Page 59 of The Wilder Widows

“We did it, boys,” I whispered as I reached up and squeezed the tags around my neck. “We did it.”

“We did it!” Alice screamed, mirroring my sentiments and shaking me from my visions. I glanced back to where I’d last envisioned the boys, but they were gone. Our pact fulfilled.

I smiled and drove my scooter to the edge of the arena. The widows pulled up beside me, and those same smiles I’d pictured on my boys were now stretched across their faces instead.

“That was amazing! What a rush!” Sylvie hopped off her scooter and jumped up and down.

“It was.” I smiled and looked back at the arena one last time. But this time, instead of the boys waving at me, I saw a black bull charging our way.

“Incoming!” I shouted. “Over the fence! Over the fence!”

With mirroring screams, we launched over the fence surrounding the arena. The bull slammed into the wall just as we cleared the other side. We landed in a pile, our shaky bodies collapsing in a heap.

Puffing hard, I tried to catch my breath, but the weight of their bodies pressing down on me made it impossible to expand my ribcage. “Can’t. Breathe.” I managed to sputter out.

“Oops! Sorry.” Doris climbed off me while the other girls rolled off to their sides. One by one, we stood up, Sylvie grabbing my hand and pulling me back to my feet.

“That was close!” she said while wiping the dirt off my backside.

Together we peered over the wall separating us from the bulls and the crowd still racing around the arena in front of them. There was no doubt in my mind Manz, Stilts, and Percy would have still been in there, laughing while they dodged each charge and going back around for more.

“Does it feel good?” Alice asked.

With a soft smile, I nodded. “Better than you can imagine. And they were right here with me.” I tapped the dog tags under my shirt. “And even more importantly, you girls were right here with me.”

They all smiled down at me, and I realized for the second time in my life, I had ‘people.’ Percy, Manz, and Stilts had been my first true friends. And now, in this second act of my life, I had three more—my Wilder Widows.

“So, what happens now? Do we need to get the scooters back?” Doris asked, peering down at our scooters that had been tipped over when the bull slammed into them.

“Screw the scooters. Just leave ‘em.” I shook my head. “They’ll find ‘em eventually. I got insurance.”

“Are we sticking around for the bullfights?” Alice asked.

“Bullfights?” Doris furrowed her brow. “What bullfights?”

“The running of the bulls is the tradition to get the fighting bulls to the arena. Later, the matadors will fight them.”

Doris’s eyes grew wide. “What happens to the bulls when they fight them?”

“What do you think happens?” Alice snorted.

“They kill them?” Doris shrieked.

“It’s their culture and tradition, Doris.” I placed a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t have a taste for it either, but they say even though it looks brutal, the bulls live much better lives than any other cow, and the fight is over fast.”

Tears bubbled in her eyes, overflowing and slipping down her cheeks.

“I don’t want to see this part, either.” Sylvie shook her head. “I know this is part of their culture and that they even feed the meat to the poor, but I can’t watch it.”

“But El Diablo!” Doris wailed. “He saved me!”

“It’s okay, Doris,” I said, pulling her in for a hug. “They say it is the greatest honor for them to go out fighting. El Diablo was bred for this. His destiny.”

“No!” She pulled back. “They can’t kill him. They can’t! He’s... my friend.”

“Your friend?” I arched a brow.

“Yes. My friend. You all saw it. He saved me.” With a quivering chin, she wiped more tears streaming down her cheeks.