MY CRUSH BANDIT

A dream wedding, a white and illuminated church, full seats, and television news cameras; I was the bride; I wore a white dress with rhinestones; it seemed strange that my groom did not arrive; perhaps it was a Sicilian custom; perhaps it was my freckles? I don't think so because my many suitors have praised them along with my honey-colored eyes, my brown hair, and my toned body. Although I am not very tall, I am not small either. I have come to the conclusion that I am a Colombian beauty, a bombshell, which means that I would not because I am ugly.

The orchestra of the moment kept playing their repertoire; they already felt forced. I calmed down, thinking that they wanted to avoid their most successful song, which talks about heartbreak. I felt that the bouquet was getting heavier, and the heels, those heels that I chose to try to surpass, wanting to eclipse him somehow, now charged rent to my feet.

Furthermore, I look at the door, wanting a whirlwind to come in and take me to Oz or somewhere; possibly this cretin had the same idea as me: run out Before the wedding, and if I execute it,

The priest looks at me in silence, like everyone else. Although I hear murmurs, I only see long faces and closed mouths. It already looks like a funeral. I don't know what to do. Perhaps if I drink the wine to consecrate it and start dancing in the holy water fountain, I will draw some smiles from the guests. That would be better than stopping my crying.

I can't believe I'm looking at the door; it looks like a painting by some surrealist painters. An elegant car arrives, comes fast, and suddenly breaks. I hope it's him; by God, it's him. I can't focus well; the tears in my eyes distort me. It's a man dressed in black. I feel like fainting.

As I regain consciousness, I see everyone around me, I look for the one who came in asking,

"Who came in? Is it Angelo?"

"It was me, Mrs. Ximena; I am Mr. Angelo's lawyer. I brought you some documents." He takes some documents out of a briefcase and says to me,

"These are the prenuptial agreements; I'm sorry I didn't square this before; also, a marriage certificate duly filled out; besides, he sends you a thousand apologies for not showing up for the marriage."

"No, this is unfair; what a lack of seriousness! Why are you doing this to me?" I exploded furiously, throwing the documents.

My parents hug me, trying to minimize my crying, while the lawyer angrily shouts,

"I'm not to blame; who knows what you would do? You must be bad for..."

"Shut your mouth, you piece of garbage; the poor girl is right; Angelo will listen to me." Don Joseph, the grandfather of the groom that everyone respected to a point of veneration, seemed to have magical powers because the face of the shoddy lawyer went from being red with exaltation to whitish with fear and he answered,

"A thousand pardons, I got carried away; the truth is, I am also very stressed with this matter; I don't understand Angelo's reasons for acting this way; I ask you to please excuse me; I am just another servant; I came prepared for this; and I brought more copies just in case."

I calmed down, and I read the papers that I took out with his trembling hands. The first paragraph says that if he were to die of unnatural causes, I would be detained while the guilty parties were determined, and if they did not appear, I would be the main suspect. In addition to having no right to any of the assets or compensation from Angelo or anyone related to him or his family,

"How rude!" I exclaimed, "I am not an opportunist, and even less a murderer!"

"Sorry, my lady; I repeat, I am only a humble servant," says the braggart, trembling.

The grandfather, Don Joseph, asks me to let him read them and exclaims,

"What's the meaning of this, that Angelo will hear me? Cancel everything!"

I feel some satisfaction; everyone will judge him; he was the one who stood me up, that little man, I put my face up; this is one more adversity, and since I was a little girl, I have defeated them. This is not going to be my Waterloo. I look at everyone; the contracted faces and diffuse looks darken the atmosphere. When I look at my parents, they don't deserve this. I have to give them the pride of marrying me on this day, as they expected. Besides all the other things at stake, in the end, what interests me the least about that gentleman is his filthy money; he can swallow it all if he wants, but I have better goals. That's why, in that instant before an outburst of madness or haughtiness, sponsored by revenge and hatred, I agree to sign, saying,

"Don Joseph, don't get upset; I will sign all those expletives. If there is a wedding, I have word and honor. I apologize to everyone present, and I will do my best to be your best hostess. Please turn the page. Let the joy come. It's a party. Besides, the people in charge of the party also eat, and surely they have already committed what they will earn serving the tables. Gentlemen of the orchestra, please play your song that sounds on all the radio stations."

