"Ay, mija, you look thin," Maria Fernandes exclaimed, her hands assessing Isabella's well-being with maternal concern as if looking for scars or signs of suffering.
"Mom, I look the same as when I left," Isabella replied, a hint of amusement in her voice. "I would know; I did weigh myself."
The emotional rollercoaster of the weekend had left Isabella yearning for her mother's comforting presence. That Wednesday morning, she hurried through her chores, anticipating a long journey to Boyle Heights.
However, as she was leaving, Mark intercepted her, placing the key fob of the Ford F-150 Raptor into her palms. Isabella initially thought he made some mistake, but Mark's words confirmed his generosity and sincerity. "She is a beast, and it's been unfair tying her up like that… she needs to rip, and you need a car." She had jumped on him with excitement and they had kissed again for the first time since that night.
With a clear road ahead, Isabella's drive took less than 30 minutes. Her mother, Maria, and aunt Luciana awaited her at home. Luciana, who had moved in from down the street when Isabella had first started her job at Mark Matthews home, met her at the door and welcomed Isabella warmly.
She finally managed to escape her mother's embrace and turned to Aunt Luciana "How has she been? hope she hasn't been giving you many headaches"
"She has been a darling," replied Luciana. "Besides, anywhere will do better than that zoo I lived in before".
"Are you hungry mija?" Her mother asked. "Luciana made her world-famous Huevos Rancheros."
"No, I am good for now mami… although I could take some later". Aunty Luciana did make the best Huevos Rancheros.
The conversation shifted to Isabella's employer, Mark Matthews. With a seemingly casual tone, her mother inquired, "How is this Mark Matthews? Does he treat you well?"
"Yes, Mum, the job is great," Isabella responded. "Mr. Matthews is a great boss," she added, subtly downplaying the closeness she felt. As she narrated aspects of her tasks and the beauty of the mansion, she chose to omit the late-night encounters, the shared kisses, and Mark's chivalry in rescuing her from the rain.
Two hours later, Isabella bid farewell to her mother, while her aunt Luciana saw her off. As she approached the Ford F-150 parked down the street, she offered a quick explanation for the truck, "Groceries shopping! He lets me use it when I shop for groceries." Aunt Luciana accepted the explanation without further inquiry.
She headed north towards the end of the street and was about to turn west towards Marietta Street when Isabella's plans took an unexpected turn. A figure dashed across the road, colliding with the truck's hood and then quickly getting back up.
Recognizing the face, she exclaimed, "Vincent?" A mix of shock and surprise adorned his face, revealing his presence to be just as unexpected.
In a swift move, Vincent leaped into the passenger seat, urgently urging, "Go-go-go." Isabella accelerated, narrowly avoiding a collision with a blue sedan descending from the East Los Angeles Interchange. Glancing in her rearview mirror, she spotted three figures emerging from the alley Vincent had just run out of.
Once a safe distance away, she asked, breathless, "What the hell was that about?"
"I'm sorry, Izzy," Vincent replied between breaths, "just some disagreements between business partners."
Seemingly unconvinced, Isabella remarked, "Seemed way more than some disagreements." Observing the tear on Vincent's shirt and his awkwardly held left shoulder, she realized it was dislocated.
Concerned, she insisted, "Vincent, I've got to get you to a hospital."
"No— No hospital," he resisted. "This is nothing… don't worry about it."
Pressing on, Isabella questioned, "Where are you going to go then?"
"You're headed to Santa Monica, right?" he suggested, "that works for me too." Having been a regular at the diner where she worked, located in Santa Monica near her college, Vincent accurately guessed her destination.
"Fine then… but you can't leave that shoulder like that," Isabella asserted.
"I know, Izzy. I know," he conceded, laying back and closing his eyes
Isabella drove in silence as Vincent appeared to doze off in the passenger seat. Questions swirled in her mind about how much she truly knew about Vincent.
Despite his generous tips at the diner, an air of mystery and danger always surrounded him, and today's events only intensified that perception. Was he dangerous? Was getting involved with him a wise decision? Not that he gave me much choice, she noted.
Isabella was getting late for her class but she focused on driving below the speed limit towards the Pacific Coast highway. It would be unwise to get pulled over by the cops with Vincent looking like that beside her.
Forty minutes later, she woke him when they reached Santa Monica, Vincent directed her to drop him off at the diner. In the parking lot, she insisted on helping him fix his dislocated shoulder, to which he agreed. When she finished, he stepped out, giving her a thankful look. "I owe you one, Izzy," he expressed as he jogged away across the parking lot.
She was already twenty minutes late for her class, and since she was parked at the restaurant, she decided to drop in and say hello while ensuring she would make it to the college in time for her next class.
