Attraction, desire, and sinfully beautiful, Mika Santana is a devil with the face of an angel. Despite her tragic past, she's never given up her ruthless pursuits for success and vengeance which leaves little to no room for matters of the heart. But...
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The metallic stripper pole on the stage is vacant, covered in the dark wine red tints reflecting from the lights. Jazz music plays through the speakers, altering the atmosphere into the eighteen hundreds. Foggy mist drifting in the air from the burning cigs, hookah, and chatter amongst drinkers. It didn't take long for Diablo's Paraiso to become a favorite place of mine, mainly since my girlfriend works here.
My heart blooms like a newly grown flower, poking out from the dirt to the sunlight for its very first time. My girlfriend. Wow! It feels like ever since we made things official, I've been experiencing my life in third person. Floating through life like a kit swaying in the direction of the winds. I think everyone has noticed the change in my behavior.
My fingers tremble against the scotch-filled tumbler, my leg shaking anxiously as I search through the crowd for my blue-eye beauty. Hidden between Mika's gift was a letter detailing an important question. It might've been too soon, but it's been weighing on my mind. Besides, once it's over with, then every gathering afterward would be peaceful.
It's been fifteen minutes since I've sat down at the bar waiting for Mika. I wonder what's taking her so long? She replied to my recent message, so she had to know about my arrival. Could she have messaged me about being a few minutes late? It's impossible to know unless I exit the club to gain reception.
A soft, silky frame looms over my shoulder, grabbing onto my blade as her other hand grabs a vodka shot. She downs it in one go and sucks on a piece of lime. Her nose scrunching, her face squirming with sourness as she shakes her head, her curly, raven hair jiggling. The red-hair girl is in an emerald bikini, the straps of her bathing suit crisscrossing over her breast.
Her red lips curve to a sly grin, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "You must be Muñeco. I heard a lot about you."
My cheeks fill with warmth. "R-really? From who?"
She grips her stomach, vibrating from the intensity of her laughter. The fellow on the stool beside me grabs his glass, drops a tip, and leaves to the dance floor. The girl takes the opportunity by sitting herself next to me and squeezes my shoulder.
"Mika. Who else, silly? Have you been flirting with other Angele's behind her back?"
Panic washes over my face. "No! No. Of course not. I wouldn't even think of jeopardizing my relationship with Mika. She's barely opening up as it is."
She bobs her head, shaking her shot at the bartender. "Yeah, Mika is like that. I've known her for five years and hardly know anything about her. I'm Tania, by the way."
Tania sticks out her hand, a fading flower henna tattoo on her knuckles. Her skin is darker in contrast to Mika's, her feet reaching the floor, unlike Mika's shorter length. Diablo's Paraiso supplies women and men like this on a silver platter, but no one compared to Mika. She's tainted my perception of women because I don't think I can look at another without wishing it was Mika.
