Page 127 of Heavy

40

Calista

10 days before the fire

Coffeeisthesaviorof any hard-working girl. I’m not entirely sure how I could function without it.

Sitting back in my chair, I look out at the busy streets of downtown Denver. Gene is running late, per usual, but I couldn’t wait for her to get ready. I get it, she washed her hair last night and it takes a while, but damn.

Her coffee is sitting across from me, thankfully iced, but it’ll be watered down by the time she gets here.

Tapping my fingers across the wooden table, I sigh and press my forehead against the cool window. My mind is elsewhere in the world, somewhere far away from here and on a beautiful beach, or in the snowcapped mountains of Switzerland.

I’ve established a life here. I own a home with my best friend, have a very good paying job, and a family that checks in on me from time to time. It’s more than I can hope for, and I’m privilegednow.

Yet, I still feel unfulfilled.

I think it’s time I start traveling, get out of the states for a little while. It isn’t like I’m struggling for cash, and I could use a break from the place I’ve been for over half my life.

Suddenly, someone sits across from me in the booth, pulling me out of my daze.

“Oh,” I say in surprise. It isn’t Genevieve. Instead, it’s a white girl with pretty light brown eyes and a high ponytail, her dark hair is long and drapes over her shoulder. “I’m sorry, this seat’s taken.”

It’s a booth, why the hell is she just plopping her ass down like she’s my friend? I’ve never in my life seen this woman.

I look around me, scanning the very empty coffee shop.

“My name is Samantha,” she says eagerly putting her hand over the table toward me. My sign is Cancer, Ihaveto take it.

“Hi…” I’m not entirely sure what is going on but after shaking her hand, I take Gene’s drink and move it to my side of the table.

“You’re Calista, right?”

I’m no one famous, shit, my neighbors can barely remember my name at times. While, sure, I’m pretty—I’m blonde, average height, and dressed like anyone else here in Colorado—I’d be a face in a crowd if I weren’t sitting alone. How does she know me?

“Yes…?”

“Wonderful, my last name is Serrano.” The name sputters my heartbeat. “I do love the way that name gets a reaction out of people. It could be a lesser family, but it still elicits that shaking fear. For you though, it’s very justified.” She’s patronizing me.

I’ve not heard from this family in nearly ten years. The moment my mom stopped doing drugs and got help, I never saw them again.

“Let’s talk about Jasmine Byrne for a second, hmm?”

“What do you want?” I ask, not really caring to talk about my mother.

“Oh, that last name justdoessomething to me. Anger, pain, revenge. It stirs so much deep down in my gut that I could kill someone. You know what I mean?”

I shake my head slowly. My hands tremble, and even when I shove them down between my thighs, the shake just catches onto my entire body.

“How ironic that your mother would marry the brother to the man that took so much from my family… It’s like fate. You can never escape it.”

“What… do you want?” I ask again, looking back around in the small café. People are going about their business, but it’s the unmistakable men that are in suits sitting around the establishment that has me swallowing roughly.

The sliding of something across the table has me turning my attention back to her. “You’re going to do something for us.” I look down at her cellphone. It’s unlocked, and the first thing I see is a photo that makes me sick.

Violently so.

I nearly lose my bagel I had just eaten.