Crossing the Line by Simone Elkeles
As he drives off I feel like I've just won the lottery.
Juan Camacho just agreed to train me.
It's too unreal. Not able to contain myself, I let out a triumphant yell that can probably be heard in the next town over.
Back in the gym, I share the news with Mateo. "Thanks for everything, man," I say, grateful he was able to get Camacho into the gym.
"Dude, you did it all. You did it!" he says as we do a bro handshake. "I knew if he just saw you in the ring he'd train you."
"What about you?" I ask him. "Don't you want him to train you?"
"I wish, but I've got so much shit goin' on I don't have time to commit to anythin' right now."
"You giving up boxing?"
"Nah," he says. "Just taking a mini break for the summer. I'll be closely watchin' you from the sidelines though, Hess. I've got your back, remember?"
I want to call my mom and tell her the news. It's stupid, I know, but I'd like to hear that she's proud of me for what I've managed to accomplish. Although to be honest, I haven't accomplished anything but winning fifty pesos and Juan Camacho's promise to train me a couple days a week. It'll sound pretty weak to someone who doesn't know anything about boxing.
For the next two days I focus on working out and sparring with anyone who walks into the gym. Some guys refuse to spar with me because I'm a gringo. The fact that I don't have any championships or real fights behind me makes me a noob.
But when Camacho comes in, I earn a little street cred.
Most of the guys hardly talk, so the language barrier isn't an issue.
I'm not so lucky when Camacho is training me.
"Manten las rodillas dobladas," he says. "O perderas tu equilibrio."
I look at him with a deadpan expression on my face. "I have no clue what you just said," I tell him.
He points to his knees. "Rodillas. Knees. Bend your knees, Ryan."
When I do what he says, he nods in approval. "Muy bien."
At the end of our session he lays down the rules. "Sleep by ten, wake by six, and run for an hour. Eat four eggs for breakfast with spinach and tortillas. Girls are a distraction, so no girls."
"Of course. No girls."
Camacho shakes a crooked, arthritic finger at me. "And no cage fighting. You fight outside of the gym, I'm done. ?Comprendes?"
"I won't let you down."
"You better not."
After Camacho leaves, Mateo enters the gym wearing a suit and tie.
"You getting married?" I ask him. "Who's the lucky girl?"
"There's no wedding." He puts his foot up on a chair and poses as if he's on the cover of GQ magazine. "What do you think? I look good, right? I've got bodyguard duty for some rich girl's birthday tonight. Pays two hundred bucks."
"Bucks or pesos?"
"We're talkin' cold hard American dollars."
I'm so hard up for money that two hundred bucks for one night's work sounds like a fucking fortune.
"I'd ask you to come, but I'm gonna take a wild guess that you don't have a suit. Besides, all the security and bodyguard positions are filled."
"It's cool," I tell him. "I'll just hang in the gym tonight."
Mateo shakes his head. "I already told you. Too much time in the gym'll make you go loco, Ryan."
"Yeah, well I don't have much of a choice. My car is almost out of gas, I've got less than ten pesos left to my name . . . and I've got a fight coming up."
"Life could be worse, mi amigo."
"You don't see me complaining."
"Well, let me know when you're fighting," he says. "I'll be rooting for you, even if I'll be the only one rooting for the anonymous white dude."
It's nice having a friend like Mateo who doesn't give a shit about where I come from. He'll root for me no matter what, which is more than I can say for my blood relatives.
He starts bragging about some girl he met last night when he gets a text. "Damn. This guy Arturo canceled tonight and they're looking for another bodyguard." He looks up at me. "Someone in charge saw us together at the cage fight the other night. He wants me to ask if you're interested in filling in for Arturo. He'll lend you a suit. Two hundred bucks to stand around while some rich princess gets showered with gifts."
I don't even have to think about it. "I'm all in."
Sixteen
Dalila
I love parties, except when they're my own. I hate being the center of attention. I want to jump out the window and escape, but I know my mama is looking forward to hosting my birthday party. Every family member will be here along with neighbors and friends.