I signed each paper without reading it much, since each sentence that I managed to grasp felt like a blow. That bear treated me worse than Cain. Each thing I will keep in a chest with which I will break his mother when I can, well, I will be careful not to eliminate him. I do not want to have to spend a few years of my life locked up in a prison for someone who is not worth it.

When I finish signing the agreements, Don Joseph comes up to me, grabs my elbows, and very affectionately comments:

"If you want, you know you have my blessing. I wish I were a few years younger. I would not hesitate for a second to take your hand. Please, let's go to the celebration. I would like you to let me accompany you in the car of the newlyweds. I do not want you to look strange alone, although I do not want people to whisper that I am an old cradle robber with a young grave robber. Sorry if I offend you."

"Not at all, Don Joseph; your presence honors me; it's a pity that Angelo didn't get anything similar to you."

"It is possible that he fell out of the cradle or was given a bad tooth when he was a baby."

We left laughing non-stop, snatching the space from the sadness; that wonderful man was an oasis in my desert of bitterness. When we arrived at the grand hacienda where the party would take place, the welcoming committee was perplexed, not because of my beauty but because, as Don Joseph predicted, they thought I was my sugar daddy. The party ran in relative calm; I happened to be the clown, and I had to paint a fake smile throughout the evening. Fortunately, I found a delicious Chilean drink, twice my age, which gave me comfort, and in my imagination, I prepared different reactions for when Angelo arrived.

In the end, it turned out that the wine ran out or finished with me, and the next thing I knew, I was being carried like a baby into a beautiful hotel suite, which seemed to have gold railings.

I woke up with a concert of drums in my head and an urgency that kicked me in the belly, threatening to shoot out of my throat. I got up, crawled to the bathroom, and vomited a lot. Furthermore, I make an effort to breathe while I make the oath of the dawn, "I do not drink again." When leaving the bathroom, I am surprised to see a hand offering me a glass and the other two pills, I look at his face, and the floor seems to collapse. It was him; the cowardly dog was there with me. It is possible that the floor opened up and a river of lava flowed out of it. Filling me with anger, I slap that glass, breaking it against the wall. "You are a bad man!" I shout at him and slap him in the face, and the very agile man stops it and answers me,

"Don't make things more difficult; they are already very complex."

I follow him, trying to hit him with the other hand, which also grabs me and hugs me. Maybe it was the drink I still had in my system, but I felt his smell, not his cologne, for a few seconds in paradise that minimized my rage.

"You're a cynic; you made me spend the shame of my life; I married alone," I tell him calmly, while his scent still tickles my larynx.

"I don't think you know what shame is," he tells me, the very cruel one. While I can see that in the mirror on the wall, we reflect on each other, and we see ourselves hugging as if we were the best couple. That's why they say that mirrors reflect the opposite.

"And you keep insulting me; you have no limits to your insults." I try to look him in the eyes, trying to decipher what's in his soul.

"You know the reasons for this farce; I tried to do my part as best I could." He tells me, pressing me against his being, where I can feel that athletic body, and I guess I feel his heat that ignites me like gunpowder. Unintentionally, I bit my lips and let out a sigh.

"At least you should have fulfilled them in the best possible way," I say, sticking to him and rubbing my body against him.

"It has been difficult, the truth is, I wasn't sure about this, and I didn't want to." I close his mouth with my lips, letting my impulses take me. Again, the cretin hurts me, pushing me away and running to the door, scared like a little child.

"Let's go; at least do your marital duties; let's make an effort to make this work; let's take advantage of this presidential suite and consummate our honeymoon." I tell him, panting, imagining that I am a beautiful actress in an adult film and the slimy guy answers me,

"I'm not ready, and frankly, I don't know if I will ever be. I think we should pretend appearances behind closed doors and, in our intimacy, be like mere acquaintances."

"There are acquaintances and friends who have relationships." I whisper to him while I undress softly, as I think it happens in those movies, only that when I take off my little panties that look like shoelaces, I get tangled, falling on my face to the floor. What a shame for pretending to be something I'm not. I feel his strong arms hug me again, placing me on the bed.

