Xiomara narrowed her eyes at Willem and folded her hands in her lap. Tears prickled the back of her eyes at the thought of getting fired, but she refused to let Willem see her cry. No matter what happened, she was not going down without a fight. Her family needed her now more than ever. If that meant she had to get down on her knees and beg, she would do just that. But not before she heard what Willem had to say.

"You heard something concerning about me?" She asked.

Willem took a deep breath and leaned forward. "Yes."

"Okay, go on."

"It's regarding your behavior-"

Xiomara cut him off. "I can't believe this. Omar is absolutely despicable – and a whiny little bitch. We had a good fuck, so what? And now he wants to get me fired for it? No balls, he has no balls that one."

The look on Willem's face registered shock and at least a thousand other expressions. "Miss Castillo, I'm going to have to ask you to take a deep breath. This meeting isn't about Omar, but what did you say about you two fucking?"

Holy dynamite. She just messed this one up big time. Like mammoth size big. "Nothing, absolutely nothing. We had a disagreement, that's all. Please forget everything I just said. I tend to foam at the mouth sometimes. I'm sorry. Proceed, please."

A frown with the similar characteristics of a thunderstorm planted itself on Willem's forehead. "As I was saying. It's regarding your behavior as a past employee of one of my hotels."

Oh, the bullshit never ended. "The Alcove Hotel? You really need to get rid of your manager there. Mr. Mozambique fired me without even listening to my half of the story."

Grey eyes traveled over her face in doubt. "Tell me your side of the story."

"What did they tell you?"

"I was told that you stole a rather expensive diamond bracelet from one of the suites when the occupants were out and about in the city. And when it was reported missing, you said that the gentleman had given it to you."

"He did! And I wouldn't call him a gentleman, far from it. He has a wife and he wanted me to go to bed with him."

Willem tapped his fingers on the desk with impatience. "Tell me what happened."

She fidgeted in her seat and took up the hem of her skirt between her thumb and index finger. "So, I was assigned to clean this particular suite. It wasn't the first time I had met Mr. Baker and his wife. They came in at least twice a year and they always booked the same suite. They had timeshare there or something. When the incident happened, I was going on three years working at the Alcove. The Bakers knew me by name. One afternoon Mr. Baker handed me a small box while his wife was downstairs in the spa. He told me it was a gift from him and his wife ... and bla bla bla about how great the service was and how they wanted to thank me. I politely declined, but he insisted."

"What happened then?"

"I took the bracelet home. He was always very flirty, but I never took him on. Married men don't interest me. On their last day there, he called up for a maid. So of course, I went. When I got there, he started groping me, touching me inappropriately. He said that I had to give him something in return for the bracelet. I fought him and ended up scratching his neck. If your manager had taken the time to listen to my story, he would have had proof of what happened in that room. All he wanted to know was whether I had the bracelet or not."

Willem sighed. "You do know accepting gifts directly from the guests is not allowed. All gifts left behind must go through the front desk where the guests have to sign a disclaimer agreement."

"So you're saying it's my fault?"

"I'm saying you should have known better. There's a clause in your contract about that."

"Of course. Am I fired?"

There was a moment of pregnant silence. Willem settled back in his chair and folded his arms as if he was debating whether the next coming of Jesus Christ was true or not. The pensive look on his face didn't reveal much. This could go either way. And if the events of her day so far were any indication, things were probably going south.

Willem leaned forward and interlocked his fingers on the desk with enough drama to rival a Shonda Rhimes production. "I just need to know if you can be trusted or not."

A blink was forthcoming. "I assure you, sir. You can trust me with your belongings and any private matters concerning you."

"Good. That's good." Willem looked pleased, and she took a deep breath because she hadn't realized that she had somehow stopped breathing. Or that her heart rate had gone up.

"Thank you so much for listening to me." She held off a sniff and smiled.

"You're welcome." He stood up and came around the desk. "You're not going to kiss me this time, are you?"

"No, sir."

"Just Willem. How is your sister doing? Esmeralda, right?"

"Yes. She's taking her medication like clockwork, but we're not seeing much improvement." Xiomara stood up when he pointed her toward the door.

"I would like to pay for her to see a specialist."

Her eyes opened wide in disbelief. "I can't ask you to do that, sir. But thank you for offering."

"The offer stands no matter what. Let me know if you change your mind." Willem smiled at her, dimples showing.

"I will."

"Have a good evening, Xiomara."

***

It was pretty much after seven when she got home. She had had to walk for fifteen minutes before reaching public transportation. After that, she walked another fifteen minutes to reach home after stopping at the supermarket for groceries. They lived pretty much in the ghetto, and buses didn't travel that route.

She pushed through the door with the peeling blue paint, her grocery bags in hand, and a cheerful cacophony of voices greeted her. Yup, she was home. The faint scent of cigarettes stained the air and the heat from inside the apartment warmed her cheeks. The entire family, except for Josh and Gianna, sat in different positions in the tiny living room - on the couch that sank in almost to the floor when one sat on it, and on the carpet where feet had worn out the material and cigarette burns had scorched holes into it.

