Cinderfella ~A Modern Fairy Tale~

They say that Cinderella was blessed with her prince through her kindness and hard work and a little bit of magic. Well. The magic part's definitely not going to happen for me. Don't mistake me, I'm no Cinderella. But my prince is...


13. Chapter 13

Mamacita tried to stop me from eating breakfast and lunch for the week, but when she's never in the kitchen and the only other person answers to me, who's going to listen to her? Manuelito listens, eyes raptured.

"So did you get some?" He asks in Spanish, and mimics thrusting with his hips, eyes wide. He's younger, about sixteen, and crossed over from the Yucatan about a year ago. 

His parents were drug mules, and thats how they paid the coyote for his voyage, but the sacs that contained the cocaine burst inside them, poisoning their insides. The narcotraficantes cut them open to get the rest of the little sacs instead of taking them to the hospital. I roll my eyes. His Spanish is peppered with swears and foul language and rude gestures. Always.

"Manny, no. I don't do that. Didn't matter anyway."

"Why not, mano?" 

I grit my teeth. Thinking about it hurts.

"She betrayed me."

"Does that shit matter if the pussy sweet, man? Aw fuck, chingada, why would you give a piece of ass like that up anyway?" 

I glare at him, eyebrows furrowed, and he looks away.

"I'm just sayin', she got a nice culo. For a white chick. Not many girls got that kind of ass, " he mumbles, putting a soapy dish away.

My brow furrows again, but this time it's in confusion.

"Wait, how do you know what she looks like? You've never met her, Manny." 

Manny rolls his eyes.

"Fool, you two lovebirds were on the cover of US, the Spanish edition in Mamacita's room. It's also on the news, like non-stop. They say she…." He screws up his eyes, crinkling his face and nose trying to remember.

"Aw chingada, no puedo recorder las palabras. They were English. Mine isn't too good yet, you know?"

Curious, I prod him. 

"What did the news say?"

"Well, first thing first, they show a pretty picture of her and everything. Damn, why would you give up something like that? That girl is a beauty if I ever saw one. Plus she's rich and stuff. You could get some good cash and get outta this dump," he motions his hands towards the lavish kitchen with chandeliers from Spain, the imported tile from Italy, the dishwashers shipped gently from Germany.

He continues, "Then they say something like miss-, miss-"

"Missing?" I interject, freezing at the words.

"Yeah, that, whatever that means. Then they show a picture of you two at the party or something, man Mamacita was watching it and she said something about serving you right. Like if your ugly stepbrothers couldn't tap that ass, then neither could you or something or nothing."

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