Page 6 of Two For One

“Amen.”

We talked together.

My grandmother practiced witchcraft called Brujeria. Her Catholic faith intertwined with her magical and Indigenous beliefs. She used to be a healer in her small town and when she came to America, she was the woman you would come to as a scorned lover or when you needed a limpia— a cleansing—to get rid of bad luck or remove bad energy.

Most of my knowledge came from her, but as I grew up in America, I learned different things that I incorporated into my practice. I was never a religious person and the longer I’ve been on this earth, the more I believe religion has been used as a form of manipulation, but that’s a debate for another day.

“How is business going?” she asked, after her first sip of coffee.

“Good, it’s been growing steadily and when September comes around, I’m hoping to have another big flow of subscribers or more sales in spells,” I said, sipping my coffee. “Halloween always brings more people to my page.”

She nodded. “Be careful. You need a cactus by your door to make sure nothing bad follows you home.”

“I do. It’s hanging behind the door. I cleanse my home at least once a week and I have protection spells,” I said before she could ask.

She nodded. “Just be careful, mija.”

“Always, Abuela,” I said, grabbing her hand.

“Still working at that sex place?” she asked, and I laughed.

“It’s a strip club, Abuela.” I corrected her for the hundredth time, but it would always be the sex place to her.

We talked about how she and my abuelo were doing. He had been diagnosed with Alzheimer's a few years ago, declining quickly, and I had to put them in a home together. He needed twenty-four-hour care and my abuela didn’t want to leave him, even if he didn’t remember her half the time. Her love for him was admirable. It made me want a love like that, but dating these days was dismal.

When it was time to leave, she gave me a bendición, “Que Dios te bendiga.”

May god bless you.

She made a sign of the cross on my forehead over my mouth and one on each shoulder. Like I said, I don’t believe in it, but her blessing always felt integral in my life, so I let her do what she needed to do.

The club wasn’t as busy as it usually was on a Sunday. The place felt off the moment I walked in and said hello to the girls. I had swapped days with a girl who needed the night off, so here I was doing a late shift. They made me the most money, but I hated how off my days were.

Tonight, I was supposed to be making better money than my afternoon shifts, except there were only a few patrons scattered around, and I was afraid I might get cut. At midnight, a few more people came in and two men sat in my section towards the back booth that were meant for privacy. My interest piqued when Mason told me to take drinks to their table because they had ordered before they sat down.

Balancing the tray in my hand, I walked over, kind of hating this part of the club because it was so dimly lit. It was a hazard that was constantly brought up, but it gave whoever sat here a little anonymity.

“Hey, I've got your drinks,” I said, placing the tray down, noticing one of them with a cap and a hood pulled over.

The other man was dressed in an all-black suit, leaning back so I could only see his light hair and baby blue eyes.

“Thank you,” he said with a slight accent, throwing me a hundred dollars. “Keep his drink full.”

“You got it, would you like for me⁠—”

“No,” he said, not letting me finish. “No girls, just drinks.”

“Ok,” I said, grabbing my tray as I saw the hooded one do something with his hands.

“Wait,” the man in the suit said. “Name.”

It wasn’t a question, but a demand.

“Xiomara,” I said, trying to see the man in the hood. “Or you can call me Zo.”

He nodded while studying me and I walked away feeling exposed.

A few more tables filled up during the next hour as I kept a close watch of my table. The man in the suit left towards the black rooms, along with two other men. I kept the hooded man's drink full while he sat alone, never looking at the girls on stage or looking at a phone. He was alert, watching the entire floor. Another hour went by and this man had only finished two drinks and nursed the last one for forty-five minutes.