoulder was pressed between her breasts. His fingers lightly clutched the back of her neck as she sniffed the woodsy, almost peppery tang of his cologne.
“What would you do if I kissed you?” he whispered against her temple.
She ran the tip of her tongue between her lips, dying to taste him but holding out just a bit longer to build the thrumming anticipation.
He hummed appreciatively and his fingers tightened their hold, locking her into place.
As he lowered his lips, she whispered, “We should’ve gone somewhere more private.”
When his lips met hers, she sucked in her breath as if she’d touched fire. His chin had a fine bristle that weakened her knees. Her restraint vibrated, wanting to break loose as their kiss went deeper, wetter. Her hand landed on his shoulder, when she really wanted to cup him and stroke him. His hip pressed against her stomach, and she could see with blinding clarity those hips working him in and out of her.
It would be so good, so sweet.
“We better stop,” he said, slightly out of breath. “Or I won’t be able to walk.”
“Where were you planning to walk to?” she teased.
“Somewhere more private.”
“We’re not doing this,” Dori warned Pete when he found her.
“Just let me say what I need to say,” Pete said, catching her at a dead end in one of the hallways in the old part of the hotel. “And don’t knee me in the balls while I’m doing it.”
“I should snap your neck. What the hell are you thinking, following me?”
“I’ve been wanting to see you ever since you came—”
“You’re pathetic.”
“You’re an idiot if you think flirting with Eric Cervantes will make me jealous.”
“Wha—Wait. You know him?”
“Enough to tell someone I—” He cleared his throat. “He’s a great cop but he’s not a happy guy.”
“Why?”
“For one, I don’t think his ex-girlfriend invited him to her wedding.”
“Excuse me?”
He stared at her for a long while. “Dannie. His ex-girlfriend. You didn’t know?”
Obviously. “What else do you know?”
He shrugged. “Rumor around the sewing circle is that he gave up everything for her—promotion, career, you name it. And then she left him.”
Dori steadied herself. She had to find Sela. She had to find Eric.
“Wait a second,” Pete called after her.
She threw her hand up in a gesture of dismissal.
“I need to say good-bye. Before I marry Suz.”
She froze.
“Will you let me?”
She heard the hushed tread of his shoes on the thick carpet. Then his heat settled against her back. His familiar scent wafted around, eliciting memories of her hands and her lips exploring his skin, the sounds he only made with her, the way he liked to blindfold her and position her any way he wanted.
“I sometimes think that…” He couldn’t finish. She willed herself into a statue as his hand came up and his fingers gently curved over the top of her shoulder.
“I love Suz. Don’t get me wrong. But she’s not you.”
Dori spun around and his arm came up protectively. She caught it and yanked it down, attacking his mouth with hers.
She channeled all of her anger, her lust, and her pride into that kiss. He was stunned, not touching or kissing back. When she teased the seam of his lips with her tongue, a shock jolted through him and she pulled away just as his arms came around her.
With the back of her hand, she wiped his kiss away. “You’re damn right she isn’t me.”
“What the hell is going on?” Grammy said, greeting her in the lobby. “I can’t keep track of you two running all over the damned place.”
Dori never once looked over her shoulder to see if Pete followed her from where she’d left him.
But her heart still galloped from that kiss. She had no idea where the idea to do such a thing came from. And she didn’t want to know. She needed to be in control, focused. She needed to find out what the hell her sister might be getting herself into.
“Do you know where Sela is?”
“No. They’re starting the first dance. You want to see?”
“Not—” Wait, she told herself. If Eric were still in the ballroom, maybe she could see for herself if what Pete had told her was true. “Come on.”
“Don’t you hustle me around.” Grammy yanked her arm free and dug her heels into the carpet like a horse about to balk. “Hold on. Who’ve you been making out with?”
Dori almost asked how she knew. “I’ll tell you when we go into the ballroom.”
She moved off, and Grammy hurried to keep up with her. When they made it through the doors, they were swept into a human tide pulling them toward the dance floor. Even in her heels it was impossible for Dori to spot Sela and Eric.
Frank Sinatra’s “The Way You Look Tonight” came on, and everyone cheered as the spotlight captured the newlywed couple. Dannie’s megawatt smile beamed down from the giant screen.
“Good Lord help us all,” Grammy groaned as they started their choreographed dance. Robert bit the tip of his tongue in concentration, and Dannie’s camera-ready smile never faltered.
Grammy smacked her arm. “Was it El Tigre?”
Dori shook her head.
