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“Are you well, Sheriff?” Orquídea had asked, glancing back at him. She waited for his reaction, but he wasn’t sure what it was he should say. He realized that he was still standing in front of the altar, and his cheeks were wet. His pulse was a frantic thing at his throat and wrists. He pressed his lips together and did his best impression of politeness. “I’m peachy.” He wasn’t sure if he was, but he shook the emotion out of himself.
God, I love the writing already
“So, while I was in town,” Rey said, “I discovered that the girl who tormented you in elementary school is now on her third child and her baby daddy just got picked up for indecent exposure at the mall two towns over.” “Is that supposed to make me happy?” Marimar asked, towing away a charred piece of bone. Upon closer inspection, it was the roasted pig. “Well, the two beefcakes I picked out for you aren’t helping. We have alcohol, an empty valley, and I’m pretty sure one of them is gay, so we could find out which.”
Take Eddie. Eddie was the kind of rich that came with a Connecticut and a Hamptons vacation house. Fuck-you money that had paid for art school and years in Eastern Europe, where he went to find himself even though he hadn’t been lost in the first place. He’d stumbled into being an art teacher because he liked colors and judging other people, mostly. Eddie’s whole life, when he recounted it to Rey, felt like a fever dream. The kind he’d only ever seen in Baz Luhrmann movies. What was Eddie’s cost other than a beautiful young lover he could put on display and then take home and fuck?
Rey didn’t like thinking that way, but one day, that carousel of thoughts set in and never stopped.
When she’d met Orquídea Montoya, she saw a whisper of a girl who wanted to become a scream.
