Thirteen
You're Too Sweet For Me

Gia ripped paper towels from the dispenser in the bathroom and shoved them at Jenna. Eloisa was sitting in a chair, her head tilted toward the ceiling as Jenna swapped out new towels for the old. She threw the old ones into the river of bloody paper that formed a moat around them. Eloisa avoided looking at it as much as possible.

"I think it's starting to slow down," Eloisa said, her tone cheery despite the huge gash above her eyebrow. Jenna patted her shoulder.

"Sure, babe," Gia agreed doubtingly as she inspected it. "But I think you're gonna need stitches."

"Are you sure?" she asked. She moved to poke at it until Jenna swatted her hand away. "I really think it's starting to feel better?"

It was true. The explosive pain had downgraded to a low throb. It still hurt, but like it was in her periphery, no longer in full view, and not nearly as bad as it should have.

None of them appeared surprised by Nacho's presence, his boots on the tile having given him away.

Nacho crossed his arms in front of his chest. "What happened?"

For a moment the three women stared at each other and then burst into laughter.

"Sorry," Eloisa said, carefully wiping her eyes. "It's not funny. It's not. It's really really not."

She was overcome by another fit of giggles that sounded like they were dangerously close to tears.

"You should have seen her!" Gia exclaimed when she calmed down enough to speak. "We got robbed, right? Nat, Maya, and I are just hanging out after work when these two guys come in, with guns-"

"Hey, where did Dominic go?" Jenna cut in. Eloisa had been wondering the same thing.

"He saw the guns and took off. Coward. So, they keep saying 'Give us the money', 'give us the drugs' so I do because they've got a fucking gun on me-"

"Where were you?" Nacho interrupted, directing his question at Eloisa.

"In the back with Jenna."

Gia glared at him, unappreciative of his disruption, and returned to her story. "Anyway, I give it to them and then this crazy chick throws her phone at Jenna and goes chasing off after them."

Nacho's eyebrows furrowed. "You did what?"

"Well… we couldn't call the cops," Eloisa said sheepishly. "And Matty wasn't answering his phone. It wasn't a real gun anyway."

"What?" Gia protested. "Yes, it was."

Eloisa shook her head. "It was an airsoft gun."

"Seemed real to me," she grumbled.

"They must have missed a spot when they spray-painted or whatever because there was still a little orange on the tip. I caught up to them and we argued a little." She paused. "Okay, well, I yelled a lot." She nodded at the tip jar and a pile of crumpled bills on the chair next to her. "But, hey—" she made jazz hands— "I got the money back."

"That doesn't explain how this happened." He waved a hand around his eyebrow.

"Yeah, so, when I ran them down, they didn't want to talk to me. One of them tried to bolt and I, uh, tackled him and he headbutted me. It's fine," she added at the unimpressed expression on Nacho's face. "It barely even hurts anymore."

He mumbled something she didn't catch, crouched down next to her, and stared into her eyes. She stared back, tilting her head and smiling a little.

"Did you take something?" he asked, squinting at her.

"I gave her an Oxy," Jenna said quickly.

Eloisa's head swiveled; eyes going wide like a deer in the headlights. "You told me it was ibuprofen!"

"Does your face hurt anymore?" Jenna shrugged. "No. You're welcome."

"Tienes que estar bromeando," Nacho mumbled as pinched the bridge of his nose.

Eloisa exhaled a string of profanities under her breath.

Jenna rolled her eyes at their dramatics and with a hand on her hip asked, "Are you going to take her to the hospital or what?"

Eloisa shook her head again, this time like a stubborn two-year-old. "No hospital."

"What? Why?!"

Nacho opened his mouth, but Gia beat him to it.

"Let's see," she began in a know-it-all voice, ticking the reasons off on her fingers. "Busted eyebrow, doped up on something that she doesn't have a prescription for, and, if Nacho drives, they'll assume she's being brought in by her boyfriend. They're going to flag that so fast…"

Jenna blinked. "What?"

"It means they're going to think I did it," Nacho replied.

"Fine, then, I'll take her."

"If you take her," Gia shot back, "They're still going to ask why she's messed up like this."

"Even if we could come up with a good excuse," Eloisa chirped, "no one is going to believe anything we say."

"Worst case, they call the cops. You're right," he admitted. "No hospital. You good, Jenna?" She nodded. "Gia?" She nodded. "Go home."

Natalie and Maya had already left, both badly shaken up by what had happened. The two went to the back to collect their things. Gia offered to take the money back to the lounge to be sorted the next day. Nacho offered his hand to Eloisa who accepted and hopped up onto unsteady feet. She teetered backward on her heel and compensated by holding Nacho's arm and propelling herself forward.

