Broken-Glass-Santina woke with a start as the day’s light hit hot on her closed lids. She stretched as she lay there, feeling the silk sheets against her skin. Her hands brushed on warm bodies and she looked; to one side lay a man, the other a woman. Images began flooding back to her. The party. The music. Laughter. Conversation. Moonshine. Dancing. Santina closed her eyes and smiled, reliving it all. What a fiesta loca that was, she thought to herself.

She slipped down to the end of the bed between her two sleeping bedmates. As her feet touched the thick carpeted rug, she let herself stretch again, almost on her toes with her hands reaching towards the sky. One of her men walked from the edge of the room, his hands outstretched with her satin robe. Neither of them were perturbed by her nakedness; everyone knew where they “stood” with each other. Santina walked over to him and languidly shrugged the garment on, loosely tying it about her waist. The bodyguard then produced a cigarette for her, Santina gratefully accepting as he proffered a lighter. Santina took a deep drag of her cigarette, nodding her thanks to the man. He disappeared back to the edges of the room.

Santina walked to her bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. Taking another drag, she then removed the cigarette from her mouth, balancing it on the edge of the sink. Running the faucet, she splashed some water on her face. With her face still dripping and her hands still damp, she raked her fingers through her silky dark hair and then on the back of her neck. Grabbing a hand towel draped on the edge of the sink, she wiped away the water from her face. Picking her cigarette back up, she took another drag as she glanced once again in the mirror. Satisfied, she traipsed out of the bathroom, heading to the door of her room without glancing at the slumbering couple on the bed.

As she reached the door, she paused, quietly saying, “Please see to it that these two are taken care of this morning.” The bodyguard grunted his reply, and Santina resumed her walk. She went towards the stairs, placing her hands on the banister as she oversaw the commotion in the foyer below. Men were working to clean up the remains of the party from the night before. Santina turned and headed down the stairs. As she made her way to her sitting room, scattered responses of “Good morning, ma’am” drifted over to her. She didn’t reply; rather, she made her way to one of her plush couches and sat down. She let her eyes go unfocused, not seeing the men bustling about. Instead, she saw glimpses of the previous night and she also saw many more things to come.