“Pete?” Grammy yelped, and Dori smacked her back to shut her up. “What were you thinking?”
“He was trying to compare me to his, you know…”
Grammy gave her a quick nod of approval. “That’s my girl. Now your sister, she’s gotten El Tigre outside twice now. You’ve got some catching up to do.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen.” Just then she ID’d Eric at the bar. Dori swept her gaze across to the table. Sela’s wrap was still draped over her seat.
Wasting no time or explanations, Dori made a beeline for him.
Eric grinned when she approached. She ordered a Turkey and Seven on the rocks.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Just a little drama,” Dori said with just enough embarrassment to make herself less of a threat. She had always been good at faking.
He turned toward her. “So let’s pick up where we left off. How did you mark me?”
“It takes one to know one,” she replied.
His eyes followed her fingers as she reached into her jacket and pulled out her wallet with her badge. “San Diego PD,” she explained, then flipped it shut in the palm of her hand.
“I thought so,” he said with a genuine smile. He saluted her with two fingers held to his forehead. “So how long have you been on the force?”
“Three months here,” she replied, toasting him with her glass and then faking a sip. “Five years with Denver. And you?”
“I left about a year ago. My buddy and I started a private security consulting firm.”
She was getting warmer. “Do you miss it?”
He shrugged, his eyes falling downward. “The money’s better now that I’m my own boss.”
“So how do you know Dannie again?” she asked, deliberately using her sister-in-law’s name.
He tossed back the dregs of his drink. “I’m a friend of her brother.”
He slid his empty glass across the bar. His jacket fell open and she noticed something small and square shoved in the inside pocket. The bartender refilled his glass and Eric took another healthy swig. She glanced at the mirror. He stared straight at Dannie.
The muscles in his cheek ticked and his eyes seemed to sink deeper under his strong brow.
Holy crap. Pete hadn’t been lying. Then again, he never had lied to her.
The dance ended and Robert slid his hand around Dannie’s neck and kissed her. The crowd roared and a man shouted, “Take her upstairs!”
Dannie pushed Robert away, clearly embarrassed. He followed her, apologies clear from the way he held out his arms. But the delicate virginal bride couldn’t take his manly aggressions and melted into the arms of her mother and that nun who had been in the ladies’ room.
They escorted her to the door, patting her hand and probably assuring her that this first night wasn’t going to be as bad as she thought.
Dannie happened to look up then and see Dori and Eric at the bar. Horrified recognition bloomed on her face. With a cynical twist to his lips, Eric saluted her with his drink and tossed it back.
His glass snapped on the wood. He gestured for a third.
Dori’s hand landed on his arm, which was trembling.
“Hey, you’ve still got the cutting of the cake to go,” she teased.
He glanced over. The pain in his eyes was unmistakable.
Dori went in. “You know her, don’t you?”
He took a moment to answer, straightening up on his stool and erasing any expression on his face. “She reminds me of someone I once knew.”
He then slid off the stool and walked out.
“Time out,” Dori said to Sela when she caught her spreading gloss on her bottom lip. Her sister sat in one of the club chairs in the Babcock & Story lounge.
Sela jumped when Dori grabbed her arm and yanked her up to her feet. “Come on.”
Avoiding the ladies’ room and taking a quick look around the busy lobby for Eric, Dori hustled Sela to one of the side staircases that were part of the original labyrinthine Victorian design.
“What has Eric told you about himself?” she asked.
“Not much,” Sela answered. “We haven’t been talking to get to know each other…if you know what I mean.”
“Pete told me that he’s Dannie’s ex-boyfriend.”
Sela’s blood iced over.
“We need to get him out of here,” Dori continued.
“Wha—Why?” Sela asked, still trying to process all that Dori was saying.
“I know you hate Dannie, but we can’t let Eric ruin this wedding.”
“But that would be perfect!”
“Sela! What about Robert? Or Mom and Dad? Stop thinking about yourself and think about what’s best for our family.”
“Not having Dannie as a sister-in-law is a good start.”
“If anything goes down that ruins this wedding, Mom and Dad will never forgive you or me. Ever. Do you want things to be worse between you guys?”
“I can’t see how they could get worse.”
“But do you want things to get worse, Sela? Over sex?” Dori let her think on that, and then she went in for the kill. “I know how much it hurts you that they give all this attention to Robert. But this could be your cha—”
“Do you really think Robert would ever protect us? We’re an afterthought to him, or else we wouldn’t be sitting at the table in the back of the room.”
