Chapter 2: The Hunt
The sun was a brute, hammering the manicured lawn into submission. Laughter, mostly from the kids, ricocheted off the stone walls of the house. Matt stood in the shade of a frangipani tree, its sweet, heavy scent doing little to cut through the beer-and-adrenaline fog in his head. He watched Penny, her dark hair swinging in a ponytail as she helped a toddler turn over a ceramic pot, squealing in mock surprise at the plastic egg hidden beneath. Her joy was pure, uncomplicated. It felt like a physical distance between them.
His phone was a lead weight in his pocket. He hadn’t replied to the text. He hadn’t sent the money. For three days, he’d existed in a state of suspended animation, going through the motions at work, kissing Penny goodbye, all while his mind played a constant, grating loop of that kitchen conversation.
“You look like you’re solving world hunger over here.”
The voice, low and familiar, came from his right. Mary materialized from behind a sprawling bougainvillea, its magenta blooms violently bright. She held two sweating bottles of San Miguel. She offered one.
“Thanks,” he said, his fingers brushing hers as he took it. The contact was electric, deliberate.
“Penny’s in her element, huh?” Mary nodded toward her sister, a smile on her face that didn't reach her eyes. “The perfect little auntie. The perfect everything.”
“She is,” Matt said, the defense automatic but weak.
“Mhmm.” Mary took a long pull of her beer, her throat working. She was wearing a simple white tank dress, but the cut of it, the way the thin fabric clung to her damp skin in the heat, was a study in calculated provocation. “Thursday came and went. I was worried about you. Thought maybe you’d… forgotten.”
“I didn’t forget.”
“I know.” Her gaze slid over him, assessing. “You’re not a forgetter. You’re a thinker. An over-thinker. It’s written all over your face right now.”
She took a step closer, under the pretense of adjusting her sandal. The scent of her perfume—that dark, floral note—mixed with the smell of her sweat and the sun-warmed earth. It was primal, unsettling. “I lost an earring,” she said suddenly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “A diamond stud. Tita Celia’s. She’ll kill me. I think it came off back there, near the hibiscus.”
She didn’t wait for him to agree. She just turned and walked toward the dense, flowering hedge at the garden's secluded edge, her hips swaying with a rhythm that was absent from Penny’s cheerful bustle. After a heartbeat, his feet followed. It was like watching someone else’s legs move.
Behind the wall of red blooms, the world shrank. The laughter was muffled, the sun filtered to a dappled, intimate gloom. The air was still and thick.
“It has to be here somewhere,” Mary murmured, kneeling on the dry grass. She made a show of patting the ground, her movements exaggerated. The neckline of her dress gaped. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with a feigned innocence that was more obscene than any direct look. “Can you help me look? Your eyes are better.”
He stood frozen, the beer bottle cold in his hand. “Mary, this is—”
“What? We’re looking for an earring. For family.” She reached out, her hand closing around his bare calf. Her palm was hot. “Just get down here. Please.”
The ‘please’ did it. It was cracked, vulnerable. He knelt, the rough stone edge of a hidden garden bed biting into his knee. The space was too small. Their shoulders touched. He could see the fine hairs at her temple, damp with perspiration.
She shuffled on her knees, turning, and her thigh pressed flush against his. Her hand, ostensibly searching, trailed over the grass and then onto the fabric of his shorts, gripping the muscle of his thigh. “It’s so hard to see,” she breathed, her face close to his neck. Her breath was warm, smelling of beer and mint.
His own breath hitched. Every cell in his body was screaming, a riot of shame and want. He was hard. He knew she could feel it. This wasn’t an accident. This was a demolition.
“I don’t see any earring,” he managed, his voice strangled.
“Maybe it rolled…” She shifted again, her body leaning into his as she peered under the low branches of the hibiscus. Her chest pressed against his arm. She let out a little sigh, a sound of pure frustration that seemed to vibrate through him. “God, I’m so screwed. You have no idea. The people I owe… it’s not just money, Matt.”
She pulled back just enough to look at him. The bravado was gone, stripped away by the greenish shadows. In her eyes, he saw real, skittering fear. It was more compelling than any smirk. “I need that help. I’m begging you. And I’ll make it worth your while. I’m not like her. I won’t just take. I give back.”
Her hand was still on his thigh, her thumb making small, maddening circles on the inside of his leg. The world beyond the blossoms ceased to exist. There was only the hum of insects, the crush of his own pulse in his ears, the devastating heat of her touch, and the terrifying image of Penny’s trusting face.
He was going to fall. He could feel the ledge giving way under his feet. His principles, his love, they were abstract, distant things, muffled by the thick scent of flowers and desperation. His hand, acting on a will of its own, began to lift from his side.
“Matt? Ate Mary?”
Penny’s voice, clear and sweet as a bell, cut through the green silence from just a few feet away.
They jerked apart as if scalded. Mary’s expression smoothed over in an instant, the fear replaced by a placid mask. Matt scrambled to his feet, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped animal.
Penny peeked around the hibiscus, her face concerned. “There you are! We’re doing the adult hunt. Oh, did you lose something?”
“Earring,” Mary said, standing and brushing grass from her knees. She was the picture of mild annoyance. “Tita Celia’s. Can’t find it. We were just looking.”
Penny’s eyes moved from her sister to Matt. He felt transparent, guilty of every crime in the world. She smiled, that warm, open smile that now felt like a knife twist. “Well, come on! You’re missing the good stuff. Kuya Joe hid a bottle of wine in the big fountain. I need my champion.” She reached for Matt’s hand, her fingers lacing through his, cool and certain.
As she pulled him back into the blazing sun, away from the shadowy, perfumed trap, he looked back once. Mary stood amidst the red flowers, not searching, just watching them go. She brought her hand to her ear, and with a slow, deliberate motion, she removed the other diamond stud. She held it between her fingers, letting the sun catch it for a blinding second, before dropping it into the pocket of her dress.
She had never lost it at all.
In his pocket, his phone buzzed. Once. Twice. He didn’t need to look to know what it was. The transfer, initiated in a moment of blind panic the night before, had just gone through. The first payment. The first concrete step over the line.
Penny squeezed his hand, pulling him toward the laughter. “You okay? You’re all sweaty.”
“Yeah,” he said, the word ash in his mouth. “Just the heat.”