Chapter 57

When he showed up, I went over to the window. He was standing outside the gate, his car parked right in front of my house. He smiled at me, that sexy grin and the smug face like he thought he was gonna fuck me. For a second, I almost ditched the whole plan and jumped in his car to head straight to the damn motel. I’d miss that cock I barely got to enjoy.

I was pissed at him, but deep down, I wasn’t even sure I had the right to be that mad. Hell, I didn’t know how to act anymore, hadn’t even stopped to think if any of this was right. My dad just said:

“Go to the kitchen.”

I barely sat down when he crossed the open doorway. The jerk walked in all smiles, but one look around and he was shaking like a leaf. He could tell right away the vibe in there wasn’t good for him. He clutched his wallet and keys like they were lucky charms, still trying to play it cool. He hadn’t noticed us in the kitchen yet.

“Have a seat, man,” my dad ordered, his voice flat, without lifting a finger.

The guy let out a nervous laugh, tried a “good afternoon” that nobody answered, and sat down all hunched over. Then he looked toward the kitchen. Froze. Put his hand to his face, and his expression turned to pure panic. From happy to scared shitless in seconds.

“Son… which motel were you gonna take my daughter to?” my dad asked, straight up.

“N-no motel, sir…” he stammered.

“So my daughter lied?”

Silence. The jerk went quiet, not knowing where to look.

“You’re not gonna answer, huh… I get it,” my dad said, pausing long, almost poetic. He scratched his belly slow, and when the guy opened his mouth to try speaking, he cut him off again:

“And that other pretty girl over there?”

Mariana had her eyes and mouth wide open, stiff with tension. Diana was holding back tears, but you could see the anger in her — the mouth trembling, about to break. Me, if I had to stand up and walk right then, I’d have face-planted on the floor.

Our boyfriend looked around like someone might pop up and save him from this mess. The only one who disapproved of everything was my stepdad, shaking his head no — such a fucking coward.

The jerk tried to look at me, his eyes begging for help. But I stayed still, no expression. Inside, it was a mix of fear, nerves, and, hell if I know why, shame. Shame because my dad was right there, talking about motels, like I was still a virgin. If only he knew…

“Not gonna answer?” my dad broke the silence, his voice heavy. “I’ll help you: you were dating my daughter and that girl at the same time.”

The old man’s stare was like a knife.

“You know what happens to hustlers like you where I come from?”

The guy just nodded yes, not daring to open his mouth. And that was the smartest thing he could’ve done. If he let out one wrong word, my dad would’ve killed him right there. And I’m not exaggerating.

“And the girl’s money?” my dad turned full mobster. “I want it now.”

The guy sighed deep, trying to muster some courage.

“Look, sir… I don’t have it right now.” And he turned his eyes to Diana, begging. “I told her I’d pay her on payday.”

My dad didn’t let up.

“Kid, a guy like you has no word. You’re a piece of shit, a filthy dog, a goddamn worm.” His tone rose, sharp. He adjusted the gun at his waist, leaned forward on the edge of his chair, and said: “I want some guarantee from you or something, and I want it now. Or you leave here flat on your back, you piece of shit.”

My mom, quiet till then, spoke up like she knew how to play along:

“Easy now, man. You’re not gonna shoot somebody in my house, for God’s sake. Police can’t come here, you hear?”

If I didn’t know my mom, I’d swear she meant it. But no. It was all theater. If my dad was Lampião, she was Maria Bonita. Just ramping up the fear in the poor bastard.

“But… but, sir… I don’t have…” the guy stammered, sweating bullets.

My dad stood up. Went to the window, took a look outside, and when he came back, he looked at me. Smiled. And it was his smile, the same smug son-of-a-bitch grin I’d inherited.

“Come here, punk.”

“No, what, sir?”

“Come on. Be a man.”

My dad grabbed him by the neck, but didn’t even need to squeeze hard. The guy went limp and they both headed out.

The three of us jumped up and ran to the window, but my mom shut it down quick:

“Sit down. Everybody in the kitchen.”

“He’s not gonna kill him, right?” Diana asked, almost crying, her voice choked.

“No, I don’t think so…” Mariana answered, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

The two of them stayed outside, in front of the house, about ten minutes talking. I was biting my nails from nerves. Then, from the other window, I saw the guy pulling his car into my garage. My dad waited at the gate, arms crossed, watching him park like a jailer seeing the prisoner head back to his cell. When they finished, they came back in.

“Now, punk, apologize for disrespecting the house.”

He went to my mom, head down, shaking like a leaf.

“Forgive me, ma’am…”

My mom let out a low but clear “no.”

“It’s up to you, woman,” my dad said, face stone.

“Apologize to Julia.”

“I-I’m sorry, Jujube…” he said, almost crying.

That’s when my dad lost it: he smacked the back of his head hard, quick, making us three scream in shock.

“Sorry my ass, you piece of shit! It’s forgive me. And to you, it’s Julia, you worthless fuck!”

The guy hunched his shoulders, trying to shield from the next hit, and stammered at me:

“F-forgive me… forgive me, Julia.”

I stayed quiet. What I really wanted was for him to drop dead. But the truth? After all that, if he wanted to take me to the motel, I would’ve gone. Fuck it, who’s gonna judge me?

My dad pointed at Diana.

“Apologize to her too.”

“Forgive me, Diana. I promise I won’t do this to anyone else…”

“Now you can go, punk. Whenever you want, you know: just come in and take your car, no need to talk to anybody, the garage will always be open.” His words froze everyone in the room. “We got a deal?”

“Yes, sir…” the guy answered, voice choked.

My dad leaned forward a bit, eyes hard.

“I’ll remind you, to avoid any mix-up: I’m not Jujube, I’m not Diana, nor the sluts you scam on the street. You can get your car anytime… but if you take it without settling with me, you know, right? I’ll come after you. And it won’t be to talk. Got it?”

“Got it, yes, sir.”

“You can take your car keys.”

The guy left without saying goodbye, head down, no guts to even look back. And when the door shut, the silence was broken only by our heavy breathing. The vibe of revenge done right started exploding inside, like lit gunpowder. When he crossed the gate, we were cheering and laughing like it was the end of the World Cup.

“Auntie, where’s the champagne?” Mariana yelled, being a smartass.

“What champagne, Mariana! Cut the crap.” My mom scolded, but laughing.

Diana hugged me and laughed loud, almost crying.

“God, I feel so washed clean! Serves that little shit right! I’m so happy… OH MY GOOOOD!!!! SCREEEAM!!!!!”

She even ran to hug my dad, who got all awkward, and the blonde squeezed him so hard she almost crushed the poor guy.

But someone wasn’t satisfied: me.

“Dad, his car can’t stay in our garage…” I let out that smug daughter-of-a-bitch laugh. “We ride bikes through there, it always scrapes… it’ll end up scratching his whole car.”

My dad looked at me, serious, but then gave back the same sly smile, just like mine.

“I want his car to fuck off. If it gets scratched, fuck it.”

His look was the most smug approval in the world.

“Mariana, Diana… let’s go check something in the garage.” I said, already grabbing a kitchen knife.

And off we went. Diana and I unloaded all our rage on the car’s body, scratching it from end to end, no mercy. Mariana laughed, making a racket. It was the first time I saw real anger in Diana’s eyes, each scratch like she was erasing his name from her life. But the fun didn’t last long. Even though she didn’t live with us, the habit of yelling came from my dad.

“JUJUBE, THE LITTLE SHIT GAVE ME HIS PHONE NUMBER BUT I FORGOT HIS NAME.”

I laughed; my dad had a terrible memory.

“IT’S CLETUS, DAD!!!!!!”