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When I pulled into the neighborhood, I turned the music down so I could focus. A minute later, I pulled up to a nice, two-story house. I frowned as I noticed the woman sitting beside a pile of suitcases and trash bags on the sidewalk. When she saw I had come to a stop, she stood slowly. I threw the car in park, climbed out, popped the trunk, and rounded the front to her. At first glance, she looked timid. Her face was beautiful, but aside from that, I could see the puffy red eyes and tear-stained cheeks.
“Ms. Sinclaire? My name is Callum. I’ll be your driver this evening.”
“Hi...” she said just above a whisper. Her voice was raspy like she’d been crying for hours.
I pointed to the pile. “Is all of this yours?”
“Yes.”
Asking that seemed to trigger her. She buried her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. I wasn’t sure what to do. Did I say something? Should I console her? I stepped forward and rested my hands on her shoulders to guide her to the car. No sooner than I opened the back door of the car did the front door of the house behind us open.
“You still here, Pasha?” a man asked angrily, stalking toward us.
I frowned. “She’s leaving.”
“Not fast enough.”
He started grabbing her suitcases and throwing them into my open trunk.
“I’m leaving, Raymond!” she pleaded helplessly. “Just let me go in peace. You’ve embarrassed me enough.”
“I told you thirty minutes.”
He came back for another suitcase, but I snatched it from him.
“I can put her things in my car. Why don’t you go back inside? That’s as nice as I’m going to ask you.”
He scoffed. “As nice as you’re going to ask me? You’re on my property giving demands?”
“It wasn’t a demand. It was a very wise suggestion.”
He poked my chest. “And what are you gonna do if I don’t comply with your little ‘suggestion’?”
I looked back at Ms. Sinclaire. “Get in the car, baby.”
She didn’t hesitate to climb into the backseat. I closed the door and turned to see this man standing right up to me.
“Sir... I suggest you back up. Allow me to get Ms. Sinclaire’s things, and we’ll be on our way. If you want her gone, why hinder the process? Make it make sense.”
He finally took a step back, glaring at me as he did. His gaze focused on the back window as I put the rest of her things in the trunk. Ms. Sinclaire was crying profusely at this point. This man had to be her husband or at least her boyfriend. Either way, he was a complete asshole, and I couldn’t get her away from him quick enough. As I moved to close the trunk, I saw her reaching for the door handle.
“Ms. Sinclaire, he’s not worth it,” I tried to reason.
“You better not get outta that car, Pasha,” he warned her.
She ignored both of our voices. She got out and walked around him and back toward the house.
“Pasha!” he yelled.
Again, she ignored him. Before I knew it, she’d picked up two bricks lining the walkway. She hurled one through the front window of the house and the other through the front window of the costly luxury car sitting in the driveway.
“Oh shit!” I grimaced as she picked up another brick and hurled it through the back window of that same car. At this point, the man I now knew as Raymond was yelling obscenities. He grabbed her, but she jerked away and slapped him.
“Fuck you, Raymond! I gave you eight years of my life! I was nothing but a good wife to you, and you did this to me. Rot in hell, you selfish son of a bitch!”
When a visibly pregnant woman came storming outside, putting two and two together didn’t take long. Things were about to take another left.
“You need to leave!” she screamed.
