Page 30 of The Right Garza
“If everything’s so perfect, then why were you there for so long?”
He coughs. “Just to, uh, oversee and…you know.”
“Pussy,” I say, shaking my head. “Pussy got you, didn’t it?”
He laughs. “If you saw her, you’d have stayed until you got every last drop, too. Saweeet!”
“You’d be so easy to kill, brother,” I say through a low chuckle. “So easy.”
He shrugs, unrepentant. “Well, everyone’s got their weakness. Mine’s women. And yours is…” He trails off and clucks his tongue. “…well, same, but singular.Awoman. A spicy little Latina who chose the older brother.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
He laughs at me, hard. “And you thinkI’measy to bait.”
“Home or office?” I ask through gritted teeth, sick of him already.
“Hom—wait, don’t we have a zoom meeting with Tor at two?”
“Shit. Yeah. Forgot about that.”
He flips his phone idly in his hands. “So, guess who called me asking for money.”
“Who?”
His glare penetrates the side of my face, but I keep my attention on the road. “You fuckingknowwho. Because the only time she ever gets the gall to call me is whenyougive her cash and let her think the door is open.”
Fuck. He wasn’t supposed to find out, but I should have known. Give Annette and inch, she takes a mile. “I didn’t give her cash directly. I gave it to the bank. She was gonna lose her club. I just paid a couple months on the mortgage to help her out.”
“Yeah, it’s always something with her. Always coming with her hand out,” he spits. “Well, guess what, she’s never getting a dime of my hard-earned money. So tell her tostopdamn well calling me. Your heart might still be open to her but mine’s sealed fucking shut.”
Our memories of our early childhood years with our biological mother aren’t good ones. They’re filled with angry shouts, painful, punitive pinches on the arms, deliberate neglect, and zero affection. Even at three years old, we could feel her hate and resentment toward us.
Our uncle Roberto Castellos would come take us with him much of the time to play with our cousins, and I can remember him always shouting in her face so hard his veins would bulge. Once, though we were barely five at the time, I remember him finding pinch marks on True’s arm and became so enraged he pointed—what I now know was—a gun at her head. I remember her clasping her hands as if in prayer with tears streaming down her face.
Our favorite memories from that period of time were when we came to L.A. to spend the weekends with our father and his wife. Monica was everything Annette wasn’t. She hugged us, spoke to us with soft, kind words, and smiled at us with love.
She loved us so much she made us her own.
True’s not a hateful person, nor an asshole like I am. Between the two of us, he’s everyone’s favorite. But his hate and resentment for Annette Darling is severe. Lethal. He wants nothing at all to do with the woman. And I can’t blame him.
While a part of me does still resent Annette for her horrible treatment of us, her own flesh and blood, another part of me still harbors an inherent…somethingfor her. Not love. Asomethingthat makes me give in and help her whenever she asks for it.
There’s no forgiveness in True’s heart where she is concerned, but because I know he will regret it later in life, I’ve chosen to forgive her for the both of us.
~
We arrive atour office downtown in twenty minutes. On the outside, it’s a plain, nondescript, unadorned edifice hidden amongst showy and contemporary architecture. On the inside though,Red Cage Investigations and Private Securitygoes all out on things that matter. We make sure our employees are comfortable and have every tool and tech gadget needed to get the job done effectively and with minimal hiccups. We are the leading private investigation firm for a reason.
Our first-floor receptionist, Katy, sits up with a stricken expression and a tight smile when she sees me approaching. As True comes in behind me, her forced smile morphs into a wide, sincere grin. “Welcome back, Mr. Garza.”
That’s how it is around here. I’m the “mean” one, and True’s the “nice” one. And even though we’re identical down to the T, they easily and unerringly tell us apart from just our demeanors.
Can’t blame them. I’m a crabby motherfucker half the time and I don’t smile unless I’m around people who makes me want to smile. Trueman, on the other hand, is full of charisma and charm. He smiles and he winks, and he doles out compliments and encouragement like licorice. And when I piss people off, he cleans it up.
Suffice it to say, he’s the favored boss around here, because Torin is even worse than I am, and Tripp hates being in the office so he’s never here unless he has to be.
As True moves to the desk and starts chatting up Katy, I head for the elevator. He’ll stop and chat to everyone on the way up and I’m not in that kind of mood right now. We have three floors, four departments, and about forty in-office employees, so yeah, he’ll be a while.
