Dallas giggled some more and then sprang up to face her father.

—Dance with me, Papi?

Dallas stood on the sofa to be his height.

—Of course I‘ll dance with you.

He bowed like a gentleman, picked her up from the couch into his arms, and placed her firmly on the floor. He moved Dallas around the room faster than the rhythm of the music. And while they moved, the floor against their feet, Dallas was laughing so hard her stomach hurt and no sound was coming out of her mouth. But she wanted him to dance with her for real. To dance with her like he danced with her mother. So Dallas wiggled her way up his body, climbing him so she could look at him eye to eye and said, —For real this time.

—Very well.

And Dallas put her arms around his neck and brought her body close to his in a way so that she could smell his sweet breath, the scent of minty toothpaste. She dug her nose in his neck, feeling his heart beat against her chest.

—Okay, Dallas, when you dance with a man you must always remember that where you place your hand will suggest what kind of girl you are. Since I‘m your father, you could hold on to me around my neck. But for anyone else, you make sure you always place your left hand flat against his shoulder. Arms outstretched so he knows to keep his distance.

He pulled her away to show how much distance, making Dallas giggle with embarrassment.

—Don‘t let him put your hands on his heart. When a man does that, he‘s trying to seduce you. It‘s a trick. It‘ll make you think he really likes you, that he doesn‘t let all the girls touch his heart that way. But he does. He wants you to feel special so you‘ll fall for him. He knows that once you fall for him, and that can easily happen with one good dance, you‘ll let him touch you. You can never let any man touch you, not until you‘re old enough to get married. Never let his hand grab you low on your waist when you dance. Make him hold you loosely on your back, but nowhere near your bra. You hear me?

—Sí, Papi, I hear you.

Dallas held on to him tighter, wondering what if the men she met didn‘t dance? How would she find out their intentions? She held on to him as they moved around their crowded living room to merengue beats, shaking their hips from side to side, he digging his feet into the wooden floor, she floating on air as she danced with her father. Her beautiful father who was dark like her grandmother, with thick hair, whose lips were full and whose eyelashes curled up so long, they kissed his eyebrows.

Los Llanos

1962–1963

Every organization needs a name. Don Chan knew that much. People wouldn‘t know they belonged to something if they didn‘t have a name to call it by. And so the Invisible Ones were born. And with it, Don Chan‘s paranoia. If in the past, the people of Los Llanos innocently met around campfires to tell stories, now that Don Chan had an agenda, they had to be a lot more careful. All members of the Invisible Ones were to go by first name only, to avoid being put on any opposing parties‘ death list.