To calm my nerves, I put in my earbuds and listen to Shadows of Darkness. Instead of thinking about Lucas, now every song somehow reminds me of Ryan. It's completely annoying. When the song "Too Tough to Fall" comes on, I think about Ryan not backing down when Rico confronted him and when he was in the cage at the underground club. As I close my eyes and listen to "Heartbreak," the lyrics trigger questions about Ryan's love life. I wonder if Ryan's left a trail of heartbroken girls back in the US like that redheaded girl Mikayla from the concert.
I yank my earbuds out in frustration.
Margarita, Coco, and Galena are already downstairs. My sisters love parties. They also love being the center of attention, which is fine with me.
"What did you decide to wear?" Lola asks me as she sets a water pitcher on my nightstand.
I shrug. "Maybe the white dress."
"What about the red one your mama bought for you?" She grabs it out of my closet. It's a beautiful fitted dress that still has the tags on it.
I look at the dress Lola is holding. What if it was bought with illegal money my papa made from representing clients like Santiago Vega?
I need to stop thinking about it. Papa is a lawyer, that's it. A powerful lawyer. He helps people who might not live their lives within the law, but that doesn't mean he's involved in any illegal activity. He's not connected to drug lords, even if his clients are.
That thought doesn't make me feel any better.
"Lola, I need you!" Coco yells from the hallway. Lola places the dress on my bed with an apology and quickly leaves my room to tend to my sister.
Soft music starts playing and I can hear people starting to arrive, their voices carrying throughout the courtyard into our rooms. The courtyard is brightly decorated with colorful lights. Tables with enough food to feed an entire town are placed around the house.
I hold the red dress up to my body in the mirror. It's soft and beautiful and feels like silk against my skin. As I slip into it, I push away all negative thoughts.
After putting makeup on and getting texts from my friends asking where I am and accusing me of wanting to make a grand entrance, I'm ready to celebrate my eighteenth birthday.
"Mija, you look gorgeous," Papa tells me as he walks into my room.
Mama is standing beside him, wearing a long white dress fit for a queen. Her hair is in a perfect updo and her bright red lips accentuate the beauty of her flawless honey-brown skin. She opens her arms wide and pulls me into an embrace as she wishes me a happy birthday.
Papa holds out a little box wrapped with silver paper and a big blue bow.
"It's your present," Mama chimes in.
"Open it," Papa says.
After carefully unwrapping the box, I open it and suck in a breath. Inside the box is a stunning necklace with a big ruby heart surrounded entirely with diamonds.
"It's too much," I whisper as I finger the sparking jewels.
"Nothing is too good for you, mija," Papa says.
Mama takes the necklace out of the box and secures it around my neck. "It shines as much as your spirit and is as beautiful as you are, Dalila. Inside and out. We can't wait until you graduate from medical school." She smiles warmly. "You're the perfect daughter."
"She's right. You make us proud to be your parents every day," Papa says.
Mama leaves the room after being summoned by Margarita. Something about being low on tortill
I grab Papa's elbow before he can walk out of my room. "Papa, can we talk for a second?"
"Sure, mija. But only for a second. We have guests to attend to."
"Why did you hire bodyguards tonight?"
"Because we have a lot of guests and I want to make sure everyone is safe," he tells me.
"Why wouldn't we be safe?"
He cocks a brow. "Why all the questions?"
Suddenly I don't even want to bring it up. Is it because I'm afraid of knowing the truth? "I heard something at the club the other night."
He places a comforting hand over mine. "What did you hear?"
I swallow and my heart starts racing. "Nothing. I just want to make sure you're okay. I know you've been under a lot of stress and now you've hired bodyguards for tonight. It all worries me."
"Whoa." My dad holds up his hands as if halting my concern. "Don't worry about me. It's my job to worry about you. I'm a lawyer, Dalila. My ultimate goal is to help my clients with their legal issues. Sometimes it's stressful." He kisses the top of my forehead. "Come downstairs. Everyone is waiting to wish you feliz cumpleanos."