“We’re better than Robert.”
“I can’t believe you’re taking his side now.” Sela pushed by her.
Dori made a grab for her arm and then saw the marks there. “Who did that?”
She didn’t have to ask again as Sela debated whether to tell her the truth. Dori knew it was her father who had left the marks. Anger filled every molecule in her body with blistering heat. She struggled to speak. “If you let Eric ruin this wedding,” she said, “Robert will not just walk away from Dannie. And she’s going to be that much more entrenched with him, making your life miserable.”
“Mom would stand up for me. Eventually.”
“Did she see that?” Dori pointed to Sela’s arm, hating the look on her sister’s face. “She never has, never will. We have to stop this.”
“How?”
“First, we need to see if Eric is still in the hotel. If he is, we’re doing this quietly with hotel security, to make sure he doesn’t disrupt anything. If Eric wants to confront Robert after the wedding, fine. But not here.”
“So what do you want me to do?”
“I want you to find Eric and keep him busy.”
Sela’s eyes lit up.
“Not like that. Just keep him in one place where I can find you with Security.”
“I’m supposed to meet him in the bar. He’s probably looking for me now.”
Sela tried to tell herself she wasn’t backstabbing Dori. This had nothing to do with Dori. This had everything to do with her family casting her to the shit pile in favor of Dannie. She was going to tear the curtain down so they would see that little bitch for exactly what she was.
It wouldn’t be a huge loss if her parents tossed her out of the family. Today showed that they loved Dannie more than they did their own daughter. Why shouldn’t she hurt them as much as they had hurt her?
Sela stopped short when she found Eric talking to Dannie’s maid of honor, Mackenzie, who held out her hands as if begging. She couldn’t see Eric’s face. Her skin chilled with fear as to what kind of man he was. Had he played her with that kiss, or had he genuinely liked her?
Wanting to hear what they were arguing about, she slipped into a wicker chair that was hidden from them by a potted palm tree.
“Stay away from her,” Mackenzie said. “She wants you out of her life.”
“Oh really? Then why did she spend the night with me two nights ago?”
Sela didn’t know whether to laugh or cry; whether to cheer with joy that she had found the chink in Dannie’s armor, or howl that she had contemplated sleeping with her sister-inlaw’s leftovers.
“You are such a dick,” Mackenzie spat, and then walked away with a swish of her skirt.
When Mackenzie made off for the ballroom, Sela couldn’t move. Her fingers wrapped around the edges of the chair’s arms. If she glanced down, would she see the imprint of her heart beating against her chest?
She swallowed the saliva pooling in her mouth and tried to loosen the tightness of her face.
“Wait,” she called to Eric’s back. But he couldn’t hear her.
When she caught up with him, she didn’t mean to blurt out, “I know about Dannie.”
He jerked to a complete stop and then turned to face her.
Okay, now what was she supposed to say?
“I think we can help each other,” she said.
She searched for the sexy, charming stranger at the bar but only found a mean, angry man whose pride had been destroyed by the woman he loved.
She momentarily considered turning and hiding in the ladies’ room for the rest of the wedding. But that’s exactly what Dori would expect from her. “How were you going to tell my brother about you and Dannie?”
He stared at her.
“Do you still love—”
“No.”
“Then why are you here, Eric?”
He stared at her, working his jaw.
Not quite comprehending the hypocrisy of her feelings, her breath got shaky in her chest. She had wanted to use him, and yet the idea that he tried to use her made her sick. “Did you come here to pick up some girl and rub her nose in it? Or…”
His face softened. “And I thought your sister was the one I had to look out for.”
Sela backed off when he reached out to touch her. He got the message and kept his hands to himself.
“I want your brother to know the kind of girl he married,” he said.
“Then go tell him.”
“And yet, I have my pride.” At the doubting lift of her eyebrow, he laughed softly at himself. “Or what’s left of it.”
“I can try to arrange for my brother to meet you in the bar.”
He shook his head. “I’ll do what I have to do.”
Chills raced up the backs of her legs. “Like what?”
He stepped back. “I’m going to show everyone at this wedding something they’ll never forget.”
“Hey, there’s my little policía,” Dad yelled when he saw her approaching him and his circle of cronies. Pete stood among them. He met Dori’s brief glance.
She needed to stay focused on Dad. He was well on his way to drunk, and in front of his friends he had a super macho image to maintain. This would not work in her favor unless she could get him alone.
