“Ah, okay. So it’s more like your heart is a born-again virgin. Saving your heart for him. Got it,” Rafaela says jokingly, but there’s a twinge of kindness to her sarcasm. I know she understands. After all, she and Nico have been together for as long as I’ve known Rafaela. It used to make my heart ache the way Nico and Rafaela look at each other, like each of them thinks the other put the stars in the night sky. I used to think I would never have that again. That I would just have to settle for finding the little pieces of happiness in my career, my broken family, my friendships.
And all of those things are well and good on their own. But now that Bruno has come back into my world and tinted everything a rosy pink, well, I don’t know if I could stand to lose that kind of endless, all-encompassing sunshine again. Even if it means that I’ll be living on the edge of serious danger for the rest of my life. He’s worth it. That much I know for sure.
“Bueno. Guacamole is done, we got the tortilla chips and the salsa, and Ryan Gosling is waiting for us in the DVD player. Let’s get this girly night started!” Rafaela says brightly, gesturing with one hand for me to follow her into the living room while she grasps the bowl of guacamole in the other. I grab the bag of chips and the bowl of salsa and follow her to the big comfy couch.
As soon as we both settle into the couch and turn on the movie, Rafaela jumps back up. “Oh! I almost forgot the most important thing: tequila! Okay, I’ll be right back. Just gonna make two very strong tequila sunrises.”
“Should I pause it?” I call after her as she jogs back to the kitchen.
“Nah, I’ve seen this movie, like, seven billion times. Nico’s starting to think Ryan Gosling is my second boyfriend at this point,” she answers, amid the clinking of glasses. “He’s my celebrity freebie, just in case.”
I grin and turn back to the movie, trying to force myself to focus on the TV screen instead of letting my mind wander to the phone in my pocket. I distract myself with a few chips laden with guac. I try my best to focus on how cute Ryan Gosling is, how comfy the couch is, how happy I’ll be to have a cocktail in my hand with my best friend beside me. God knows I need this.
Girls’ night. We only managed to make it work tonight at the last minute, when Nico’s new employee took Raf’s shift at the bar in apology for all his missed shifts. Still, when Rafaela called to let me know she was free, my immediate reflex was to turn her down, to stay cooped up at home in my bedroom waiting for my phone to go off. I planned to sip tea and stare at my cell phone screen for as many hours as it took for Bruno to finally get back in touch with me and let me know he was okay.
My stomach churns at the thought. What if he isn’t okay? What if he’s hurt and bleeding somewhere out there in the night, silently suffering while I sit here all warm and cozy at Raf’s apartment. I bite my lip nervously and give into temptation, pulling my phone out of my pocket and lighting up the screen for the hundredth time. Still nothing. No text messages, no missed calls.
“I see you,” says Rafaela, causing me to jump a little. I look up at her with what must be a panic-stricken expression, because she instantly hands me a tequila sunrise and adds, “Geez, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something.”
I shake my head. “God, I’m sorry I’m such a mess tonight. I just can’t stop worrying.”
“Why? Just worried he’s not gonna call you or worried because he’s doing something dangerous and you don’t know if he’s okay?” she asks sagely. I take a sip of my drink, feeling the warmth spread down my body.
“Wow, how did you…?”
Rafaela rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Chica, I could tell from the second I saw that boy that he’s living some kind of crazy life. Those muscles and scars? Trust me, where I grew up, that’s a neon sign for rough stuff.”
“Okay,” I begin, staring down into the gold-and-peachy colors swirling in my glass. “So, you know how you were telling me about the dogs coming into your cousin’s vet office lately?”
“Yeah,” she says warily. “What about?”
“Well, I think Bruno is, um, looking into that.”
Raf’s eyes go big and round. “What, in like a cop kind of way?”
I shrug, giving a wishy-washy gesture. “Uh, not so much a cop. More like, well, I’m not really sure what he would consider himself, to be honest. But he’s a good guy. That much I’m sure of.”
“I could tell that, too. Immediatamente. He’s a good one,” Rafaela agreed, nodding.
“And so I haven’t heard from him since he went off to look into the dogfighting thing, and now I’m really worried that he got himself into big trouble and he’s hurt somewhere and— I just don’t know what to do,” I blurt out, heaving out a breath I’ve been subconsciously holding in my chest all evening.
Rafaela reaches out to put a hand on my shoulder, looking into my eyes meaningfully. “Chica. Finish that drink. We’re gonna go find him, okay?”
She turns off the movie, downs her tequila sunrise in a few short gulps, then snaps her fingers as she gets to her feet. “Vámonos,” she adds emphatically. So I toss back the cocktail, letting the alcohol numb my nerves just a little bit, then I hop to my feet. Rafaela tucks the guacamole away in the fridge— always keeping her priorities straight— and then the two of us head out into the night.
“Where should we check first?” she asks. I think about it for a minute.
“Well, let’s go to his apartment first. And if he’s not there— then I guess I’ll just have to go track down a dogfighting ring myself,” I tell her honestly. Rafaela links her arm with mine.
“You’re loca, you know that? But I get it. That’s your man. You gotta do what you gotta do. But you’re an idiot if you think I’m gonna let you do any of that by yourself,” she adds with a conspiratorial smile.
So we set off for Bruno’s apartment, the address of which I have entered into my phone. He lives across town from Rafaela’s place, so we take a taxi. The whole ride over, my stomach is twisting in knots, my heart hammering away like a tribal drum.
When we finally arrive, I’m surprised to see that it’s a relatively modest, well-kept apartment building. It looks far too humble and innocent to house a guy like Bruno, but I’m already learning once again that he is a man of many surprises. Rafaela and I exchange looks of nervous anticipation, and then we walk into the lobby. It’s dimly lit inside, and there’s no one around. We muddle our way through to an elevator, then take it up to the fourth floor. All the while, my mind is racing in a million directions, terrified that he’ll either not be home or, possibly even worse, he will be home but in bad shape. The thought of seeing him hurt is enough to send my thoughts into a frenzy.
We get to his door and I hesitate a moment before knocking. There’s a long silence, and then I knock again, leaning forward to try and peer through the peephole. I look at Rafaela, who shrugs.
“Maybe he isn’t home,” I whisper, feeling crushed. But I look through the peephole once more and nearly fall over with shock to see an eye looking back at me. A green eye.
Bruno’s eye.
There’s the sound of several locks clinking open and then the door opens just a fraction. Bruno’s face peers through the crack, looking confused and almost angry. My heart skips a beat.
“Serena?” he asks, his voice low and broken.
“It’s me. And— and Rafaela. She’s here, too.”