The House of Wolfe Read Online Free PDF Page B

bar as the orchestra begins a jazzy number.
    Rayo Luna Wolfe emerges from the crowd along the near side of the dance floor, smiling as she heads toward Jessie with a green drink in hand. Jessie grins at her pixie-haired cousin’s brazen strut and the way she pretends not to be aware of all the attention she draws as she passes. Her clingy black minidress dispels all question of whether she’s wearing anything under it save maybe a thong.
    â€œHey, you sexy thing,” Rayo says in English. “I thought you’d be gone to that other shindig by now.”
    â€œPretty soon,” Jessie says. She gives a pointed look at the obvious jut of Rayo’s nipples against the dress. “And speaking of sexy things, it’s not that chilly in here, kiddo. What’s got them so worked up?”
    Rayo looks down at herself, then leans closer and says, “It’s this dress. They love the feel of silk. That and the looks I been getting from a certain dude.”
    â€œMore than one dude, sweetie, take my word for it.”
    â€œNo, mija, I mean a real stud. And you know what they say. Guys get horny at weddings.”
    â€œI thought that’s what they say about women.”
    â€œThat’s what guys say they say about women.”
    â€œWell it’s true enough of one woman I could name.”
    Rayo makes a face at her. “Actually, guys get horny if they’re awake. And you? I saw you and Aldo go waltzing off into that little jungle.”
    Jessie rolls her eyes. “Christ, he won’t quit.”
    â€œI been there, babe. Some guys, you do them in college, they think it gives them a lifetime ticket. So dickhead.”
    â€œWhat the hell is that?” Jessie asks, staring at Rayo’s green drink.
    â€œNot real sure. For a joke I asked the bar guy for absinthe. I mean who drinks absinthe, right? But the guy doesn’t bat an eye and pours me this.” She sips at it. “Yipes. I think it is absinthe.”
    Like much of the Mexican side of the Wolfe family—and most of the three hundred guests at this reception—Rayo is of mostly mestizo lineage, caramel skinned and black haired, a sharp contrast to Jessie, whose light red hair and cream complexion make her one of the fewer than three dozen racial standouts in attendance.
    When Jessie was asked to be a bridesmaid, she was told she could bring a guest of her own to the wedding, and she naturally chose Rayo, whom she’s known since they were both fifteen. Rayo was born and raised in Mexico City—like Jessie, an only child—and her mother had thought it a good idea for her to correspond with someone of their American kin in order to practice her English composition and maintain family ties, and she had suggested Jessica Juliet because they were the same age. So Rayo wrote to Jessie in English, who responded in Spanish to say she was happy to get her letter and liked the idea of being pen pals in each other’s main language. They began swapping photos and descriptions of life in Brownsville and in Mexico City and were soon sharing confidences about family, school, personal aspirations, and of course boys. When Jessie invited Rayo to come visit the following summer, Rayo asked her parents, they said yes, and it was a memorable ten weeks. Jessie introduced her to friends and took her to raucous parties. They went sailing on the Gulf, rode horses, swam in resacas. They sometimes spent the day with her Uncle Charlie at Wolfe Landing, target shooting at the Republic Arms range. They had both been taught to shoot when they were kids, and Jessie was a good marksman, but Rayo was a deadeye and won most of their contests with both handgun and rifle. The girls shared favorite books and watched videos of favorite movies, talked and talked about boys and sex, subjects that at the same time fascinated them and induced howls of laughter. They’d each acquired an early confidence with boys but Rayo was the