Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Lottie and Lupe follow suit.
“Has Dad called?” Lupe demands. “Do we know—”
“No and no to whatever you were gonna ask,” I say, walking the fruit bowl into the dining room and placing it on the table. “I haven’t talked to your father yet. He’ll call as soon as he can. The lawyer says the arraignment should be tomorrow. That’s all I know as of now.”
I’m on my way back to the kitchen when an unknown number flashes on my phone with a text.
Soledad, we need to talk.
It could be a reporter. A few have called the house line today.
Me: Who is this?
Unknown Caller: Judah Cross.
I pause by the counter, pressing the phone to my chest in case my daughters see me chatting with public enemy number one.
“Don’t touch that fruit bowl,” I admonish, speed walking down the hall to the powder room and dialing the number. “Be right back.”
I close the door and take a seat on the closed toilet.
“How did you get this number?” I hiss into the phone.
“Employee records,” Judah replies, his deep voice clear and calm. “You’re in Edward’s.”
“What do you want?”
“Like I said, we need to talk.”
“Then talk.”
“I’d prefer in person.”
“Well, I can’t leave my house, thanks to you.”
The silence following my biting words lengthens.
“If you think this is my fault,” he replies after a few moments, “we have more to discuss than I thought we did. I’m around the corner. I saw the news trucks out front. How should we do this?”
“You could come through the back, but I…” The girls’ muted conversation reaches me from the kitchen. “I don’t want my daughters to see you. There’s a shed behind the house. I’ll leave the back gate unlocked. Meet me in there.”
“See you in five.”
He disconnects, and I walk swiftly back to the kitchen.
“Hey, I’m going out to Daddy’s shed for a bit,” I tell them, keeping my face as straight as possible. “I need to look for something. Be right back.”
“Mom,” Inez says. “Do we have to go to school tomorrow?”
I pause on my way out and turn to assess the three of them. “Do you want to?”
Lupe’s gaze wanders to the dining room table, where the outside world is still wedged into the fruit bowl. “I have a history test, but I can make it up. I guess… I guess one more day won’t hurt.”
“I want to get back to the gym,” Lottie says. “But we can call Coach, right? Think he’ll understand?”
“I know he will,” I say. “Inez? What do you want to do?”
“I don’t want to hear them all lying about Dad,” she says, her mouth set into a mutinous line. “We don’t have anything to be ashamed of. It’s all a big misunderstanding. We didn’t do anything wrong, and neither did Daddy.”
I don’t address that because Edward hasn’t given me the ammunition to answer honestly or with any confidence.
“One more day, then,” I tell them. “We’ll let this die down, and I’m sure we’ll hear from your father by then with some answers.”
I start for the back door, calling over my shoulder, “Finish your lunch.”
I want to curl up under my duvet and sleep until this shit is figured out and I can get my life back, but curiosity and more than a little anger propel me to meet Judah at the shed out back. Once I’ve unlocked the fence, I slip into Edward’s domain. It’s been semiransacked. The agents didn’t leave it a complete mess, but apparently they searched hard for something. I have no idea what they may have found.
I straighten up some of the mess they left behind, pausing to study Edward’s most prized possession. A signed Larry Bird jersey. It hangs on the wall behind the couch, framed and under glass. Lola teased me when I first brought Edward home to meet my family.
“Not only is he a gringo,” she said, “but a Celtics fan? The fuck outta here. At least you coulda married a cool white guy.”
I slide my hands into the pockets of my jeans and find the pink grocery list wadded up, useless until I can figure out how to buy food. I always keep a little cash stashed upstairs, a legacy of a grandmother who didn’t trust banks. My abuela used to hide money in socks, boxes, mattresses. I’m not that bad, but there is enough cash to at least get food until our accounts are unfrozen, once I’m ready to brave the outside world.
If our accounts are unfrozen. I have no idea when that might be. I have no idea about a lot of things, and the uncertainty hangs over me like a guillotine.
Tossing the list onto Edward’s pool table, I prop my butt on the edge, waiting for the man who started this storm.
The door creaks open and Judah pokes his head inside. I forgot how handsome he is, his features arranged into striking sharp angles and blunt edges. Even in dark jeans, a sweatshirt, and some J’s, he’s impressive.