“You arrest anyone today, mija?” her cousin Rudy asked with a chuckle. They all thought “girl cops” were a joke. But Dori knew that Rudy currently lived with his mother and was hiding his assets from his last wife, who wanted support for their two-year-old daughter.
She ignored him. “Hey, Dad, can I talk to you for a second?”
“I just started my cigar. Rudy brought some Cubans from Tijuana.”
“Yeah, so don’t arrest me, okay?” Rudy chided.
She glanced down at his meaty hand, which was patting her arm. She’d have to tell her cleaners to pay extra attention to that sleeve. When his eyes ventured to the neckline of her blouse, she decided to give his license plate to her friends at Border Patrol and consider it justice for his daughter.
“Would you gentlemen mind giving me a minute or two?” she asked.
“Hey, you don’t talk to my friends that way.”
They leered at her, waiting for the uppity little female to step back down into her place.
Pete spoke up. “Did you see that girl in the purple dress?” He jerked his head toward the ballroom.
Dad gave his friends a “What can you do?” look and then turned to her, flicking ash off his cigar by her feet.
They herded over to see what Pete was talking about.
“Dori, go take this to your mother,” Dad sighed, rocking back on his heels. “I don’t have time right now.”
“This isn’t something Mom can help with,” she said, hoping that would appeal to his male ego.
“I’d expect this bullshit from your sister, not you. What do you want?”
“Dannie’s ex-boyfriend snuck into the reception,” she said. “I’m getting Security involved to make sure he doesn’t cause trouble.”
Dad muttered in Spanish, “Women. Always stirring up trouble.” He downed what was left in his glass.
“So you just want me to let him run around?”
“You wouldn’t be doing this if you’d brought a date,” he said.
Frustration made her sick to her stomach. “You think I’d make this up? Why don’t I just leave it be and let him embarrass you and your new daughter-in-law?”
“Ack, get out of here,” he said, and then sauntered over to his friends.
Dori refused to look at Pete as she returned to the ballroom.
Sela came running up to her.
“Why aren’t you with Eric?” Dori asked. Then again, why should she care?
“I was, and he—” Sela stopped to catch her breath. “He said he’s going to do something. He said that Robert should know the woman he married.”
“I could care less,” Dori said. “I’m out of here.”
“Oh.” Sela shrugged. “Well, guess that’s that.”
A hand smacked Dori upside the head, and then Sela got one too. “What the—”
“I’ve been watching the both of you,” Grammy Cena started, “and when my sister and I were your age, one of us would’ve had El Tigre upstairs or at least in the ladies’ room!”
“Did you turn your ring around to give us concussions?” Dori asked while the back of her head stung.
Grammy righted her diamond ring, working her lips as she prepared another verbal assault.
“He’s Dannie’s ex-boyfriend,” Sela explained before they got smacked again. “And she slept with him two nights ago.”
Grammy blinked and her mouth dropped open. “No!”
“I overheard Mackenzie telling him to stay away.” She then told them everything.
“What does he want you to do?” Dori asked.
“Nothing. He just said that everyone would know what kind of woman Dannie is.”
Dori remembered that square bulge in his coat pocket, the trip to Cancun where his girlfriend got caught on the phone with another man. Dannie started dating Robert last year, and that square bulge was the same size as a minidigital videotape.
Suddenly, a light seared the surface of her eyeballs, and a guy squinting into the viewfinder of a camera said, “What do you have to say to Dannie and Robbie?”
Dori looked over her shoulder. The three of them were deer caught in the headlights on the huge screen behind the DJ.
“Oh fuck,” Dori said. “He has a tape.”
“Hey, this is live,” the camera guy barked.
“How did you know?” Sela asked.
But Dori didn’t hear them. She watched Robert kissing his bride’s hand, looking worshipfully into her eyes. Dannie’s smile was, for lack of a better word, tolerant.
Robbie glowed with happiness because he had no idea what he’d gotten himself into. Even though her brother had the emotional capacity of a gnat, he’d worked hard for his career and he took their parents to lunch every Sunday. But he had never shown affection to her or Sela, she thought, so why should she care?
But Dad had seen Sela with Eric. And when Eric did what Dori suspected he wanted to do, Sela would suffer.
For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, Sela was her little sister.
God damn it, Dori thought, knowing what she had to do.
“Where is Eric?” she asked Sela.
“Go with her!” Grammy demanded, giving Sela a push after the camera crew left them.
“What for?”
“The tape.”
Sela shook her head, trying to clear it. “What are you talking about?”
