Page 112 of Shadowed Obsession

“Goddamn,” he exclaims. “Shewantsyou?” he asks with amusement in his tone, eyes flitting back and forth from the phone screen to me. “What’d you do? Hold her hostage?”

Something like that, I think.

“Deja la jodienda,” I huff.

“Since you fucked up, you think I have a chance?” he teases. “’Cause I know how to fight and wouldlovesome free Divin.”

“Fuck you.” I chuckle, taking a sip from the tumbler.

“Love you, too, man. You’d never beat me in a fight, though,” he quips.

“I can hold my own and would fight for her. It wouldn’t be the most ridiculous thing I’ve done.”

His eyes are saying, ”try me.”

I hold up a finger, taking another sip before I drag him into this story.

“I may have pretended to mug someone she was on a date with to scare him away and…I was armed.”

His eyes widen before he bursts into laughter, patting his chest and I join him, because it is wild and very unlike me.

“¿En serio?I thought I’dneversee the day you’d turn into alovesickidiot. You’re down bad, man.”

I confirm with a nod, saying, “More like alovefool, but it doesn’t matter now.

“Riveras don’t give up, and you considered armed robbery to get a man away from her,” he reminds me.

“I didn’t take his watch. I held it before I gave it back,” I muse, taking another sip.

He throws his head back and barks another laugh. “You’re gonna have to start from the beginning if I’m gonna help you devise a plan to win her back. I’ll tell you something about women. My wife lovedgroveling. Not that I fucked up often because I’m an angel, but she loved reading about it in her romance books,” he says with a smile. “So, whatever we come up with needs a groveling moment,” he adds with a knowing look.

“I don’t disagree with that. I’d do anything at this point.”

“One more thing, give me your phone,” he instructs.

“Why?” I ask with knitted brows.

“You willnotbe texting her while we’re getting fucked up and trying to fix this mess. If there’s anything you need to say to her, do it now.”

“That’s a good idea.”

I pick up my phone and send a nightly text to her, followed by a brief voice message of thecoquís.

Buenas noches, Deirdre.

I miss you.

“Alright,” I say, placing my phone in his hand for the evening. “Now, what I’m about to tell youneverleaves this table,” I tell him in a hushed tone, and we shake on it.

“It all started when she shot me,” I say, lifting up my shirt sleeve to show the grazed wound, and he stares, stunned. “Butlet me explain why it wasAbuela’sfault,” I joke, struggling to keep a straight face.

“I gotta hear this,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief.

45/

sometimes you gotta pop the trunk

Deirdre

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