"Okay," I say, but there's a nagging feeling inside me that he's holding back the truth of why he's been under a lot of pressure. My abuela's letter is proof of that.
Fingering the jewels on my neck anxiously, I walk down to the party. A huge chorus of "!Feliz cumpleanos!" erupts in our courtyard.
I want to retreat and hide from all the attention, but instead I do what's expected of me. I plaster a smile on my face and walk gracefully down the stairs to the waiting crowd, half of whom I've never seen before.
"I love the necklace!" Soona cries out as she envelops me in a big hug. "It's beautiful. Why have you been hiding that from me?"
"It's new," I tell her. "A birthday present."
I greet my cousins and get hugs from my aunts and uncles while classical music echoes through the speakers scattered throughout our courtyard. It's not Shadows of Darkness, but it makes me think of better times. As I weave my way through the crowd, I see my dad's business associates and clients. It's easy to spot them. They're wearing expensive suits, and their wives, girlfriends, and children are dripping with shiny jewels.
Passing the hallway mirror, I feel like one of them and it just makes me feel embarrassed. I wonder how many meals that little homeless boy Sergio could buy with all the jewelry here tonight.
After talking to a couple of my cousins and making small talk with my father's clients, I head to the food table.
"Did you miss me?" Rico asks, coming up behind me. I turn around to see him holding a beer. "I haven't seen you since the cage fights."
I manage a smile and dodge his question.
He sets his beer down on an empty table. "Show me the gardens. It'll be like the old days when we were kids."
I lead him through the house and walk out the back door. Nobody is out here except for one of the hired bodyguards for my celebration. I've always felt safe at home, even at night when I come out here to be alone. The inviting smell of the flowers is familiar and comforting, something I'll miss when I go away to the university in Mexico City.
Rico's following me, but he's concentrating on his phone and hasn't even stopped to notice the impressive yellow-and-white frangipani. I close my eyes as I breathe in their fragrance and my stress level immediately lowers.
When I open my eyes, Rico's face is inches from mine. Before I can pull back, he presses his lips to mine and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me close. I'm not ready for this. Not now. Not with him.
I push him away, glad when our lips separate. "Rico, we're just friends," I tell him.
He looks too sure of himself as he closes the distance between us again. "I know you like me."
"As a friend."
He laughs. "Come on, Dalila. Last year you were upset when I was texting other girls. I'm not preoccupied with anyone now. You don't have to play games with me."
"I'm not playing games, Rico."
"Have you ever had a boyfriend?"
I don't tell him I've been too busy trying to make up for Lucas's death to have time to devote to someone else. "Not for a while."
"You've been too sheltered by your parents, stuck in this compound." His slightly arrogant attitude shines through with a mischievous smile. "Your dad will approve of us dating. Don't think so much, and let me be a distraction."
Rico presses his body to mine again, so close that I can feel how much of a distraction he wants to be.
"Let her go," a deep, commanding voice orders. A voice I've replayed in my head over and over since I met him at the Shadows of Darkness concert.
It's Ryan.
He's standing a few feet away from us wearing a suit that's meant for someone a few inches shorter and not as muscular. He's also got a walkie-talkie hooked on to his belt.
Rico's grip on me loosens. "What are you doing here?"
Ryan gestures to his walkie-talkie. "Isn't it obvious?"
"It's obvious you're the hired help, pendejo. Nothing more."
The insult doesn't seem to faze Ryan. He takes a step toward us. "The hired help is telling you to get your hands off her."
Rico stands tall. "I'm warning you. Leave us alone."
"If you touch her again without her permission," Ryan says, not backing down, "you'll wish you listened to me the first time I said it. I don't give people two warnings."
Seventeen
Ryan
It's me against Rico. He's staring me down as if I'm likely to cower and back away. That's not gonna happen. It doesn't happen with my stepfather, Sheriff Paul Blackburn. It sure as hell isn't happening with this punk.
Mateo appears at my side. His eyes are wide as he witnesses the standoff. "Rico, your father is looking for you," he says. "He told me to find you."