"Hey, Xio!" Esmeralda squealed.

"Hey, big sis. What did you bring for us?" The triplets, Louis, Leandro, and Leon inquired.

"Gracias a dios, I was getting worried," her mother muttered.

"Hey guys, sorry, I got off late and then had to stop for groceries. Look, Esme, I got your favorite ice cream." A small tub of chocolate ice cream made its way to her little sister's lap. Xiomara bent over and kissed her on the forehead, reveling in the joy bouncing off Esmeralda's face. A smile was a rare thing from her lately. But God, she was skinny. She had lost so much weight from her last lung infection that had landed her in the hospital for a week, and it's been a struggle to regain the weight ever since.

"Hey, what about our favorite ice cream?" The triplets demanded, their voices almost perfectly synchronized.

"Coming right up." She handed each of the boys their separate ice cream, ruffling their curly hair as she went.

There were three more ice creams left. She picked out the vanilla one. "For you, mama."

The other three ice creams she stored in the freezer where the only other thing in there was a tray of ice cubes. The sight was depressing. She opened the grocery bag and added the four packages of sausage franks she had gotten with ten percent off. That should spruce things up a little, including the two cartons of milk and a large box of generic cornflakes.

"Thank you," her mother said. "I need a smoke, you coming?"

A moment later, they both stood outside on a concrete slab that they considered as their backyard. A plastic table and two chairs that had seen better days were the only furniture. There were no flowers like in Filo's garden. Just one measly looking tamarind tree and an overgrowth of tumbleweed.

The urge to smoke came upon her. It was always moments like these, out in the night air, the stars forming a blanket of diamonds up above, and her mother's beat-down face that usually sent her cravings into overdrive.

A few fumbles later and a lighter going off, she lifted the lung-cancer-causing, send-you-to-your-grave-early, cigarette to her lips. She didn't smoke regularly, but whenever her mother wanted to talk alone, there was no escaping the nicotine her brain so desperately craved. She didn't know if it was because somewhere, deep down inside, she blamed her mother for the way they were living.

"I thought you were trying to stop," her mother said, her peachy eyes looking at Xiomara through a cloud of smoke.

"I am. And you should too. The smoke isn't good for Esme's lungs."

Her mother sat down first, her thin body barely taking up space on the plastic chair. "I don't know how to thank you for helping out. You don't have to. They're my kids after all."

"What kind of daughter would I be if I left you here alone to rot? There's nothing I wouldn't do for you or my siblings. You're all I have." Xiomara took her mother's hand across the table and gave it a slight squeeze.

Yeah, she blamed the woman, but she didn't hate her. Not exactly. Besides the way they lived, Carolina was a good mom. She was attentive and kind. And would go without food or clothes to provide for her children. And that's one thing Xiomara respected about her.

When her mother spoke again, there were tears in her cigarette ragged voice. "Josh has been misbehaving. He was caught selling marijuana this afternoon."

"What?"

"I didn't want to worry you. I know you have enough on your plate with your new job and all. He's spending the night in jail. That's one less mouth to feed. They mentioned something about bail, but by then I'd already hung up. I swear these kids will send me to my grave early." Carolina reclined back in her seat and took a deep drag of her cigarette and sent a puff of smoke into the stale air.

"No, not the kids. The cigarettes will. Who did you speak to?"

Carolina laughed. "It doesn't matter, you're not bailing him out. Let him rot in there for all I care."

"We can't just leave him there. Those places aren't nice."

"Then he shouldn't have been selling that garbage drug. It's illegal here. He knows that. Why can't he find something meaningful to do? I'm telling you, Xio. Don't go having kids. They're not worth it." Another puff of smoke turned the sky misty white.

Xiomara flicked the ashes off her cigarette onto the concrete stoop. "I'm going to the police station. Where's Gianna? She can come with me."

"With her boyfriend."

"What boyfriend?" How in the world did she not know this? But, apparently, two weeks of working was enough to make her lose touch with everything going on with her family.

"An older guy who gives her money on the regular. His name is Francis."

Goodness gracious. "Are they having sex? Because another baby to take care of is the last thing we need."

Carolina shrugged. "I think so."

"And you're allowing this? She's a minor."

"We need the money," her mother stressed, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Wow. You're incredible. That's your daughter."

And just like that she was angry at her mom, who had all but pimped out her child for a few dollars. "You know what, I'm out of here. Talk to me when everything for you isn't about money." Xiomara stormed out of the backyard with her hands fisted at her side. She had had enough drama for one day.

Taking one last drag of the lung cancer stick, she threw it on the concrete floor and then crushed it with her heels. It was bail your brother out of jail time. And here she thought her day couldn't get any worse.

*****

Press that star ⭐️ , darling. I'm putting y'all to work.

Rihanna - Work ft Drake