Page 103 of The Right Garza
After getting a drink of water from the fridge, I curl up on the couch with Trent’s phone. He’s never been discreet when unlocking his phone around me so I know his passcode.My birthday. Heck, maybe hewantedme to know it.
I unlock it and find a number of text messages on his screen. My eyes narrow as I search for women’s names, but the only one I find is Maggie’s.
Magnolia: So???? Did you get her?
Magnolia: I’m calling you! PICK UP
Magnolia: Please please tell me she’s okay.
Tripp:How’s she holding up?
True:How’s our girl doing? She handling everything okay?
My heart tightens in my chest. In this moment, I’m grateful to Trent for not telling my family what happened. I’d hate for them, especially Mama, to have been this worried about me.
I dial Maggie and she picks up with a screech, cussing Trent out.
“Maggie,” I say, cutting through her hysteria. “It’s me. It’s me. I’m fine.”
Silence. Then a stifled sob. “Oh my god. Lexi…I’ve been so worried.Oh my god.”
“It’s fine, honey. I’m back now. I’m safe.”
She sniffles. “Trent is an asshat. He would hardly tell me anything.”
“In his defense, it was a really…delicatesituation.”
“Are you hurt?”
“Not a scratch, I promise.”
More sniffles. “Oh, thank God.”
She goes on to tell me that, per Trent’s instructions, she’d texted Mama as me and told her I lost my phone and that I would call her in a couple of days when I got a new phone. Smart, because Mama is a video-caller, so no other lie would’ve worked.
She tells me she’d also canceled the housewarming party, citing inspection reasons, and that everything has been in limbo since.
As I don’t think it wise to share the truth of what happened, I give her a fake version of it. As far as she’s concerned, it was all a failed human trafficking attempt. Depending on how the Castellos dispose of bodies, she might hear about Ellie’s death at some point, but she doesn’t need to know it’s connected.
I make sure to stay on the phone until I hear laughter from her, because the idea of people being worried and in distress over me makes me uncomfortable.
After hanging up, I can’t help myself, I creep through Trent’s picture gallery, searching for boobs and nudes. But his gallery looks nothing like it had when I crept through his phone months ago. Now, it’s all me. Me and him. Me and Monica. Me and Tillie. Him and Tillie, or Monica, or his brothers. But mostly me…posed, candid, unaware, dressed, half-naked…
He’s all about me.
Feeling giddy, I press the phone to my chest, grinning to myself.
He’s mine.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
Suddenly, I have an appetite. A real one. Jumping up from the couch, I pad to the kitchen and set about doing something I haven’t done in a long time.
I cook.
~
I’ve just switchedoff the stove, humming along to praise and worship music spilling from the phone propped on the counter, when I turn and find a shirtless Trent watching me from the other side of the kitchen island. His gaze is cautious, as if trying to gauge my mood.