The restaurant was less crowded that afternoon, with only two of the ten available tables occupied. Antonio, her old boss and the owner of the restaurant, was at the counter talking to a customer. As he spotted her, he winked. Antonio had moved to the US as a 16-year-old 30 years ago, working his way up through various restaurants along the Pacific coast. A kitchen accident had cost him a finger, but a subsequent lottery win of $250,000 helped him establish his first restaurant.
"Izzy, you look good… Malibu has been treating you kindly, it seems," he remarked after the customer left.
"What can I say, Antonio?" she teased. "I was made for the soft life." They both burst out laughing.
"It's a little dry this afternoon," she observed. "Where is everyone?"
"Well, Maria just finished her shift. She went to change and should be out soon. The girl who replaced you is taking the order for that gentleman wearing a cowboy hat, and, well… you remember Anna, right?"
"Of course… where is she?" Isabella asked.
"Well, she left a week after you. She said she met a guy who knows some top modeling company in LA and he was going to introduce her," Antonio explained, unfazed.
Isabella understood the allure and risks in the pursuit of Hollywood dreams. Every year, aspiring young women flocked to Hollywood with dreams of stardom, encountering countless promises from opportunistic individuals.
By then, Maria had returned, excited to see Isabella. She and Maria had not seen eachother since she started working at Malibu and it was obvious they both missed eachother.
Maria dragged her outside, eager to hear about Isabella's new job, but Isabella, feeling the urgency to get to her next class, apologized. "I can't say much now, Maria… I gotta get to class."
The disappointment on Maria's face was palpable. "I'm sorry, sweetheart… I'll make it up to you," she promised. An idea struck her, and she inquired about Vincent.
"The guy with the crooked nose? Not often," Maria replied. Her tone shifted to a more serious one. "There's something off about that guy, Isabella. Try to avoid him."
You don't say, thought Isabella. "What do you mean? '' she proceeded to ask.
"A while after you left, some dangerous-looking dudes came into the restaurant looking for him. When I say dangerous, I mean scary-looking guys… whatever it was, it can't be good news" said Maria.
Isabella nodded in appreciation and promised to find time to get together with Maria.
As Isabella drove toward her college, Maria's words echoed in her mind. She wondered if the dangerous-looking men Maria mentioned were the ones she had encountered while helping Vincent. Could she be in danger? What about Mark – had she inadvertently brought trouble to his doorstep?
The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully, except for occasional glances from passersby when she drove by. Isabella managed through an unexpected test in her class, and when it concluded, she found solace in the Raptor, making her way back to Malibu.
The truck, a generous gesture from Mark, proved to be a lifesaver, sparing her from the hassle of unreliable and often unpleasant bus rides. Isabella marveled at the Raptor's size and speed. It wasn't the kind of car she'd consider buying, but its convenience and power won her over.
Beyond the truck, her excitement stemmed from the improved dynamics of her relationship with Mark. The depth of his pain and hidden struggles had surprised her, debunking the public perception that he was living carefree on some private island. It was a reminder not to succumb to narrow-minded assumptions.
As she drove up the hill towards the mansion, Isabella marveled at how much had changed in her life within a short period. The gate opened, and she proceeded up the paved road toward the main building. Elizabeth's BMW was parked in front of the house. The queen is here, thought Isabella as she rounded the corner and headed towards the opening door of the garage.
Entering the mansion, Isabella found Mark and Elizabeth engaged in a quiet argument in the living room.
"Isabella," called out Elizabeth. "Glad you could make it back in time. Mark has been telling me what a great job you've been doing." She grinned widely.
Elizabeth, always formal, wore a pink suit with a white shirt and black heels. Isabella wondered if she had a life beyond her work.
"Hi, Elizabeth. Good to see you. Mark is too kind," responded Isabella.
"Mark unh?" Elizabeth answered with a suspicious look. She didn't miss the lack of formality in the name. Damn it
"I see you drove the truck," Elizabeth remarked. "The cars could use the occasional trip, but I do hope you have a driver's license."
"Sure, I do," Isabella replied. "I better go start dinner. Would you be joining us?" She didn't want to linger too long there.
"No, I was about to leave when you walked in… but do go on," Elizabeth said.
All the better thought Isabella. Isabella had lied about dinner. Downstairs in the garage awaited two large pizzas from Guillermo's Pizza Palace. Since Mark tasted it, they had spent many evenings enjoying pizza instead of a proper meal. Elizabeth would likely disapprove.
As Elizabeth prepared to leave, she hugged Mark and then turned towards Isabella. The hazel eyes now held a touch of gold and bore a scornful gaze she had never seen before. "Do take care of him," Elizabeth said with a half-smile before turning towards the foyer.
Throughout dinner, Isabella couldn't shake off that lingering look. What did it mean? Was there hatred in Elizabeth's eyes? Did she do something wrong? The uncertainty gnawed at her, leaving her anxious about what might come next. She only had to wait to find out