She was the only one of us that got to talk back to Jareth. I never knew why. Hell, no one could explain it. She wasn’t the second in line. She was only a few years older than me. So why did she get to talk back? Why did she get to make demands while the rest of us had to kowtow and bend to his will?
“It’s not the same,” Jazz said. “We didn’t leave her alone.”
“What are you talking about? I canhearyou, you know?” I whined.
I hated when they talked about it as if I wasn’t right there! As if I couldn’t hear every word they said. Why did they treat me like I wasn’t here?
“Who are you?” My sister asked, looking at Christopher Ambrose for the first time in complete and total disgust.
“I’m Christopher Ambrose, her sec–”
“Her security,” Jazz finished for him, as she eyed the guard with suspicion. “And where the hell were you when the shooting happened?”
My sister had one of the strongest Filipino accents imaginable. Not the cute, gentle kind. She got her mother’s Visayan voice. It was low, indelicate, and plosive. She never wanted to get rid of it. In fact, the longer she lived outside of the Philippines, the stronger it got. It’s like she wanted toforcepeople to understand her.
Between five different siblings, we had three different accents. That was why we belonged to no one, and nowhere, except each other.
If Chris was annoyed by her rudeness, he didn’t show it. He just straightened, looked at Jazz with a straight face and said, “Right beside her, ma’am.”
What was with that ma’am bullshit? I was pretty sure Jazz and I were both younger than him.
She looked down Christopher’s arm, to where blood trickled down the meaty side of his palm. He was bleeding, and I hadn’t noticed until now.
“Why are you bleeding?” Jazz asked, with a lift of her brow.
“I was grazed,” he said, nonchalantly.
“Chris…” I whispered, suddenly feeling like an ass. If I had seen that, maybe I wouldn’t have given him such a hard time. Or maybe I would have. I don’t know.
I wanted to get up and go to him, but Jareth’s arm was too heavy, and what was I going to do?Sorry you had to take a bullet for me, let me kiss it and make it better?
“I guess that makes you some kind of hero,” Jazz rolled her eyes, turning toward the office that was directly off the foyer. “Brian! Patch up the new guy.”
“Don’t yell at Brian that way!” I said, annoyed.
Brian didn’t come out, but the office was his domain. It was small, with a desk, but was really more of a supply room where he kept med kits and his personal belongings. There was a twin bed in case he needed to sleep here. I wondered why Brian got that office, while Chris had been told to sleep in Jomari’s room.
“Cops are coming, little sister,” Jazz said. “The police scanners picked it up, and they’re sending people here. Do we have a statement ready?”
“No,” Jareth wrapped his arm around me tighter. “We’re in the clear. Just answer honestly.”
“Is that really the best decision?” Jazz crossed her arms. “We don’t know if the shooting could be related to…”
“Jasmine!” Jareth chastised, his eyes pointing towards Christopher before turning back to my sister.
They liked to think that I didn’t know what they were talking about. But the truth was, we were all criminals. Maybe not Jomari… but I was. Which is why my songs were shit. I hadn’t earned it. Jareth was involved with God knows what. Jorik was a fighter, but what else did he do for us?
“I didn’t see anything, other than the gunshot,” Chris said, cutting into the tension of the room. “My job was to get Miss Jestiny into the car and to safety. I didn’t see anyone or anything.”
I didn’t know why he said that. But when Jareth nodded, and said, “That’s right,” I knew there was something going on that I didn’t understand.
“I’m just saying, it’s complicated,” Jazz sighed.
“Are you okay, Jes?” Jareth finally looked at me.
Did it hurt that it wasn’t thefirstquestion he asked? Yes. But that was our family. Business came first.
I nodded, keeping my mouth shut.