The capitol was an hour-long bus ride from her village in Las Nublinas. While her newly acquired company took a seat, Desdemona took a moment to use the bus’s bag phone to call her sister and let her know she’d be home late. 

“Do you have to see this band?” Gianna tended to forget Des was the older sister sometimes and fussed over her more like a mother would. She couldn’t help herself. It’d been just the two of them for about a year now. 

Of course she didn’t have to. “Please trust me on this, Gianna. I can handle it.” Des didn’t like the long pause that followed her appeal.  

A small sigh finally came through the static of the speaker. “I trust you. I don’t trust this man you’ve found. Don’t you think it’s a little strange he would go out of his way to do something like this for a stranger?”  

Des withheld a sarcastic click of her tongue. “Oh, without a doubt.”  

Gianna huffed with frustration. “Then why?”  

Des paused to think of a good enough answer but instead her eyes wondered towards the aisle where her companion was seated. He was looking out the window with this look in his eyes, like he was miles away. “I don’t think he’s a bad guy. He seems more gloomy than anything.” 

“Gloomy doesn’t mean harmless, Des.” Gianna was losing her patience.  

Des could tell by the bus driver’s third sideways glance that her time on the bag phone was running out. “Hermana, I’ll be alright. I promise.” 

The line was quiet for a moment. “You better be.” 

Hoping this was enough to satisfy her sister for now, she hung up the phone and paid the driver for the phone time before heading back to take a seat next to the man. The rest of the ride was spent in a comfortable silence. The two were content to watch the scenery go by outside the window. The tall pines and flamboyan trees that lined the old dirt road bent to a drowsy axis with the weight of the evening rain. As they drew closer to the city, the dense jungle began to taper and weave seamlessly with the skyscrapers and bustling roads of Mariluz. Day shifted to night and the glow of the sun was replaced by the dim blinking of what few stars could be seen past the manufactured cosmos of the city. Shop signs and food carts, motorbikes and cars speeding through traffic, flickering streetlights older than the people beneath them. All of it equally as captivating as it was dangerous, much like the island itself. It wasn’t until they were pulling into the station that she spoke. “My name is Des, by the way.” 

He tipped his head towards her. She could tell from his expression that he didn’t expect to exchange names. Nevertheless, he answered anyways. “Nico.”  

Once they got off, Des realized just how dark the sky had become. The pale light of the moon mingled with the vibrant glow of Mariluz’s skyline. Des looked down at her watch and noticed they had fifteen minutes until seven o’clock. Doors opened at eight. She looked over and saw an array of veteran food stands across the street; a grilled fish stand that had been on the same corner since she was eight, the stand with a crooked umbrella that served sweet bread and horchata, one that was known for the best bacalao in the city. Each one unique and manned by seasoned family units, madres with their daughters hard at work over vats of boiling oil or water and fresh ingredients.  

The strong, collective smell from all these carts nearly pulled a longing growl out of her stomach. “Are you hungry?”  

Nico hesitated before shaking his head. “You should eat though.” 

As they crossed the street, the alluring scent from the carts thickened. “Are you sure?” 

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed on something up ahead. She followed his gaze and noticed two men leaning against the wall near the cart, a subtle leer present as they watched another woman pass by. A familiar discomfort wriggled around inside her. Her breaths became short as her fears became concrete. When she looked up at Nico, his eyes were steady. She felt oddly reassured by his vigilance and did her best to keep calm. She settled on a cart serving sweet plantains and fried fish, choosing to focus on the welcoming smiles of the young girl and the madre operating the cart. She ordered something pre-made so they could leave quicker and did her best to keep her eyes forward as they departed, passing the men. 

Des didn’t even realize she had been holding her breath until they finally rounded the corner. “Thank you, Nico. I didn’t even notice them.”  

 His expression softened and he nodded. He had been mostly stoic since they met, so it was nice to see his face could change. He seemed more real.  

“Do you want any?” She offered him a piece of sweet plantain, but he shook his head.  

“No thanks.”  

As she finished her food, Des took the encounter as a reminder of her sister’s warning. She knew well enough to keep an eye on Nico but other more prominent dangers were camouflaged in the bustling liveliness of the city streets. The capitol was a far different jungle than the one she was accustomed to but there was at least the small comfort of the promise Nico had kept thus far. He had asked her to watch his back in return but it seemed a silly request to make when he already had such an intimidating air about him. Nevertheless, she’d hold up her end of their agreement as best she could.