“Ay, God save me from this family,” Grammy begged, and then looked down from the ceiling to Sela. “Look there.”
She grabbed Sela’s head and turned it toward the DJ.
“Will you get off me!”
“Don’t you see?”
“See what?”
“Mija, how do you think El Tigre is going to tell Robert?”
“I don’t know—” Oh shit, Sela thought. He was going to play that tape on the live video feed. She whirled around. “You think?”
Grammy crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s what I would do.”
Sela ran back through the lobby and then down the halls that circled around into the main piano bar.
Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. She had to help Dori.
Walking on rubbery legs, she made it into the Crown Room, hoping against hope that Dori had found Eric or that there was no tape and no one would be the wiser. If anyone could do that, it would be Dori. As always, Sela realized, she had let herself get so swept up in some bullshit fantasy that she couldn’t see the truth.
Blinded by panic, she walked right into Dori.
“Do you have it?” she said in a rush. “Please say you have it.”
“I can’t find him. I have Security searching for him, but—”
“But he said—”
“More than likely he left,” Dori said, her eyes darting about the room. “Maybe he chickened out.”
Sela tried to absorb some of her sister’s calm but it wasn’t working.
“I’m out of here,” she suddenly declared, unable to face her parents when the shit hit the fan.
“Did you find him?” Grammy said, blocking Sela’s escape.
Dori shook her head, and Sela couldn’t stop the shivers chasing each other over her skin. Grammy drew her spine straight like a general about to walk with her soldiers into battle.
“Whatever happens, I will stand behind you,” she said.
“You always did,” Dori said, then noticed the tears sliding down Sela’s face. “Hey, come on.” She put her arm around Sela’s shoulders. “It’s not your fault.”
“What’s going on here?” Mom asked. “You three have been as thick as thieves.”
Dori, Sela, and Grammy slammed their mouths shut, not knowing what to say.
“Brenda,” Grammy began. “You need to sit down—”
The Shakira song that had been playing abruptly cut off and the feedback from the microphone sent hands clasping startled ears.
A familiar voice swept over the crowd and unbuckled Sela’s knees. “Everyone, I’d like your attention for a moment.”
Eric was on the dais in front of the DJ. He raised a glass of champagne to Robert and Dannie, who stood in the center of the dance floor.
“It’s not every day you find someone who loves you,” he started, and then paused meaningfully. “It’s not every day that you find someone you think you know better than yourself. Who you think trusts you and you can trust back.”
“Who’s that?” Mom asked.
Grammy Cena made the sign of the cross and began muttering a Hail Mary.
Dori released Sela and began pushing her way to the stage.
“I had that once with Dannie, and…” Eric paused, and curious murmurs hissed around the room. “And I don’t know why or how I lost that. So Robert, I think you should know what will happen to you when she finds someone better.”
The chandeliers switched off. The screen flashed on, and then there was Dannie on all fours with a naked Eric behind her.
For a moment, total, uncomprehending silence filled the ballroom.
“Turn off the tape!” someone shouted as five hundred people got to see Dannie in a way that only her gynecologist should have seen her.
A group of men surged at the stage while Robert and Dannie stood frozen in the center of the dance floor, their silhouettes trapped against the glaring video screen.
Sela knew that the images of her sister-in-law with Eric would be forever burned onto her brain.
“Oh my—” her mom managed, her eyes glued to the screen.
“Well, now I know why Tío Fermin was coming around the house,” Grammy said with a sigh. “That Dannie definitely ain’t no virgin now.”
Dori had Eric’s arm twisted behind his back just as his feet hit the floor to escape the snarling crowd.
“You want to live?” she asked as she shoved him toward the kitchen doors used by the wait staff.
He might have had a hundred pounds and a foot on her, but in her arm lock, he had no choice but to comply.
“You’re a little late, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice strained from the pain she sent up into his shoulder.
“Dori!” Pete called. He held the kitchen doors open for her. “I’ll hold them closed.”
Pete followed her and Eric into the clattering kitchen. Outside the metal doors, she heard chairs and tables being overturned in the ballroom.
Eric grunted when she pushed him out the back door into an alleyway of generators.
“You made your point, now go,” she said, out of breath.
Eric held his shoulder, eyeing her like a wounded tiger.
“Your brother should be grateful,” he said huskily, as if he were about to cry. “I gave up everything for her.”
In that moment, Dori saw herself in him. Hopelessly in love with someone who had toyed with him. She couldn’t hate him or pity him because they were two sides of the same coin.