Rico straightens his shirt, then steps away from Dalila. "You're lucky this time," he says, pointing to me. He starts to walk back into the house but stops when he's a few inches from my face. "She'll never look at you as more than a pathetic peasant. Keep your filthy paws off her." He leans in close so only I can hear. "Oh, and the next time you cock-block me like that, I'm gonna make sure you never get hired in Mexico again. By anyone."
After he disappears, Mateo gives me a questioning look. "Everythin' okay out here?" he asks, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
Dalila's eyes capture mine. I don't look away. "I'm fine," I tell him.
She glances at Mateo. "I'm fine, too," she says.
Mateo can't keep the amused smile off his face. "If you need anythin', you know where to find me."
So now Dalila and I are alone in the garden.
Hell, if I knew it was Dalila's birthday party I was hired for tonight, I wouldn't have come. The girl has been nothing but a distraction, the one thing preventing me from focusing on what I need to do. The fact that I was barely able to keep myself in control while confronting Rico is a sign that I need to keep my distance. This is a job, nothing more. But the feelings of protectiveness are all too personal.
"Just so you know, I still don't need a hero," she tells me with a little tilt to her chin. "Rico isn't a threat."
"He's bigger than you. And stronger." What does she think, that she could fight him off if he decided to assault her?
"I'm tougher than I look."
"I'll bet." Taking in the bright red dress that hugs the curves on her small frame, I try to hold in my laughter. "Next time you pick a boyfriend, you might want to pick someone . . ."
"Like you?" she says. "I don't think so. Besides, Rico Cruz isn't my boyfriend. Since I'm obviously fine, you can go back to your lookout now."
She storms off farther into the gardens, her red dress like a beacon weaving through the maze of brightly colored flowers and lush greenery. She's steering away from the party and isolating herself. I follow because I'm not about to let her out of my sight. I've got a job to protect this place, which includes Dalila. If protecting the princess means pissing
She glances back at me. "I want to be alone."
"Then go back inside the house."
She throws up her hands and looks at me as if I'm an idiot. "How do you expect me to be alone when there's like two hundred people back there?"
I state the obvious. "If you wanted to be alone, maybe you should have thought twice about inviting half of Mexico to your birthday party."
"I didn't have a choice about the party. My parents planned it."
"Be grateful you have parents who want to throw you parties," I throw back at her.
"You don't know anything, Ryan Hess." She looks off into the distance beyond the compound. "Sometimes I want to be free of this place. It's confining, like a prison sometimes, with someone watching over me every second of every day. I'm sheltered and yet I'm supposed to be happy. You have no clue what it's like to have your entire life planned out for you by other people."
"I'd do just about anything to have parents who care," I tell her. "And a place to call home. Maybe you're just a spoiled, privileged rich girl who'll never be happy with anything you have. Nothing will ever be enough. Not the fancy clothes or the beautiful house or people who get paid a lot of money to protect you."
She narrows her eyes at me, as I've obviously hit a nerve. "As long as we're analyzing each other, why don't I turn this around? Why do you take such pleasure in fighting, Ryan?"
"I'm sure you have a theory. I'd love to hear it."
"Obviously you need to feed your ego. You want people to look at you like you're superhuman."
"I don't have an ego," I tell her. I'm not about to share the sob story called my life. Not with her or anyone else. I step up to her and cross my arms. "I've been hired to protect this compound and I'm not about to be dismissed back to my station because some bossy girl insists she can fight off some jerk who might want to force himself on her. Sorry, but none of those things are happenin' on my watch."
Her nostrils flare as she breathes through them. "Nothing's going to happen to me."
"Right. Because I'm here."
"No. It's because I can take care of myself." The mighty princess puts her hands on her curvy hips.
I clear my throat. "Oh, really? Do you have a gun or any other weapon?"
"No." She tilts her chin in the air. "I don't need one."
"You think what Rico taught you back at the gym is gonna save you?" I laugh. "Because I'll tell you right now, he's an amateur."