“You can’t think of any other detective? How about an actual adult? Like Carmen Sandiego,” I argue.
She smiles. “All right, all right. Carmen, it is.”
We walk toward the long wood table set up under a canopy of string lights. I must look like an absolute pauper next to Valentina. Her crimson satin dress hugs her every curve as if it was specifically designed for her body. Then again, I wouldn’t be surprised if it actually was. I remember Sofia gloating that her quinceañera dress was created especially for her by some French designer I had never heard of. Valentina probably got the same treatment since they were “besties.” My parents bought my dress from the discount section of a gaudy dress shop. Even though my mother tried to alter it, she’s no seamstress. I spent the rest of the night lifting the bust while it continuously slid down with every movement.
I feel like I’m fifteen again.
“You clean up nicely,” I whisper. “You know, from the chef’s costume.”
Valentina laughs and puts her hand on my back, pushing me slightly forward to walk around the table. A chill shoots up my spine. I hope she can’t feel my goosebumps. She continues to lead me past the servers until we’re standing in front of two chairs next to each other.
“Hey, cuz!” Maria pulls my arm and drags me down to the seat beside her. I nearly trip on my heels in the process.
“Rip my arm off, why don’t you?” I groan.
“What a coincidence you and Valentina are sitting beside each other, huh?” she whispers in my ear.
“Yeah, it is,” I say.
She moves closer to my ear.
“It’s not a coincidence,” she whispers again.
“Yeah, I know,” I retort.
“I did this,” she whispers even closer to my ear.
“Yeah, I get it, pendeja. Get your breath off me,” I say, pushing her with my shoulder.
Maria giggles as she settles back in her seat.
Voices overlap as I scan the table. This is my first time seeing everyone attending Sofia’s exclusive wedding. The top-tier people in her life, I assume. The people who weren’t invited probably have a severe case of FOMO. Something about knowing that friends of Sofia didn’t make the cut makes me feel incredibly smug. I haven’t seen her in ten years. Sure, I’m family, but it’s been a decade. Surely, she could have invited anyone else.
“So, how about we break down everyone that’s here?” Valentina says to me while the appetizers arrive.
“Okay, that’s a great idea.” I take a bite of the soft bread a waiter brought in a basket with garlic butter.
“All right, so we have the obvious, of course. Your aunt and Sofia’s mom, Rosita. She was siblings with Mariposa and friends with Roberto. Could be a suspect.”
I shrug. “Possibly, but doubtful. She hated drama, from what I remember.”
“Next to her, we have Abuelita. An innocent old lady or a conniving menace to society? Also Roberto’s mother.”
“Excuse me,” I yelp. “Abuelita is an angel.”
“You’re right.” Valentina chuckles.
“Okay, next to her, we have my Tía Maritza and her daughter, Silvana,” I add.
“Also my ex,” Valentina mumbles quietly.
“Wait, what?” I glance over at Silvana, who just happens to be looking directly at me, almost as if she could hear our entire conversation clear as day. There’s no way—there are too many people talking at once. It sounds like a high school cafeteria out here.
“Yeah, let’s not get into that one.” She sips her wine. “Next to her, we’ve got your cousins and Sofia’s bridesmaids, Yolanda and Araceli. Doubtful they’re suspects, but we can’t rule anyone out.”
“Fair,” I play along. “You can never be too sure.”
We lean over subtly to check out the other side of the table.