“All you had to do,” she heard herself saying to him, “was tell her good-bye. Robert would’ve figured her out sooner or later.”
Then she walked back through the kitchen.
Half of the ballroom had emptied. Robert stood on the stage, his face frozen in shock as his fist dribbled blood from the broken pieces of the plastic tape.
Dannie had sunk into her white skirts, her hands protecting her face as her maid-of-honor crouched protectively over her. Those who hadn’t left stood there holding their gifts in their arms, staring at her with expressions of disgust, pity, and wicked glee.
“Is this what you—”
Her dad’s voice turned her head. He advanced on Sela, who stood at the edge of the dais.
“Did you do this to your brother?” he shouted, his spit hitting Sela in the face.
Dori broke into a run as his fist came up, aimed at Sela, who was frozen in place with fear.
“Stop!” Mom’s voice lashed out, stopping him.
“Don’t you dare,” Dori growled, holding his raised arm in place. “You’ve done enough.” She swept in then, to shelter her sister.
“I tried to tell you,” Dori said, staring her father dead in the eye. “If you should be hitting anyone, it should be your precious daughter-in-law.”
Dannie’s muffled groan turned everyone’s attention back to her.
Disgusted, Dori rushed Sela out of the ballroom. Grammy followed, holding their purses.
“I’m taking you home with me,” Dori said as they crossed into the lobby.
“I’ll be okay,” Sela replied through chattering teeth.
“You’ll be better if you’re not alone.”
“Bring her to my house,” Grammy insisted. “Both of you will stay with me.”
The sharp air hit their faces, and Dori took in a deep breath.
“Get us a cab,” she ordered the valet. Grammy opened her mouth in protest, and Dori said, “None of us are in any condition to drive.”
“You can let me go,” Sela said in a stronger voice.
Dori released her, and was relieved when Sela didn’t topple over from the suspicious stares of the wedding guests waiting for their cars.
She wished they’d hurry up with the cab. She never wanted to see such a horrible humiliation again. Dannie wasn’t one of her favorite people, but even she didn’t deserve that. The sooner they were away from all of this, the better.
She closed her eyes, thinking about what might be going through her brother’s mind. It was one thing to find out that the woman he loved had lied to him; it was a whole new level of ugliness to find out in front of his wedding guests.
“Dori,” Pete said behind her.
She immediately pictured Eric, the beaten spirit in his eyes when she’d tossed him out of the kitchen. She would do better, she thought. She would never be that broken. And so she faced Pete for the last time. “Good-bye, Pete,” she said softly.
He opened his mouth and his eyes were suspiciously wet. His fiancée smiled with understanding at her under the wide porch that spanned the front of the hotel.
Dori felt Sela’s hand sneak into hers and hold on as Pete walked to his fiancée.
“Don’t look,” Sela said as she pulled her away.
They said nothing as Sela pushed her into a minivan taxi. Dori had cut the last thread holding her to him. She went still before allowing herself to imagine looking at another man and not comparing him to Pete.
The driver helped Grammy into the back, and suddenly Robert’s voice shot out through the melee. “Hey wait!”
His jacket flapped open as he ran around the startled bumper of a Mercedes. “You knew?” he asked roughly.
“We tried to stop him,” Sela explained. “We didn’t want you to find out this way.”
“Roberto!” Dad hollered, and he and Mom hurried down the steps. Dannie and her parents were hot on their heels.
“I need to get out of here,” Robert said, looking around as if he were lost. “I can’t—”
Sela grabbed him and hauled him into the van, slamming the door.
“Where are you taking him?” Dad asked from outside, his voice muffled by the window. “Come back here!”
The window buzzed down, and Grammy Cena shouted, “Get away from this cab or I’ll send your Tío Fermin to your house!”
“Let them go,” Mom said, surprising everyone. “Just let them go.”
“Brenda—” Dad started, his voice sharp with annoyance.
Dori snapped back to life and threw open the door. “Get in,” she ordered her mother. Her father was so startled he didn’t react in time to stop her.
“There’s no more room for you,” Dori told him, then slammed the door shut.
The door locks engaged and they lurched forward as the driver hit the gas, speeding off into the misty night. Sela had twisted around from the front passenger seat with a smile on her face.
“Aren’t you glad to be back in the insanity?” she asked.
Dori shook her head in wonder that the explosion of her brother’s wedding brought them together in a unified front. Maybe it would last the night, maybe it wouldn’t. Either way, Dori thought perversely, that yes, she was glad to be back.