"Estas loca," he said as he steadied her, but it wasn't warm or teasing. "What were you thinking?"

She hadn't been. Not really. But if she said that, he was only going to give her a harder time. Besides, thoughts were becoming hard to follow.

"They took the money," she blurted.

"So?"

"So?" she repeated, her tone a little resentful. "We split these tips. Did you know that Natalie has a kid at home? Did you know that Gia's trying to go back to school?" When he didn't reply, she gave a satisfied snort. "I didn't think so."

That money mattered to people. It certainly mattered to her. In no world would Matty have reimbursed them either. He would have chalked it up to a loss and left it at that.

Nacho was mad, she could tell by the set of his jaw, but all he said was, "Next time just let them take it."

"But I got it back." If she had been in the right frame of mind, it wouldn't have come out as a whine, but she wasn't, and it did. She realized she had been expecting him to praise her.

He took her out to the van, both of them lightly pelted with the rain that had finally dwindled to a drizzle. Eloisa let him help her into the seat where she began fighting with the seatbelt when Jenna ran up to them.

"Here, Lou, you forgot your bag."

She passed it over.

Eloisa took it and hugged it to her chest. "Thanks, Jen."

"Of course." She turned to Nacho. "Hey, got a sec?"

"Yeah." He gave Eloisa a pointed look. "Get that on. And stay."

"I'm not a dog," she snapped, rolling her eyes.

To prove her point, she made a show of buckling it only to have the door slammed unceremoniously in her face. She dug in her bag and took out the flannel balled up on one side, wrestling it on while she watched Nacho and Jenna.

She couldn't make out what they were saying, but she saw Jenna produce a wad of cash out from her shirt and hand it over. Nacho took it and tucked it away before handing Jenna a clear plastic bag with little green pills at the bottom. She looked away, pretending to be invested in going through her bag so that when Nacho got in it didn't look like she'd been spying.

"Did you see anything?" he asked as he pulled into the street.

"Huh?" she replied, unsure if he meant the exchange she had just witnessed.

"When you went after those guys earlier?"

She pretended to think, but really, she was hesitating. She hadn't seen much, in truth. They had parked away from the club, close to one of the hotels, and were still wearing their masks. She had grabbed the shorter one, to pull him back from climbing in, and had caught a glimpse of a huge, badly drawn dragon tattoo on his neck. There had been a lot of yelling, the two of them had wrestled for a few minutes, which is when he'd thrown down the money, and then headbutted her to get away. He hadn't bothered picking anything up, opting for getting the hell out of there. But she didn't see how that would be helpful. She assumed they were junkies- they'd never been in the club before because she would have recognized that ugly tattoo.

"No."

She leaned her head against the window, the glass felt nice against her warm forehead. They drove for a while or maybe not long at all. She couldn't tell because everything seemed to be moving slowly, as though the whole world were encased in an invisible pool of honey. She watched the city pass by them trying to get the idea out of her head. Her eyes felt so heavy, maybe if she just closed them for a bit…

Nacho reached over to gently shake her arm. "We're almost there."

She wasn't aware she had dozed off, but his words and the motion startled her awake. She stifled a yawn and looked outside.

"Where are we going?"

"There's this guy- he's a doctor, a vet. He's done some stuff for us before. Stitches shouldn't be a problem." She stared at him, round eyes wide and almost golden in the streetlights. He sighed. "What?"

"It's just… I can't believe I'm saying this, but you know I'm a person, right? Like a human person?"

He pulled into the parking lot and killed the engine. "When we get in there, I do the talking. ¿Comprendes?"

To prove that she did, she nodded obediently.

Doctor Caldera looked nothing like she imagined, she thought as she studied the plaques hanging in the room. Instead of the gray-haired, Clint Eastwood type she pictured, he was a nerdy-looking middle-aged white guy. At least his medical degrees looked real.

She glanced toward the doorway to where he and Nacho conversed in low voices. She had given up on trying to hear what they were saying, but they seemed to know each other fairly well. Well, enough, at least, that Caldera didn't seem surprised by the situation. As she shifted, the paper sheet she was sitting on crinkled loudly beneath her and drew the attention of both men. She lifted a hand to give an awkward wave.

"Lou, right?" Caldera asked as he turned to the sink and began washing his hands.

"That's me."

He put on a pair of gloves, and moved in front of her, so close that she could tell he needed a shave and that he had, thankfully, brushed his teeth before meeting them. He gently poked and prodded the gash above her eyebrow, but all she felt was numb, disconnected from the pain.

