40. Wyn
Wyn
Rico
Your parents are dead .
Up here w Turk now . I’ll swing thru soon
DONT COME UP HERE
Te amo mi nieve
Why that couldn’t have been a phone call, I don’t know. Maybe because he would have been too giddy to play it off like he’s not the one who did this.
The whole morning, I’ve been conflicted. Ever since waking up to that message. No tears. No aching sadness at now being an orphan. But no joy either. No relief, what I thought I would feel.
Nothing beyond the usual fatigue and minor pain from having brain surgery.
Pilar helps me to the living room once I’m dressed. The blinds are pulled, drenching the space in natural light. We sit at the window, eating yogurt bowls and look out into Downtown, into other units with their curtains pulled, then out farther, to the harbor and the ocean.
“Are you okay?” she asks, taking my half-eaten bowl from me.
I lean back onto the side of my couch and shrug. “I don’t know. Does that make me a bad daughter?”
“Not if they were bad parents.” She sets both bowls aside and then scoots toward me.
Resting her head on one of her knees, she regards me curiously.
“Your grief is your own, Wynter Snow. There’s no right or wrong thing to feel or way to feel it.
It’s okay to mourn bad parents, just like it’s okay to feel relief that they’re gone. ”
“Are your parents still alive?”
“Evil doesn’t die, so I’m sure Big Mary and whoever had the displeasure of tasting her pussy are still alive and well. But if they aren’t, then the world keeps going.”
“Yeah,” I breathe. My body gears up for a headache, though nothing comes. The headaches are gone, like the seizures.
“How…” I start, before the words fizzle. How deep can I get with her? Would Rico be mad?
But then again, she’s Pooh’s girl. She’s not green.
Licking my lips, I continue. “How would you feel if Pooh was the one who killed them?”
Her lips pull. Long eyelashes flutter as she holds my gaze.
“Are you blushing?!” I accuse, before she erupts into giggles.
“I’m sorry, that’s just so romantic. I’d never sic him on anyone from my past, but if he took the time to find them and avenge me, I probably would get down on my knees… you think Rico–”
“I know it was him,” I sigh. “As soon as my mom started up in front of him, I knew they wouldn’t be making it to next year. I’m so angry at him, Pilar. I could have just cut them off. Death is so… permanent.”
“But haven’t you cut them off before, Wyn?
How long would that last? You have such a big heart, always putting others before yourself.
I had to snatch your phone last week when I heard your mammy calling herself disrespecting you.
These Alvarez men are a little unorthodox with their methods, but I think you’re better off. And I think you know that.”
Yeah, that’s the problem, I think to myself.
My elevator chimes, and angry slaps of sandals on my floor tell me it’s my lovely sister. Pilar turns, but I reach out and grab her hand. She starts to help me stand.
Auty stops a few feet from us, eyes bloodshot, tear stains on her cheeks. I’m not even standing all the way when she begins to go in.
“They’re dead, Wyn. Someone killed them.”
Once I’m standing, I glance at Pilar, who takes the hint. She mumbles something about a smoke break and slips out of my apartment, leaving just me and my sister.
“Hi, Auty. I’m fine. Now, who’s dead?”
“Don’t be funny, Wyn,” she spits, her foot tapping on the floors impatiently.
“Someone ran up in Mom and Daddy’s house, robbed and killed them.
” Saying the words out loud takes all her strength, because she plops down on my sofa, a gutwrenching sob shaking her shoulders.
“It’s not fair!” she cries, wailing louder.
I walk over to my white Steinway & Sons grand piano and take a seat on the bench.
My sister sits opposite of me, crying her little heart out, and for once, my hands don’t itch to comfort her.
My mouth doesn’t form any comforting words.
My heart doesn’t squeeze at the emotions leaking from my sister’s eyes.
My lip just curls as I fight to keep bile down my throat.
Auty gets herself together, but when her eyes search my face for something that isn’t there, anger promptly replaces her sadness.
“Why aren’t you upset?!” Her eyes stretch, and she’s out of her seat instantly, pointing a finger at me.
“You knew, didn’t you?! You know who did this!”
I rest my elbow on the piano and lean my head on my fist. “I found out this morning, Auty. Rico told me, and that he’s with Turkey at their house now.”
“He told me he was going to check on them, but he never mentioned it before…”
The countdown in my head goes off precisely when Auty connects the dots.
Her face scrunches up, with a vein popping out in her forehead.
“You!” she seethes. “You put them up to this!”
She takes a couple steps so that she’s in my personal space, looking down her nose at me.
“Back up, Auty.”
