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“Sweetheart, he wants you to mix your things with his. Put them in the middle of the staircase and that man wouldn’t care,” he says, tone gentle. Javier walks casually to my stack and picks up an old copy of Emma that’s been in my mom’s family for years. “Or better yet, why don’t I show you.”
“What’re you talking about?” My interest is piqued.
“Ten bucks says I can find the most out of place for it, and he’ll love it.”
“I want in on this.” Gina wipes her hands on the black slacks she’s wearing. “However, this needs to be ridiculous. Somewhere that’ll leave him scratching his head.”
“You’re both crazy.” I’m shaking my head, a giggle bursting through. “I’m in. Double or nothing.”
“Done. Now...” Javi scratches his jaw “...where to put this?”
“I’m leaving that up to you. Just make it good.”
“Or, you can both be neutral and let me?” Gina interjects, a wicked glint in her eyes. “Whatcha say?”
“Go for it.” Taking the book from him, I hand it over. She walks away and toward his office, leaving me with the perfect opening to address my concern. “Javi?
“I know.”
“Something isn’t right.”
“You have a good eye.” He bumps his shoulder with mine. “Don’t doubt yourself. If someone gives you the creeps, nine times out of ten, they are one. An off chance isn’t worth the risk of your safety.”
“Does Malcolm know?” Because I don’t see him letting someone untrustworthy work for him.
“He does. Trust us.”
Since last night I’ve been feeling off. As if I’m missing something—forgetting something important—and this morning at eight a.m. it finally hit me.
Mom died five years ago today. Taken from me by some asshole that only cared about the money she had inside her wallet that night, his next high, or God knows what, because to this day, he still hasn’t been found.
Not a single trace. No one cares to look.
One minute she’s here, and the next gone.
Moreover, that night I lost my entire family.
Dad hates me, and Alton no longer pretends to see me as a little sister.
At sixteen, I became an orphan. I was lost and desperate until just recently when Malcolm came into my life. And while a part of me mourns Mom all over again today, the larger part of me just misses him. Today, I just need him.
He’s been in my life for such a short period of time, and maybe the rest of the world will think I’m insane for moving in with him, but deep down it feels right. Like I belong here.
“Are we stopping for flowers,” Gina asks the closer to the cemetery we get. I’ve been quiet. Lost in my head as I try to fight the guilt for being more torn up by his absence than this anniversary.
Maybe it’s because of how many years have passed.
Maybe it’s because I don’t want to spend the day alone like all the years prior.
Looking out the window, I shake my head. “I always pay for year-round service. The cemetery puts fresh flowers in my name, because I never knew when they’d allow me to come and do so.”
For a second, I feel her eyes on me. Hear the sadness in her tone. “Is there anything you need from me? For me to do?”
Not unless you can magically make him appear.
“Just drive down to the end of this road and turn left. The second row after is where the family’s mausoleum is.” The cemetery is almost empty when we arrive around mid-morning on Tuesday, most people coming to see their loved ones over the weekend. It’s an old and very large park, accommodating the affluential and rich. Those that can afford large buildings to house the final destination of the entire family.
Funny, it also serves to show me a cold, hard truth I’ve been neglecting up until this very moment. The women of my family are the providers. First Mom, and then I took up the slack when they didn’t lift a finger to cook a single meal, and then there’s the odd jobs to help pay bills.