"It'll need stitches. How are you holding up?"

In the back of her mind, she knew this information should have been alarming, but she brushed it off. That was future Eloisa's problem. She gave him two enthusiastic thumbs up and he glanced back at Nacho who shrugged as if to say I told you.

"Okay, let me get set up and we'll get started."

Instead of bolting out of the room, like she wanted to, she turned her thumbs up into finger guns. "Do what you gotta do, Doc."

"Great. What did you take, if you don't mind me asking?"

A stalling tactic. Her eyes followed him as he tore open a syringe.

"Oxy. I hate it. It makes me feel stupid." And sleepy, she thought, her eyelids heavy again as she stared at the office door.

"No, hey, wake up." He snapped his fingers in her face and then turned to Nacho. "You wanna help out here, man?"

Nacho crouched down to meet her eye while Caldera worked behind him. She was struck, as she always was, by how handsome he was when he wasn't trying to be intimidating. It was almost worth dealing with it for the way he was looking at her now. His eyes were such a pretty shade of brown, almost cinnamon.

The clattering of metal brought her back from the dangerous precipice of her thoughts. Her palms grew sweaty. She picked at the skin around her thumb with her pointer finger. The last time she'd been in a hospital room like this had been for her knee surgery.

He placed his hand on top of hers, calming her. "What's up?"

"I hate blood," she confessed. She hadn't meant to, but it was hard to stop herself from babbling. "It makes me sick. And needles. Honestly, anything to do with hospitals in general."

Both eyebrows went up. "That's funny. I didn't think you were scared of anything."

"It's not funny," she insisted. "When I had my knee surgery, the nurse who did my IV was a total witch. She poked me, like, fifty times…" She trailed off, eyebrows knitting in concern as she watched Caldera thread a needle.

"¿Qué pasa con tu tatuaje?" he asked quietly.

It took her brain a second to translate, but when it did, she wriggled uncomfortably, her face warm. Sometimes even she forgot about the colorful little Zia symbol on her hip. It was the only tattoo she had, one that she had gotten on a whim with Starr and Ben senior year, and it had been a nightmare to hide from her grandmother and parents.

"That's different."

"How is that different?"

"It… just is," she answered lamely.

Caldera pushed the tray over to the other side. "Okay, this should only take a minute. I'll just give you a little shot to numb it up…"

The rest of the explanation fell on deaf ears. The color drained from her face as he approached with the syringe. There was a roaring in her ears, the sounds in the room becoming more distant.

Nacho flipped her hand over and laced his fingers with hers, forcing her attention back onto him with a gentle squeeze. He was still crouched down beside her, but to one side so he was out of the doctor's way.

"A mí tampoco me gustan los hospitales."

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Caldera giving Nacho a grateful look.

"Oh yeah? ¿Por qué?"

"Pasé demasiado tiempo allí en la escuela secundaria. Mi mamá estaba enferma."

She was about to offer her apologies and probably ask something wildly inappropriate, that past tense had not escaped her notice, when she felt the needle pierce her skin. It didn't hurt, nor did the stitches, but the sensation of the tugging on her skin was uncomfortable enough to make her close her eyes. She gave Nacho's hand a hard squeeze and they stayed that way until Caldera declared his work was done.

"Keep it clean, don't use hydrogen peroxide or alcohol- common mistake, but it will make this process a lot slower. Those stitches should come out in a couple of days, just call this number," Caldera reached into his coat pocket and produced a business card. "And we'll get it squared away."

Eloisa reluctantly released her grip on Nacho's hand to take the card before tucking it into the pocket of her jeans. "So, do I pay you now, like in cash, or…?"

"Oh, uh," Caldera looked mildly embarrassed, giving himself away with a quick glance at Nacho. "It's already been taken care of."

Eloisa pressed her lips together and nodded sagely. "Got it. I guess I'll see you in a couple days then. Thank you."

It took every ounce of self-control to wait until they were back in the van before she brought it up.

"You didn't have to do that," she said softly.

"Trust me, you couldn't have afforded him."

"Fine. Add it to my tab," she said affecting a posh voice that actually got a chuckle out of him.

"Your tab," he repeated shaking his head.

They both leaned back in their seats.

"Do you want me to take you back to your car?" he asked after a while.

"You think I can drive like this? That's so cute. I can get my car tomorrow if you just take me home. Please?"

