Page 16 of Cartel King

Her eyes drop to my lips, but they dart back up to meet my gaze. Perhaps she is thinking the same thoughts I am right now.

I always sneak glances at her while we walk. I love her profile. But today I’m likely to fall over my feet because I can’t look away. It’s not just the t-shirt that’s different. Something’s off. Something’s bothering her, and I can tell. It’s why I want to hold her even more than usual.

“Did something happen today, Elodie?”

She stops while Constantine sprays his favorite tree. She hesitates for a fraction of a second before she shakes her head. I know I didn’t imagine her discomfort, even if the average person couldn’t notice. I’ve spent more than four decades drilling secrets out of people. I started young. I know every sign there is when someone’s hiding the truth.

“No. I was busy today, and I still have a few things left to get done.”

I step closer to her as we reach the bottom of the hill. I put my hand on her arm, and it’s the first time I’ve touched her since the lake the first time we rowed out together. As I turn us to face each other, I glance back toward the car parked on the street. I shouldn’t have stopped us so close to it, but I did.

“Ellie, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But I know something’s bothering you. If I can help, I will.”

She twists her arm, and I think she wants me to let go. But she rests her hand on my forearm, her thumb sweeping over it twice before she stops herself.

“Nothing’s wrong, but thank you. I appreciate the offer. It’s kind.”

I don’t slouch, but I straighten to my full height and lean in to whisper to her. “I told you, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want, but don’t lie to me,chiquita. I know when you are. Tell me you don’t want to talk about it. Tell me it’s none of my business. But if you lie, I’ll think you’re guarding yourself against me finding out something. It will only make me more determined to know if something’s wrong, if someone’s upset you. Do you want to change your answer?”

I step back, and I watch the cords in her neck strain as she swallows. She doesn’t appear frightened of me. Just the opposite. There’s curiosity and temptation to challenge me. She wants to know what I’ll do next. It’s not to pick an argument. Just the opposite.

I think she wants to challenge me, so she gets more of the same dominant personality I’m showing now. While she’s been easygoing so far, I didn’t get the feeling she’s submissive. That’s how I’ve liked to play in the past, but it’s not a requirement for me. It piques my curiosity even further. But I could be wrong.

“I had to talk to my ex-husband today, which isn’t something I do often. We lead incredibly separate lives, considering we only finalized the divorce eight months ago. But he needed to find some documents I left for him. He insisted they were nowhere to be found. I insisted on where they were, but he refused to believe me. He kept going on and on about how I lost them, or I put them somewhere to screw him over on purpose. It was way too long a conversation that didn’t make sense most of the time. In the end, I swapped it over to a video call and made him go through the stack of documents where I said they were. Lo and behold, that’s where he found them immediately. I know he didn’t look closely because he’s too lazy. And he’s too lazy because he still assumes I’ll do things for him. But that’s not my responsibility anymore.”

She pushes hair out of her eyes as the wind whips the wispy strands across her forehead. It tempts me to tuck them behind her ear.

“I don’t even have the documents to do what he needed, so it pissed him off to realize he’s got to take care of himself like a grown-ass adult. It pissed him off even more that I was right about where they were. It bruised his ego all the way around. And in the meantime, I had to listen to him go off on me about it. It tempted me to hang up. But I wanted this over and done with, and I knew it wouldn’t be until he found the paperwork. It was still just easier to bite my tongue like it has been for the past twenty-seven years. That put me in a foul mood. On top of that, I had a really frustrating call with someone I hired to take care of a couple of business matters.”

I turn toward the direction we were going, but I don’t move even when she takes a step forward. She looks back at me, her brow furrowed again.

“How did the conversation with your ex-husband end?”

She offers me a half-hearted smile. At least she doesn’t appear upset, which could be a well-practiced mask after many years of hiding a dysfunctional relationship. When she opens her mouth to respond, I step forward, and we continue our walk.

“The way it usually does. Neither of us saying goodbye. We stop talking, then we hang up. He can’t be bothered to greet me properly on a phone call. When I call, he’s answered with ‘yeah’ or ‘what’ for ages. Now that’s how I answer his call, which I know didn’t set the best tone from the get-go. But I simply don’t care about his feelings any longer. And because I don’t have to live with him, I don’t really care if he’s pissed off at me. So, the call ended the way it started. Neither one of us wanted to talk to the other. I’ve moved on.

“Do you think he’s going to do anything because you argued?”

“He can try. But there’s nothing he holds over my head. This house is mine. Paid for in cash with my half of the proceeds from the house we sold together. I’m self-employed, so he can’t interfere with an employer or put me in a position where I have to quit. I’m not financially reliant on him for anything. He can piss and moan all he wants, but he’s got no whipping boy—or rather whipping girl—anymore.”

“Do you think he’ll tell your boys about this?”

Her laugh is anything but humorous. “That would involve him reaching out to them, which he doesn’t do because he’s pissed they don’t reach out to him. He has never seen that as the first adult in the relationship, he should have led by example. He was disengaged for years, so the boys just don’t really factor him in too much anymore. They say they’re not bitter or anything like that. He’s just a non-entity in a lot of ways. He didn’t speak badly about me to them when they were kids. But if he were to call one of them or all three and bitch about me, they’d likely just let him ramble because his attitude toward me wouldn’t be anything new. It didn’t come as a shock to any of them when I filed for divorce. I was there for as long as I was for their sake. I waited to make sure all three were settled and on their feet. I know they’re all self-sufficient and fine. So now I’m on my own.”

She looks straight ahead and keeps walking. She doesn’t look down as though she’s ashamed or regretful. She doesn’t look away as though she’s embarrassed or avoiding anything. She merely looks like she’s accepted everything for what it is. And that saddens me for her. She’s shared enough of her personal life. More than she ever has, so I won’t press her any further about her day, but I’ll listen if she wants to say anything.

Even though it might’ve been easier if I’d asked about work rather than her private life, I appreciate what she’s shared. It’s given me insights I didn’t have. I get the feeling what she left unsaid about staying until her boys were on their feet was that she couldn’t afford to support them and herself. That seems contrary to what anyone would guess, considering the home she’s in. But she said she paid cash from the settlement.

Maybe he controlled her all those years. Or maybe she sacrificed a career in order to keep her family together. That story sounds far too familiar.

“Well, tomorrow brings a new day.”

I tried to sound optimistic, but I fear I sound phony. She looks over at me and grins. This time, she means the humor in it.

“Okay, Orphan Annie, the sun will come out tomorrow.”

“I suppose it will. And whatever else you have going on, tomorrow is another day.”

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