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“I’ll take you.”
“You don’t need to do that on your day off. Really. I’ll just—”
“Not letting you and your sis go through this alone, Jaz. She’ll need someone to talk to afterwards. Someone who can relate.”
“Fine. Might need some muscle power to carry some of her stuff anyway.”
He groaned. “Me and my big mouth.”
With the late afternoon traffic, it took them almost an hour to drive over to Carmen’s.
“Sweet,” Tommie said, as he parked in Carmen’s front lawn. He took in the grand yard and white marble columns sporting the place.
“Don’t let the exterior fool you,” she warned him. “Trust me when I say, you’d be better off living in the Pussy Wagon.”
He snorted, but trailed after her; though, looking less impressed now.
They found the front door unlocked. When Jazzy gave it a gentle push, it opened wide. It immediately put her on edge.
“Guess she wants to leave as soon as possible, huh?” Tommie said.
“I hope that’s it.”
The entry hall and living room were abandoned. No Carmen to be seen.
“Would you mind looking into the attic? She said there was some stuff from Mom in there she wants to take with her.”
Jazzy looked for Carmen in the parlor and dining room first, but they were empty. Then she heard voices coming from the kitchen.
She rounded the corner and acid filled her mouth. Franco stood over her sister, who lay in a pile of blood on the kitchen floor.
“There’s no more loyalty left in this world. You think you can just leave me? I’ve bought you, slut. Paid good money for your virgin body. You can’t leave me. You will never leave me!”
Franco poured himself a drink as he kept his monologue going. There was a gun next to his hand on the counter.
Jazzy realized she had to tread really careful here.
“I take an earlier flight and what greets me in my own fucking home? My slut of a wife, packing her bags.”
Carmen’s eyes were closed and Jazzy didn’t believe her sister was even conscious.
Franco kept on mumbling as he took another glass. “The cold, barren slut actually believed she could leave me.”
Not barren. The baby. Oh, God, the baby!
Jazzy almost blurted out her sister’s condition, but decided against it. She was unsure what Franco would do if he found out that Carmen was pregnant. Maybe he would completely freak out and start shooting.
She jumped when he threw the whiskey glass against the wall, and it shattered into a thousand pieces.
She must have made a sound, because suddenly, Franco looked up. His eyes turned into slits when he saw her.
“Franco, please. Carmen’s bleeding. Let me call an ambulance.”
He huffed. “Why? I didn’t shoot her. I just broke her leg, so she can’t fucking walk away.”
“There’s a lot of blood, please.”
His brow furrowed. “Don’t know why she’s bleeding like that. She never did before.”