“No! How could you let him do this to us?”
My hand slaps against the cover of the keys and I lift myself up, making her stumble back.
“You and I both know, if they did do it, that neither one of us can make them do anything. See yourself out.”
She balks at my tone, but my energy is draining too fast for me to care. Regardless, I was never going to be as distraught as her when our parents finally kicked the bucket, but I’m definitely not going to dogpile on Turkey and Rico for doing what they felt they needed to for us.
“He doesn’t give a fuck about you!” she screams, halting my steps.
“He can’t! I told Turk not to harm them, so I know Rico did this. He killed our parents, Wynter!” She palms her head on either side as fresh tears pour down her cheeks.
Under normal circumstances, my Be gentle with Auty filter would kick in. But none of this shit is normal.
I’m sober.
I had brain surgery.
I’m back in love with Richard Alvarez.
And honestly…
“I don’t really care, Auty.”
A surprised sound rushes out of her lips. Her hands drop to her sides, palms slapping on her thighs.
“How could you say that? How could you?!”
My eyes roll all the way to the back of my head. “Auty, how many times do I have to tell you how fucked up Aaron and Amani Shaw did us?! Give it a rest, they didn’t even like you. He did us a favor.”
“Regardless, they gave us life!”
“That’s the only thing they did,” I say dryly. My fingers pat my incision, before my shoulders hunch. “I’m sorry for your loss, Auty. I’ll be mourning privately.”
“How can you take up for him?! Why are you okay with this?!” Her voice gets higher with each question, grating my ears.
But she’s not in a state to listen to me right now, so I turn again to walk away.
A cold hand grips my arm, yanking me back.
“Don’t walk away from me!” she shrieks. Her fingers squeeze around me, making me wince.
“You’re hurting me,” I whimper, clawing at them, but she won’t budge.
“You told him to do this, didn’t you?! How could you?! You know how much they mean to me!”
Her hand clamps down harder, slowly pulling me down.
“Let go,” I grit, but she just squeezes me harder.
With my free hand, I palm her face, pushing all the way back until she stumbles, finally letting go of me.
“Don’t you fucking put your hands on me!” I thunder, pushing her once more. “Are you crazy?!”
“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” Auty launches herself at me, her hands going to my neck as she pushes us all the way to my island.
She looks exactly what I just called her, tears coming down her face as she strangles me.
“Don’t fucking call me that! I’m not crazy!”
Blackness dots my vision, but I still see the gun press into the side of her face. It cocks, and we both freeze.
Something is murmured, before Auty finally lets me go. I sink to the floor in a violent fit of coughs, trying to force air down my raw throat. My lungs burn, but when tears clog my nose, I have to try harder to breathe through my mouth.
Blood roars in my ears, preventing me from hearing anything. She tried to kill me. We’re sisters. Sisters fight. Sisters argue. We’ve both said some pretty nasty things to each other, called each other more bitches than the average.
Turkey has had to hold her back. Even Shad, some months ago. But she’s never put her hands on me like this. She tried to kill me. Snuff me out right here in my own fucking house.
The tears are hot as they leak out of my eyes, no real path but downward. My whole face is covered in them, my throat now clogged with my nose. But it doesn’t soothe it, not by a longshot.
A hand barely touches my shoulder before I flinch away. My hands scratch at my chest, trying to get air into my lungs another way. Another hand grabs them both, its grip unrelenting.
“Breathe, Snow.”
It’s low, muffled, but it still registers. My body still responds, and immediately, air rushes into my lungs.
Our eyes meet only briefly, before mine flit to the gun hanging casually between his crouched legs. He squeezes my hands gently with his other hand, bringing my gaze back to his hooded eyes.
“Focus on me, bae. Keep breathing in and out.”
It feels like hours have passed before the last shudder passes through my shoulders, and my lungs feel somewhat okay.
But then my shoulders shudder for a new reason, and I throw myself into Rico’s arms and sob into his chest.
“She tried to kill me!” I wail, pushing my face into his hoodie, wishing I could melt into his skin.
His gun makes a heavy thud when it drops onto my floor. He stands slowly, bringing me with him until his arm loops around my legs, lifting me up.
Gently, he places me on my bed. I reach out for him, fisting his sweats, before he pushes those off his legs and climbs in behind me.
Instantly, I curl back into his chest. His arms band around me tight, his lips pressing soft kisses onto the top of my head.
“She tried to kill me,” I repeat, whimpering.
He holds me tighter, so tight I can barely move my arms to wrap around him.
“Please don’t kill her,” I mumble into his chest. He hears me though, his body shaking with subtle laughter.