The Return to Tormenta by Maria DiMonda

Author:Maria DiMonda
Language: eng
Format: epub

21

I made the decision to leave my car parked at home when Javier texted me the address. I just had to walk fifteen minutes from my house to reach a part of Tormenta that I had never explored. My mother took me to her office when she first started working for my grandma's real estate company. Out of boredom, I would occasionally listen to her chats with the other agents, and they frequently discussed this neighborhood. Due to gang clashes that occasionally result in shootings and innocent people dying unfairly, they constantly said they would not receive apartment listings if they were from that area. Gun violence had decreased over time, but the area's image as a hub for drug trafficking had not changed.

The navigation on my phone eventually directed me to the street where Javier resided. I had an adrenaline surge as I entered the gloomy lane. A litter of empty liquor bottles and shattered glass was illuminated by a wavering streetlamp. I continued walking while gazing at a graffiti of Frida Kahlo on a dilapidated wall. With their hands tucked inside of their black hoodies, two young men were standing outside the entrance of a smaller alley. I could feel their eyes on me as I moved quickly in the direction the map indicated. As I passed by them, my heart was racing, but they said nothing. Maybe they would only harm those who appeared to pose a threat to their drug-dealing livelihood; but, with my black tube dress and the sneakers I was now wearing in place of my previous high platform heels, I most definitely did not look like a threat.

I arrived at a dated, beige-colored structure. I got buzzed shortly after texting Javier to let him know I was there. I could hear a baby wailing in one apartment and the sound of a television broadcasting the news, and the interior of the building smelled like chicken soup. Javier had sent me the apartment number, so I walked up the stairs and rang the doorbell.

Ahmed opened the door.

“Alice!” He looked pleased to see me. “Come in!”

The apartment was compact, and I entered the living room where a boho-style multicolored sofa and a few musical instruments, including a guitar, ukulele, and deejay console, took up most of the area. The air was filled with the scent of marijuana from a blunt that was smoking out of an ashtray. I peered around and noticed a little door leading to a room with a cooking stove and a washing machine.

“Where did you park your car? I can tell my neighbors to watch it during the night.”

“I actually walked here. It’s not that far from where I live.”

Ahmed opened his eyes in shock. “It’s true when they say that rich people live completely out of reach of the world. You walked alone to Tormenta's most dangerous neighborhood dressed like that?”

I shrugged. “I’m sure it’s not as dangerous as they say. And I’m not rich, my grandma and my parents are.

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