Chapter 3

Mía

The first thing I do as soon as I get to Syracuse is find a place to sleep. Starting from scratch is not easy, but it is much more difficult to return from the place where my father wanted to send me.

I find a small hostel, a bit ramshackle and with peeling walls, but since it is supposed to keep a low profile, the place seems perfect to me. I have to look for a job, although before that the best thing would be to find someone who could falsify all my documents, since I am dead with my official name.

A fat man with a white tank top full of stains that I don't even want to think about, looks at me with a frown on his forehead.

- Name - There is not a trace of emotion in his voice.

- Hi, I would like to rent a room. My name is Lola.

Raise your eyebrows assuming I'm lying. If it is so easy for you to know, it is because a lot of liars have to pass through here every day.

- My mother is Spanish - I try to justify - hence my name.

The man writes in the ticket book.

- You don't have to give me an explanation, sweetie.

He throws a key on the table and places his palm face up, waiting for something. I hesitate for a fraction of a second, but when the man doesn't react, I take out a few bills and lay them on top of his hand.

- Well ... Well ... Thank you very much - I say taking the key and going up the stairs.

I open the door. The first thing I notice is the strong musty smell coming from inside. I have to cover my nose to avoid gagging. I've never been scrupulous. When I did my nursing internship, I got jobs that nobody wanted; cleaning infected wounds and things like that, I don't care, but this room is the grossest thing I've ever seen.

I have to bite the bullet and go inside. I find myself with a dantesque spectacle, I pass my hand over my eyes closing them for a moment. What kind of animal has rooms like this? Everything is full of dampness, dust is everywhere in the corners and the bedspread has so many old stains that I do not recognize its original color.

Days go by and I am more and more discouraged. Did Marcus have everything ready? The laughs, the jokes, the romantic movie nights, the sex ... All fake? Every now and then millions of questions cross my mind like little rays. I was oblivious to everything, I was not part of my family's mob and even so, I have been the target of Marcus, I guess it was because I was the stupidest.

My father, who gave me so much love, planned my death without hesitation, without a tear. That is the truth of my family, where they should have their hearts, they have nothing, it is simply empty ... And my brother ... I don't even want to think about him. I have to stop feeling sorry for myself because the only thing it does is to sink me deeper.

A month and a half later my life is more or less on track. Before I left the hostel I got the guy to put me in contact with another guy who forged papers. I have come to the conclusion that to be a counterfeiter or friend of them they have to have a closet full of white shirts full of shit, because otherwise, I do not understand that the two dressed in the same sloppy and dirty way.

Well, after calling myself Lola Ramírez, I moved to a small studio, I enrolled in self-defense classes, because I know that I have been innocent, too much, but I learn quickly and I know that you cannot escape from the mafia, at least not for Always, if I learn to defend myself, maybe I will have a chance if I need to escape again. I also got a job, it is not a nurse, which is what I studied, but for now it will help me to have an income and not finish spending what I managed to get out of the safe.

I get to the bar where I work as a waitress. Every night I have to deal with countless perverts, but with a bit of a heavy hand they give up fast.

- Good night Lola, how are you? - asks Meg, my partner.

- Good, good, prepared for what awaits us - I joke passing my hand over my forehead.

He smiles and goes on his way to change clothes. We take off our normal pants and t-shirts that we wear every day and do not wear a black sequined shirt tied around the neck, under the chest it makes small waves leaving the navel exposed, a black miniskirt and red heels. Thus, we hint to the men who come to our bar and drink a lot that they can go with one of us. It's humiliating, I know. Sexy chunks of meat, but the pay is really good and that's all that matters.

As the night progresses the bar fills up. It's hard to waddle around with a tray of drinks in hand and wearing four-inch heels on top.

A hand on the small of my back catches my attention, once again.

- Gentleman, do you need anything? - I ask kindly.

- To you - he says it like it's super original. I hear that phrase more than ten times every night.

I smile tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.

- A drink maybe? - His kind face disappears.

- You are deaf? - He says getting too close and shackling his fingers around my arm.

A young, well-dressed man. His first appearance is deceptive. Now all my alarms scream DANGER in bright red.

- No sir, I don't have any hearing problems - I say with the sweetest voice that I can simulate - But I only serve drinks, I'm a waitress.

- You will be what I say you are - pull me away from the bar.

His intention is to get me out and that is something I cannot allow. Before I put my self-defense skills to the test, a hand slams his head against the bar. The blow threw several glasses, but that did not daunt the man who came to help me, he lifted his head and hit it even harder.

His fingers have caught my attention, his tattoos begin on them and progress along his arm, I know where they end without having to see it, and worse still, I know who they belong to. I can't believe he found me.

I pluck up the courage to look up into his eyes. Marcus looks at me in surprise. Before I react I jump the bar and run towards the rear exit. I have to escape, but now he knows I'm not dead. If it reaches me, it is my end.