Chapter 37: Lunch with the Princess

I don't know what’s more surprising. Having lunch with Zelia or being driven around by her. The pink sports car flies down the road with the top down, the office buildings towering over us as we make it out of Downtown and into Brickell. Goodbye metal grates and homeless people. Hello valet and caviar. Apartments with sleek, glass balconies can be seen as we turn down a perfectly manufactured street. Not even the lines on the road have a chip of paint. As soon as we hopped in the car, Zelia mentioned the drive was too short for conversation. The pop-Spanish mix on the radio fills the silence as my mind spirals with questions.

Why didn't she have someone drive us? Probably because she doesn't want any witnesses when she kills me. We pull into the glittering roundabout of El Gato Negro, the hottest Spanish restaurant money can by in the south. Oh yeah, this definitely has to be a last meal kind of situation. Death is imminent.