I will never marry.

The thought flits through my mind, an erratic little fly, buzzing about, begging for my attention. I’m tempted to let it stay, but it’s too dangerous. Too seductive. I swat it away.

“Oh, to have been born a man,” I say, though I don’t really mean it. Life is what you make of it, and I happen to like the one I’ve made for myself with Ana. That’s the thought I think I’ll let warm me as I crawl into my own bed, with nothing but a wall between us.

CHAPTER 3

Ana

Normally, when I’ve had a generous amount of wine—which I have had, thank you very much—I don’t dream. My sleep is solid and thick. Undisturbed. I like it better that way. I like it when I close my eyes with the moon in the sky and open them with the sun in its place.

But tonight is different. Tonight, dreams come to me in the form of memories. At least it’s one of my favorite memories.

The memory of the first time Kiki and I met.

The dream has that fuzzy quality all dreams do. Some details are crisp, but others are hazy around the edges, half-forgotten.

I remember the taste of the apple—stolen, of course—as I bit into it, watching the display before me, partially hidden by an alcove in one of the seedier alleys in Potosí. I had swiped the apple from a stall in the market. The man who owned it was an asshole who beat his family, so I didn’t feel any guilt about the theft. I tried to only steal from people who deserved it. Not people who were down on their luck. I knew what it felt like to go hungry. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

But the clearest detail in the dream was what Kiki looked like.

A shorter version of the young woman she was now, but no less grand for it.

Thick as a brick considering the mess she got herself into, but a pretty little thing. Glossy hair as black as tar. Skin the color of cream. And dressed like she wanted to skip through town screaming, “Steal it all! Everything must go!”

Rich girls. More money than sense, the lot of ’em.

“You lost?” The words came out around a mouthful of masticated apple.

The girl jumped at the sound of my voice. She hadn’t noticed me standing there, not five feet away from her.

Like I said, thick as a brick. She wouldn’t last long in this town. I gave her an hour, tops.

She blinked at me, visibly wrestling back her composure from wherever it had fled. “No.”

I snorted. I knew a lie when I smelled one. “You sure about that? Because you look lost.”