Hired by Zoey Castile

Author:Zoey Castile
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2018-12-14T05:00:00+00:00

13

La Tortura

AIDEN

We come out of the Tarot shop a little dazed, but I still hold her hand in mine, even if we avoid each other’s eyes.

“That was,” I say, searching for the right word, but settling on, “interesting. Four kids. Damn. I didn’t even think I’d get one.”

“This is the second time I got the same reading,” Faith admits, looking down at the floor. There’s something cute and shy about the way she pushes her hair away from her face. “I guess no matter how hard I try I’m going to do what my mother always wanted.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in silly things like fate and Tarot cards,” I remind her.

“You’re right,” she says, smiling. “I don’t. So I won’t worry and will go about my days.”

But that’s the thing. I do believe in silly things like the Universe and Tarot cards, and above all, fate. I’m superstitious. Can’t help it. Grew up that way. But the thing the psychic said about my mother—if that’s who he was talking about, it’s going to keep getting to me if I don’t stop my thoughts from cycling.

I don’t want to think about those things with Faith.

I don’t want to think about that reading anymore. Let it go.

He was talking about so many things. What do I begin to let go of? The memory of an anger so deep I haven’t called my old man in years? The weight of my feelings for Faith? Faith herself. I have to let her go.

In turn, she has to let me go before she can have her happy ending.

But I’m weak. I’m selfish, and I can’t let her slip away. I can’t tell her the truth.

Not just yet.

Instead, I say, “I have to find a souvenir for my tía Ceci. Everywhere I go I get her a shot glass. I think at this point she has enough to have everyone at Christmas do a shot at the same time.”

Faith blesses me with a smile. “Come, I think I know just the place.”

She leads me down Dumaine Street, makes a right on Chartres, and then we’re in Jackson Square, wading against the late-night traffic searching for bars or dark corners to make out. Inside a small shop with all kinds of trinkets and postcards. I can’t decide between the glittery, gaudy tiny glasses, so I buy three. When we come out of the shop, Faith walks ahead of me. I reach for her hand to pull her back to me. Whatever our futures hold, I can’t help but feel that in this moment, our hands should be entwined. She glances back, her eyes alight with something that tugs on a part of me I thought I’d hidden.

Then, there’s a flash.

“A memory for the lovers?” an older woman asks us. She’s got an old model Polaroid. It hasn’t developed yet, but I can’t imagine walking away without it.

I pay an exorbitant amount for the Polaroid, and we sit on a bench to watch the melee of people around us.

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