Page 122 of Privilege

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. Maybe he shouldn’t have encouraged her, or provoked her. Clearly, his mother wasn’t in a good place, all things considered.

Carmen’s gaze darted to the side—to the doorway.

At Diego.

“You love him so much, don’t you?” she said, almost tauntingly. “More than me. More than her. More than the world, Ren. You always have. You give him everything, and you have nothing. What if I took him away, huh? What would you do then?”

He didn’t have a reason to fear what his mother said. How was this mess of a woman—this addict, abuser, bitch—ever going to take Diego from him? Legally, she really couldn’t unless she got clean, sober, and took care of her life and business. That was never going to happen.

Still, even though her threat felt entirely empty, he couldn’t help but react to his greatest fear being thrown in his face. It wrapped around his heart like a fist clenching tight. It felt like ice water being dumped into his veins.

Someone could take Diego away from him.

And what would he be able to do?

“You could try,” Renzo forced himself to say, “but no one will take him from me, ever.”

Carmen smiled—bitter, cold, and rotten. Most of her teeth were gone now, and her mouth was a disgusting mixture of black and red and yellow. “But I could, Ren. I’ve got your hands on my throat. I know what you do for a living. I know where you keep your gun. I know all the things to say to make them take him from you, and give him to someone else. I’ll do it.”

She wasn’t wrong, he realized.

How much would it take for someone looking into Renzo to realize he wasn’t on the up and up? If Child Protective Services came for him, he’d be fucked. Not because Diego wasn’t loved and cared for. Not because he went without—he never did, not with Renzo. But simply because Renzo’s life wasn’t really better than his mother’s at the end of the day.

No high school education.

No job on record.

A drug dealer.

Shitty apartment.

One thing after the other …

It would pile right up.

“Yeah, you know,” Carmen said, all too gleeful.

In reaction to his mother, and very little else, Renzo’s grip around her throat tightened so that the bitch couldn’t speak anymore. He didn’t want to hear her tell him the truth. That he wasn’t good enough. That no matter what, he would never be good enough for Diego in the eyes of others.

That to them, he would be just like her.

“Hey, hey!”

Clapping hands and the shouts brought Renzo out of his daze. He was two fucking seconds away from snapping Carmen’s neck right then and there with Lucia, Diego, and fucking God to watch him do it. But the sound of his landlord shouting at him was enough to hold him back for a second.

“Let her go, Renzo!”

He did, and Carmen took that chance to dart away from her son while still holding onto her throat all the while. She stumbled down the hallway, thankfully, in the opposite direction of where Diego was now clinging to Lucia’s legs against the wall. Had she gone anywhere near his little brother in those moments, he wouldn’t have been able to control himself.

Renzo turned to the landlord, ready to apologize. The man didn’t look like he wanted any of it, and his next words only confirmed that thought.

“I have had enough of this shit! All the disturbances, and complaints,” the man spat, shaking his beefy head. “She shows up here, makes a mess, and I tried to overlook it. I tried, Ren. I know you’re fucking young, and doing the best you can, but I just can’t be having this anymore. You’re to be out of here by the end of the month. Do you get me? The end of the month!”

Renzo felt numb.

Like he was watching himself from up above.

Dead inside.