Sun in the South |• Southern Horror Series

18. The Hell Am I Seeing?

Agreed, the woman was beautiful, but that had nothing to do with why she kept interrupting Yvonne and Vasquez, or why Vasquez didn't look like he had any kind of grip on his emotions whenever he was around her.

Something was wrong. Yvonne knew she had to get to the bottom of it. But instead of stalking down to them, she looked for a spot to get herself busy. It was a pastry kiosk. Food was the last thing on her mind, but nothing beat using the stall as her vantage spot.

"One chicken pie, please," clearing her hair to the side, she made her order, eyes strictly on Vasquez.

Prestigiously striding down a small of the stadium, Vasquez hugged Sammie the instant they were in each other's faces. Sammie's hair almost fully covered her tense face, he carefully brushed the strands off to look deeply—passionately—into her eyes. He started talking to the worried looking woman, getting himself worried too.

"Here," said the woman in the kiosk to Yvonne, and that nearly erased the disdainful expression she had on. "Tasty pastry. Hope to see you again soon."

Yvonne flashed a forced smile. "Sure. Thank you." She took the small white nylon, asked for the price and made payment in cash. All these, she did with her hard gaze on Vasquez.

The stadium was abuzz with movements. Strolling away from the kiosk, she tried to stretch to get a clear glimpse of Sammie and her mayor when a voice resounded from her back.

"Worried already? Too soon in my opinion."

As fast as she could react, Yvonne turned to see who it was. The legendary Monica Ramon hit her fucking scrutiny. If Javier hadn't shown her a picture of this woman, and if she herself hadn't done a little stalking of her own, she might have looked bedazzled to see a woman with this sort of vogue wearing a shabby aura. She might have even cared to know why the woman was looking discouraged. 

All the coco Chanel, Louis Vuitton, Dolce & Gabbana she was wearing didn't match her attitude. People wore it worse and looked better because they held that welcoming gloss. This woman? She was the devil's incarnate.

Having known all there was to know about Monica Ramon, Yvonne put up her bitchiest semblance and folded her arms. "Excuse you."

"You'll know soon what it actually feels like to be in his life." That was Monica's comeback. "You'll get to visit your dream vacay destination, and you'll cry too. Loads of tears, honey." Her index finger and gaze synced and lifted to him. "That's one of the problems there—Samantha Ramon."

To believe the words of an ex-wife was foolish, but to trust the emotions of a man who'd read a book about manipulation was even more foolish. "Why are you telling me this? Oh, no, wrong question. Why are you being so nice? Rumor has it that you're Hydra as a result of your vice."

"Rumor is right. And of course"—she giggled scornfully—"I'd not dare to be nice to family, let alone a stranger. But what is wrong in saving you the drama of being fooled into believing love exists with that man?"

"Let that be my choice to make, okay?"

Monica laughed that laugh that simply said do as you please. She didn't need to but added, "Don't come crying foul to me, because God knows how bad I can puke at the sight of foolish women."

"You don't want to know how bad I can puke at the sight of nosy women. Thanks for the help that I won't be needing. Have a very nice evening."

Yvonne hesitated for her words to kick in. Once she saw that scowl on Monica's face, she looked away, looked at the stadium for a bit and went to find a spot to claim through the gyrating crowd.