Mother Chameleon

The dining room smelled like coffee and expensive toast. The kind that probably cost more than Inés made in a whole night at the club.

Carmen's voice filled the space like always. Loud. Fake cheerful. Talking about nothing important.

"And then I told the gardener that the roses simply must be pink, not red. Red is so last season, don't you think, Santiago?"

Miguel sat across from his father, staring at a business magazine like it was the most interesting thing in the world. He wasn't reading it. Inés could tell. He was just using it to ignore her mother, Carmen.

Santiago sat at the head of the table looking tired and old. His skin was gray. His hands shook slightly as he lifted his coffee cup. He'd been sick for months now. Some heart condition that the doctors said was serious.

Carmen kept talking.

Inés stood in the doorway, her heart pounding.

She'd barely slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Miguel's face. Felt his hands on her waist. Heard his voice saying "You remind me of someone."

Now she had to sit at the same table and pretend nothing happened.

She pulled her oversized sweater tighter around herself. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a messy bun. No makeup. No red wig. No mask. Her eyes are back to their natural blue. Just plain, boring Inés that nobody looked at twice.

Except when she stepped into the room, she looked at Miguel first.

He was a mess this morning. His dark hair stuck up in different directions like he'd been running his hands through it. His white shirt was half-buttoned and wrinkled. He looked like he hadn't slept either.

But he didn't look up when she walked in.

Inés moved quickly to the far end of the table. As far from Miguel as possible. She slid into the chair quietly and reached for the orange juice.

Carmen finally stopped talking about roses and noticed her.

"Well, look who decided to join us." Her mother's voice was sharp. "Do you know what time it is? Don't you have classes today?"

"I was up late studying," Inés said quietly. "I'm tired. I thought I'd skip today."

Carmen's perfectly painted face twisted into a frown. "Skip? You should be grateful for this new life. Do you know how many girls would kill to attend a college like yours? One of the best in the state. And you want to skip?"

"I didn't ask for this life." The words came out before Inés could stop them.

The table went quiet.

Miguel's eyes flicked up from his magazine. Just for a second.

"Excuse me?" Carmen's voice dropped low and dangerous.

"I said I didn't ask for this." Inés kept her eyes on her plate. "I'm doing my best. I just need some space. Maybe you should get off my back and focus on your husband."

Carmen's chair scraped against the floor as she half-stood. She pointed one perfectly manicured finger at Inés. "You watch how you speak to me, young lady. I am still your mother..."

"Carmen." Santiago's weak voice interrupted. "Easy. She's just young. Let her rest if she's tired."

Miguel slammed his teacup down on the saucer. The sound was loud enough to make everyone jump.

"When will we ever have a peaceful breakfast in this house?" His voice was cold and mocking. "Just once. That's all I ask."

Santiago turned to his son. "Miguel, please. Be nice. I've been married to Carmen for six months now. It's time you accept them as family."

Miguel's laugh was harsh. "Accept them? I don't owe them anything. Not kindness. Not acceptance. Nothing." He stood up, his chair scraping back. "The sooner they leave, the better for everyone."

"Miguel..." Santiago started, but a coughing fit cut him off.

Carmen immediately jumped up and rushed to his side. "Santiago, baby, don't worry. Don't upset yourself because of me. Your health is more important."

She rubbed his back while he coughed. The perfect concerned wife.

Inés wanted to throw up.

Miguel grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. He was done with this conversation. Done with all of them.

But then he stopped.

He turned and looked at Inés.

For the first time since she'd walked in, his eyes locked on hers. His gaze moved over her face slowly. Studying. Searching.

Inés's breath caught in her throat.

*Don't recognize me. Please don't recognize me.*

She looked down at her plate quickly. Her hands gripped her fork so tight her knuckles turned white.

The silence stretched out. One second. Two seconds. Three.

"I have business to attend to." Miguel's voice was flat. Then he was gone.

The front door slammed a moment later.

Santiago stood up slowly, one hand pressed to his chest. "I need to rest before the nurse arrives." He looked at Carmen. "Please make sure she knows to bring my new medication."

"Of course, darling." Carmen's voice was all sweetness now. "You go rest. I'll handle everything."

Santiago shuffled out of the dining room. His footsteps were slow and heavy on the marble floor.

The moment he was gone, Carmen's face changed. All the sweetness disappeared. She turned to Inés with cold, hard eyes.

"Don't you dare ruin this for me." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut like a knife.

Inés looked up at her mother. "Ruin what? Your meal ticket?"

"Watch your mouth." Carmen leaned across the table. "I am this close to becoming a very wealthy widow. Do you understand? This close. And I cannot afford any slip-ups."

"Slip-ups are your specialty, Mother." Inés stood up, her chair scraping back. "You slip up, and I'm the one who has to clean up your mess. Just like always."

"You ungrateful little..."

"I'm going to my room." Inés walked toward the door.

"Don't forget to remit this week's payment," Carmen hissed. "Or did you forget about our friends from the old neighborhood?"

Inés stopped. Her back was to her mother, but she could feel Carmen's eyes burning into her.

"How much did you make last night at that club?" Carmen's voice was sickly sweet again. "Enough to keep them happy for another week?"

Inés's hands clenched into fists.

"That's what I thought." Carmen laughed softly. "So maybe you should be thanking me. I got us into this house. You got yourself that job. We're both doing what we have to do to get Nacho off our back. Don't act like you're better than me."

Inés didn't answer. She couldn't. Because her mother was right. She walked out of the dining room and up the stairs to her room. She closed the door and locked it.

Then she pulled out her phone.

Three new messages.

The first was from Uncle Clifford: 

[Your boyfriend from last night called. Booked you for tonight. Same time. Big tipper! Don't be late, baby girl.]

The second was from an unknown number. Just a photo of her mother's car in the driveway of the mansion. And a message below it: 

[Nice upgrade. Payment due Friday. Don't make us come get it.]

The third message made her blood run cold.

It was from Miguel's number. She didn't even know he had her number.

We need to talk. My office. 3 PM. Don't be late.