“You didn’t give her the contract?”

Shizuka shook her head. “Katrina should trade her soul for something more meaningful than room, board, and violin lessons.”

“Miss Satomi, Katrina is a very nice girl.”

“Yes. Why are you bringing that up now?”

Astrid usually would never second-guess her employer. But Miss Satomi’s behavior had been puzzling.

“Miss Satomi, hasn’t this student, the very one whom you have chosen, essentially agreed to the terms? I would not want you to give up your music for—”

Shizuka put her violin down. First Tremon, now Astrid. Did they not know how much her music meant to her?

“Do you think I would endanger my own music for a student?”

“N-no. Miss Satomi, of course not. I—”

“I’ll know when it’s time, Astrid. Once that happens, I will deliver her without fail. Understood?”

“Y-yes, Miss Satomi.”

Shizuka slowed her breathing and refocused. Astrid was not Tremon. Besides, it was never good to show frustration.

“Thank you, Astrid. I know you only mean well. Good night.”

“Yes, Miss Satomi. Good night.”

18

Matía & Sons

Lucy Matía had walked under that sign every spring break, every summer vacation, and even after school.

And every day, in the workshop was Catalin Matía’s portrait.

If only he hadn’t said this was not a job for girls. If only her brother and cousins had been interested. If only she had been a son.

If only … If only …

Lucy took out a broom. Since Shizuka and her student had gone, the magic had already begun to fade. Soon, Mr. Zacatecas would be back, his carcass of a violin doused with another careless beer.

She sighed and began to sweep.

Even in the morning this place was gathering dust.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang.

“Mom?”

“Andrew? We’re a little early for lunch. Did you want to get breakfast?”

“No,” he said nervously. “I wanted to show you this.”

Lucy stopped sweeping.

“A violin?”

“It’s a P20+. I bought it off of eBay. I was wondering … could I try working on this after school? And, if you’re not busy, can you teach me?”

“I’m not your grandfather,” she finally said.

“Grandpa yelled a lot. And he hit things.”

“Yes, he did.”

Andrew nodded. Lucy put her broom down, wiped her eyes, then stretched out her hands.

“O-kay. Let’s see what we have to work with.”

As they examined the violin, Andrew Matía thought of all the times he had heard of “the hands of the Matías.”

And how only now did he think he might want to possess them, as well.

The girl smelled like baby powder and liked apple fritters. Her name was Arlene Herrera, and instead of using the drive-through, she always came inside.

Of course the body Markus Tran was in would blush every time.

Of course Arlene Herrera would have a boyfriend. And, of course that boyfriend would be an asshole.