“Reese, are you trying to get hit!” Jamie shouts, as a SUV honks its horn.
Stiff arms at my side, legs full of lead, I walk toward Flour, not looking back, not saying one word. Anger radiates off my body so it wouldn’t do walking through the front door. I believe Sandra had one last appointment this evening for a possible designer cake at a retirement party.
Friggen wintertime, the holiday rush is gone, and the wedding season rush isn’t swooping in fast enough.
As I'm entering the back entrance of Flour, the music is getting cranked up. Sublime’s Santeria has Maria, Luis and Sandra singing at the top of their lungs. The leggy blonde is in her element with a sweet, white residue on her cheek.
Jamie, who is not a fan in the least and has said the song gives him the creeps, stalks toward the radio panel as they’re sing-shouting about a "new forty-five." He slaps the off button. “I can’t stand this damn song,” he says.
The three of them stop belting out lyrics and look at the two of us. Their gazes zipping back and forth, sensing the argument between childhood best friends.
“Luis, my office please.” I turn on my heels, take a deep breath and bat my eyes to stave off more tears. Not tears from sorrow, when Jamie tried to bring up one of the worst days of my life—after Milo died. No, but tears from being the bearer of bad news.
As I walk, I take in the high-end appliances. Why not get rid of a Viking stainless steel refrigerator? God knows I actually googled the price of my make and model being resold. It would put a dent in my debt but where to place dairy products and other material that needs to be refrigerated. Yeah, I was frantic when considering that option.
“Qué pasa, Reesita?” Luis says the nickname he's given me. His dark eyes shade in concern for me. The sadness is written all over my face.
“Luis, you're being laid off until wedding season.”
“No, no, Reese, Reesita, I've got niños, Lara is pregnant.”
“I'm sorry,” my voice croaks.
“I'll deliver in my own car... I'll…” Luis places his hands atop his head, hooking his fingers together.
“When we... If we make it to April, you'll be hired back, Luis. Again I apologize.” I bite my lip, and step out of the office. I'd made the birthday cake for his oldest who'd just turned five. His wife has bore children each year since then, with a baby in the oven, Luis needs this job.
Sandra is calling my name as I head to the alleyway exit. Jamie’s lips are pursed; his only issue is why I truly shouldn’t fuck a cop. And it has nothing to do with Milo but everything to do with the two of us murdering a man… One of my mom’s boyfriends. She married assholes, but still had a taste for creeps. This one didn’t comprehend the meaning of STOP.
12
Evan
She's got big hair and an even bigger mouth. Too lippy for her own good. Isabella saunters exaggeratedly slow to the door of my apartment as I stand at the window.
Her exit is reluctant. “I'm leaving, Tino.”
I wave her off for calling me by that nickname.
She's giddy and smiley, while leisurely opening the door. “If I leave, I'm not coming back! That's a promise. Get what I’m sayin’?”
I chuckle under my breath and sip my scotch. Then I hear a very jealous response which is not from Isabella’s alter ego.
“Good. You should leave,” Reese says.
Isabella's long, model legs almost stumble as she turns around. She's good and fucking drunk. So there'll be scratches if need be, all the while donning a super tight, short Versace mini no less.
“Listen you little bi–”
“Okay, okay,” I hightail it across the room.
“Isabella Zaccaro, meet Reese Dunham.”
“Reese? Oh fuck, you're family!” The cuss is stifled as Isabella pulls Reese into a hug. I notice the embarrassment creep up Reese's face before she's drawn into my cousin’s bosoms. Clothing is like a bug repellent to Isabella. However, my cousin has saved me from having to sleep with a stalker-ish female more times than I can count.
Funny, I haven't bedded the same lady repeatedly since being in high school. The one I'm drawn to day and night just so happens to now be my stepsister.
“Look, I didn't mean anything by that, alright?” Isabella says in her strong accent. “Moved to the East Coast to be near the rest of the fam and I hardly see the friggen brat,” she says of me. “I'm territorial with the fam, and I thought you were just some broad. But you're the fucking family!” She's still holding Reese at arm’s length.
“Oh, it was my fault really. Bad day, so I’m testy for no reason,” Reese tries as Isabella drags her inside.
“Don't be a good for nothing brat, capiche?” Isabella gestures toward me. “You just heard Reese say she’s had a bad day. Get your sis a drink, be useful for once. Reese, he's not accustomed to having brothers or sisters. We gotta train em, eh?”
“Yeah,” Reese mumbles, gaze gliding over mine. I want to pull her into my arms, hold her close and tell her everything will be okay. No wait, why is she in the dumps? I want to beat the shit outta whoever has made her feel this way.
Since she doesn't decline the drink, I begin to the wet bar. I've been taking orders from my older, girl cousins since I was three. It's either comply or endure the wrath of their mouthpiece.
“You got any real siblings?” Isabella asks as they start for the couch.
“No,” Reese says. She mumbles her thanks for the double shot I've handed over.
“Well, look, I'm only in town for a while. I'm sure Uncle Tony's gonna have a party
