*** NEW AND IMPROVED ***
With her father missing, Shay will do anything to get him back, even if that means teaming up with a cruel gang leader and his band of psychotic men.
CHARACTER VIEWS DO NOT REPRESENT MY OWN.
***WARNING*** OFFENSIVE CON...
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SO COLD
Sunday marked the four-month anniversary of the day my father shot my grandmother. It was a bleak day with a drizzle of rain early in the morning and more to come as predicted by the weatherman at seven fifteen. I showered, shaved, moisturised, and straightened my hair to tie up in a high ponytail. I sifted through my wardrobe, pushing the clothe hangers across the bar, searching for something suitable to wear to church. I settled on a basic white t-shirt dress with short sleeves, and at the last minute pulled out a denim jacket that was a few sizes too big. I dressed, careful not to get foundation marks on the V-neck.
I closed my bedroom door after me and thought of knocking on Seth's door until I heard his alarm blaring and left him to it. I found uncle Isiah in the kitchen, leaning against the countertop by the sink, furrowed brow over a half-empty cup of black coffee. No sugar. No milk. Bitter. "Morning," I greeted, opening the door to the fridge and pulling out a box of sliced summer fruits. "How are you feeling?"
"Good." He was a handsome man. Dark-skinned with streaks of grey and freshly shaved. Weariness weighed down on his slouched shoulders, and lines remained on his forehead. He straightened to his full height, taking a heavy sip of coffee and setting it down. "Is Seth awake?"
"Heard him getting up. Should be down soon."
He nodded. "We'll leave at ten thirty. Excuse me." He left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.
I pulled out a drawer and took out a gleaming silver fork and sat at the breakfast table. There was a vase of sunflowers and a jug of milk and orange juice set on the table. I peeled back the wrapper to the box of fruits and unlocked my phone simultaneously. I sent a good morning text to Cole to see if he was awake and my phone rang a minute later. I kept my voice low. "Hey,"
In the background there was a burst of Spanish. Cebrián, no doubt. "Shay," Cole started and was interrupted. He became aggravated quickly, barking in his mother's tongue. "¿Cuántas veces debo decirte? Un policía corrupto no puede luchar contra todo el departamento, es arriesgado–" the phone call ended abruptly.
I raised my eyebrows, looking at my phone and then set it down, jabbing a piece of mango and biting into the sweetness. My phone vibrated three-something minutes later and I answered. "What was that about?"
"A conflict of opinions." The background was quieter now. I imagined he had moved away, probably out on the balcony in the drizzle, eyes on the grey city of commercial buildings and homes, rubbing a hand across his beard. He sighed, there was a sound of a chair being pulled back and he sat. "How is your family?"
"Good." I made a face as the tartness of a pineapple exploded in my mouth. "I don't know actually. I mean, Friday was good. I was happy to see them. Saturday was great. We went to a restaurant for dinner with Isiah's girlfriend. Their relationship is getting serious and she's lovely. Then I took Seth out to the fair. It comes 'round once a year and lasts all weekend and when we got back, I was beat which is why I didn't respond to your text messages. But now," I finished the last melon chunk, and swallowed and said, "I don't know. We're going to church to sit through the morning services and then visit grandma's, granddad's, and my mother's grave."