It would have been a nice, uneventful ride home if the weight of the whole night hadn't hit Eloisa like a brick. She had been fine, great even, as she hummed quietly along with the song on the radio. But then her chest felt tight, and a lump formed in her throat. She knew what was coming and forced herself to breathe deeply but silently, trying desperately to keep herself together for the next five minutes. It was like a mantra - hold on for five more minutes.

All it took was Nacho, concern etched on his face as he turned toward her, to ask what was wrong before she burst into tears.

He pulled the van into an empty parking lot along a bosque walking path – she recognized it because it was close to Tingley Beach and not far from her house.

Embarrassed that he stopped, she turned away and stared out the window, furiously trying to wipe her tears away. Nacho seemed to understand that the best move was to give her space, or maybe her crying made him uncomfortable, but he got out of the van.

Once she was alone, Eloisa let it all out – the fear, the anxiety, every bad feeling she'd had that night. When she finally tapered off to sniffles, she felt better and incredibly tired. After a glance in the sun visor mirror and a quick wipe under her eyes with her flannel sleeve, she thought she looked, and felt, okay enough to join Nacho outside.

The rain had finally stopped leaving a cool night in its wake. It felt good on her face. She lit the cigarette she'd found in her bag and took a long drag before offering it to Nacho.

"Have you ever been fishing over here?" she asked, leaning her back against the hood.

Nacho laughed, exhaling a plume of smoke as he did. It was another genuine laugh that made her smile. He passed the cigarette back to her.

"No, I haven't."

"Lucky you. It was practically a rite of passage when I was a kid." She sniffled. "Hey, I'm sorry about your mom." She hadn't meant to just blurt it out, but her brain and mouth were still having a hard time connecting.

He shrugged. "It was a long time ago."

Eloisa didn't think it was as long or far away as he made it out to be. Or maybe it was. Maybe he'd built a wall high enough that it didn't touch him anymore. Likely, though, that was wishful thinking on her part because her own grief and sadness still clung on so tight. They passed the cigarette back and forth until it was cashed and Nacho threw it on the ground, killing the last of the embers with his boot.

"You good?"

"Yeah, I think so. Thanks, by the way."

"For what?"

She clicked her tongue. "I don't know… for being nice to me or whatever?"

"You want me to be an asshole instead? Then I'd have to listen to you complain about that too," he teased.

Maybe it was that the vibe between them had shifted so much in the last few weeks, or sharing the cigarette reminded her so much of that first night they'd met. Whatever the reason, Eloisa turned around and faced him. It was like someone else had taken over her body as she took a step forward, confident although Nacho remained frozen. Then she stood on tiptoe and gently pressed her lips against his. He kept his arms at his sides, fists clenching like it was taking all of his willpower not to touch her. But he didn't stop her, and she felt the slightest bit of give on his part. When she pulled away, his eyes were closed.

"Come on, Lou," he said softly. "You don't wanna do this."

"Yes," she whispered recklessly. "I do."

He opened his eyes and sighed. "You're high."

"Maybe. But you're going to tell me that it's not killing you too?" she whispered. "That you don't think about what things might have been like if this hadn't-"

He placed both hands on her shoulders, guiding her backward until she was at arm's length.

"No, I don't. You know why? Because that was one night, and it doesn't change anything."

The weight of her naivety came crashing down on her. Her face grew hot as she sputtered, "You're right. It doesn't. I just thought-"

He shook his head angrily, cutting her off before she could finish whatever half-formed thought she was about to spew in her defense.

"Whatever you thought, get it out of your head. Because this-" he moved a finger back and forth between them- "isn't a thing. The sooner you realize that the better."

"Fine. I hear you. Loud and clear." She shrugged him off, her voice icy. She turned away, looking out over the shadowy silhouettes of trees swaying with the wind. "You know, my house isn't that far. I'll just walk home."

"Really?" he scoffed. "That's how it's gonna be, huh?"

"Yeah," she replied, refusing to look at him as fresh tears welled in her eyes. "That's how it's gonna be."

He ran a hand over his face. "Don't be stupid, just get in the van."

In her heart, Eloisa knew he was right: she was being stupid. But trying to combat the lingering effects of the Oxy, embarrassment, and her hurt feelings was too much of an uphill battle that she was never going to win. She just wanted him out of her sight so she could feel bad in peace. Even five more minutes together would have been too much.

"No, I got it. Okay? Just go. Leave me alone and go."

There was no final declaration, no last word. He simply got in the van, held her bag out the window, and took off when she grabbed it. As the headlights disappeared down the street, she started to cry again. How? How, when everything was going so well, had she fucked everything up so badly? She fished her phone out of the bag and with a heavy, watery sigh flipped it open to call Nate.