Glass Cage by Francesca Baez

Author:Francesca Baez
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Francesca Baez

* * *

I miss the time in my life when I wasn’t under constant surveillance.

Whether it’s El Sombrerón’s men, or the police backup, or the press, I feel like I’m being watched no matter where I turn, by enemies and allies alike. It’s almost as bad as prison. At least I get to piss in privacy now.

The wedding is in two days, and I still don’t feel ready. All I have to do is stand at the front of a church and repeat a few words, but there is so much else that could go wrong. I don’t think El Sombrerón will strike so publicly, but we must be prepared all the same. And then what? My new bride and I live day to day, holding our breath and praying this won’t be the night one or both of us meet an early grave? It’s not a life either of us asked for, but the decision was taken away from us long ago, by people who paid for their mistakes with their lives long before they had a chance to see those same mistakes destroy their children. It’s not fair, but nothing ever is.

What we need is a honeymoon. Not a sex vacation to the Caribbean—although after our oral escapades last week, I’m hopeful that might be in our future. No, what we need right now is a moment to catch our breaths, just the two of us, far enough away from Atlanta that we don’t have to be constantly looking over our shoulders, waiting for the next bomb to drop. The idea takes root in my head, and I minimize the spreadsheets I was looking at, the ones that show the clear decline in Café Palacios’s income since parting ways with El Sombrerón, and pull up a search for flights.

A quick drive to Blue Ridge or Asheville won’t do. No, we have to go far enough that there will be no following us. Far enough where there will be no need for fear. And yes, I say to the nagging voice in my head that sounds an awful lot like Miel’s, I know we can’t leave Atlanta for more than a few days, not with so much on the line. And I know Selina won’t be the least bit appreciative of the gesture. She’ll be pissed, convinced that this is some mind game, a play at getting between her legs. I don’t care about that, either. She needs a moment of respite from the stress of our daily lives, even if she plans on fighting it. And if such a trip happens to land her in my bed again, well, then so be it.

One weekend. I’m taking one weekend to hole up in an expensive hotel in a foreign land with my beautiful new wife, and then we’ll come back to the real world. That’s the least we deserve.

With one click, I’ve ordered two first-class tickets to Paris.

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