"Now it was," I thought, and again I ended up being deluded; he just tucked me in with the sheets. A cocktail of feelings floods me: a few drops of desire, a glass of shame, a few gulps of disappointment, and many bottles of pure anger.

"Then why did you come?" I am furious. Letting the tears escape that I tried to hold back, I wrapped myself in the sheets, tightening them, imagining that I hanged him.

"I didn't really plan to come; I didn't want to see you, only that my grandfather found me and used his persuasive powers; he almost incapacitated me; he made me carry you to the room; besides, he forced me to apologize to everyone, especially to your parents; how I hate them." said the miserable man, causing me to get up, and this time I slapped him in his bearded face. What an ugly beard! It's degenerate; it's unreal that with so much money he doesn't buy a shaver, or maybe he's fighting with his barber. I shout at him, trying to get out all my resentment.

"I forbid you to mess with my family; you are a coward, a liar, and I imagine you must even be weird since you don't want to fulfill your marital duties."

"I'm not like that; I have nothing against them; I just don't feel comfortable being with a person for whom I feel nothing, well, at least nothing good," said the jerk opening the door.

"Wait!" I yell at him, "did you bring me? Did something happen, or did we do it?"

"I would never be able to take advantage of a woman; I hate those who take advantage and degenerate, like your family, who took advantage of saving my grandfather's life; maybe it was all planned by them from the beginning," he answered me, gritting his teeth like a furious dog.

"I don't really want you to touch me; let's pretend to be a married couple; we wouldn't be the first, nor the last," I say, adding my evil look.

"Yes, that, but please don't play the long-suffering one with my grandfather," he says, making me want to caress and scratch him, I try to answer him, making me cry.

"I am not a sufferer; I don't need your compassion; you don't know all I have suffered; you are insensitive." The crying cuts my speech; he leaves; he leaves like a thief without making noise; he steals my calm; I cry bitterly; I imagine that the room is flooded with my tears; I try to keep myself sane by remembering the facts that led me to this dilemma, or the dilemma that led me to these facts.

Vague memories come to me, blurred and difficult to differentiate if they really happened or were a dream. The night I lost my real parents, the smell of gasoline and asphalt how we were rescued with my sister The panoramic glass is full of holes. My parents are sitting with their heads bent, motionless, and a drawing of a D with bones causes me terror. In the memory of the shareholders' meeting, taking control of my parent's jewelry company. And the lawyer reading the will, where another damned clause obliged me to marry an heir of Don Joseph in order to take control of those businesses, reminded me of my disgusting uncle. How he abused us and how his horrible wife, upon discovering it, did everything she could to cover it up. He called us liars in front of everyone, and his trickery put us in an orphanage, where we suffered even more misfortunes. These are memories that are not worth remembering-memories that maybe I will erase to become stronger. I remember cutting off my arm and swearing to the moon to take revenge on everyone, and now I sit here like an undaunted stone. Suddenly, my conscience is like lightning that falls, breaking that rock. My destiny is a triumph. I cannot minimize myself; I have to get ahead despite the difficulties. This is just another one of the bunch, and I will overcome it. Someday it will be but a single bed, a blurred memory that I will believe was a nightmare.

And so it was for three years that I lived harvesting bad memories in his private villa, pretending a dream marriage until the scorns became unbearable, the scorns intolerable. I even moved to a nearby apartment, but it was useless. I cannot stand this situation of being a wife of lies, although I almost do not see it. That's why I couldn't stand it, and at the family reunion, he didn't show up either. I asked his grandfather for a divorce, who almost gave him a heart attack because of his anger. I hope he forgives me. Furthermore, I appreciate him very much. In the end, among a thousand objections, he accepts my happiness. "Life is bliss," he finishes saying, and he sends a beautiful maid to notify Angelo of my decision to divorce him.

I stay crying in Don Joseph's arms in a moment that seems to be suspended in eternity; it is the end of a cycle and the beginning of my exciting life.

"What a crazy day; we have to close it at the opening party of the famous Liz's bar."

"Is that lady the daughter of the oilman Colmenares, the one who changes boyfriends more than pants?"

"Yes, I am very good friends with her, and not because of the money; she set up a bar to have a great time,"

"But Angelo, I promised his grandfather to take him straight home; he called me very worried, telling me that he dreamed that you were a mouse that was caught in a mousetrap."

"Those are old man's bullish; let's have fun; life is short, and even more so in this business."

"Sir, I distrust Macho and the bushes; they are strange; they have been hiding themselves all day long, and they get upset when I confront them."

"They know that if they betray me, they will disappear; I am not to be trifled with."

Confidence is mixed with arrogance, and he leaves, believing that in this city his enemies would not attack him. How wrong he was! Of course, sometimes bad things can happen for good things to happen, and yes, his men sold their positions to some enemies, not for money or power but for envy and resentment. Besides, a few days ago, Angelo almost killed them for exceeding the use of force to collect some debts; it was not their fault. That debtor had already gone to the nerve, and at the time of beating him, his son appeared trying to defend him, aggravated the situation by shouting, and they also had to hit the boy. Who stumbled and broke his neck, so they had to silence the father and throw dirt with the debt, in short, things of the mafia. The complicated thing was that this did not match her moral code, and they resented that he punished them for this accident by making them contact the rivals, revealing their movements.

"Let's go, Miguel; the night is young." They get into their beautiful car, one of those that no one can insult. The radio plays an accordion melody, and out of nowhere, a truck with screeching tires rams them. Angelo felt the blow to his head and a smell of smoke in the air. He looked around and everything was spinning; in fact, the car came out bouncing upside down, disoriented; some arms pulled them out of the vehicle; he felt choked; he concentrated on his nose, trying to breathe, forcing his lungs; he opened his mouth as if he were yawning, trying to get air to flow; he would have collapsed if it weren't for two men dragging him by the arms; he turned a little and saw the same thing happening to Miguel; he was dragged by two more.

"What have you done?" shouts a man with a familiar voice.

"Sir, we brought you here to check if you are really them; we don't want what happened to Kun-Fu to happen to us. He got confused." One of the thugs says it with a hoarse voice as if he were carrying phlegm.

"That's them; finish them off, leave no one with a head, and explode the vehicle; it's time for the sleeves of the vest to disappear," said the boss with a grim order.

"Wait, Max, it's you; I recognized you." Angelo interrupted him, saying, "How can you do this? We were friends; you worked for my family since you were a child; we grew up together, we were like brothers; you wanted to become independent, and I gave you half of the United States; isn't that enough? How much or what do you want?"

"My dear Angelo, this is not about money; it is not because I resent your family or you for how I was always treated as your pet. What happens is that I do not want to settle for only half of the United States; I want it all and what is left; Besides, I associate with other groups, and most of them want you and your lineage out."

In the distance is a woman in her car. She saw when the garbage truck hit the car. When she got out to help, she had to throw herself to the ground. When she saw a group of armed and well-dressed men, they got out of this truck.

"It can't be; it's the mafia," he thought. "How can I help them, but I hate the mafia; they're going to mow them down; what do I do? Virgin's enlightenment enlightens me."

"The police are here!" shouted one of the assassins nervously, releasing Miguel, who took the opportunity to pull out a pistol hidden in his armpit and shoot at one of his captors.

"Leave them alone!" shouted the desperate woman, revealing her location, and the thugs started shooting at her.

"Holy Virgin, what do I do?" She thought aloud for a moment as her life flashed before her eyes, and of course, she had already been in difficult situations-not like this one, but difficult ones. She crawled to the car, then squatted down, and finally ran, covering her ears with her hands, her hands trembling almost still due to the noise of the glass shattering from the projectiles. Likewise, she got into the car and crouched down as much as she could. Furthermore, she started it, the tires squealed like a small dog, and she started her escape, but that accident blocked the street. As a beam of light, she saw a small space between the garbage truck and the building, and she also knew she was not an expert in measuring distance.

Meanwhile, Angelo was able to free one arm. He searched in his pocket and only found his keys. He wielded them, throwing them towards one of his captors, imagining that he would poke him in the eye. That image changed when he heard the gnashing of teeth. He received in return a slap that sent him to the ground, something less than what happened to Miguel, who was shot several times right there. For a moment, it seemed that they were cooking popcorn because they also tried to shut up that mysterious busybody.