His voice becomes thunderous. “This bitch shows up and you want me to leave?”
No one answers because from my palm, Scott’s phone starts going off. A glance at the screen tells me it’s him, calling from my phone. Thank goodness. I’m about to answer when the guy twirls around, swinging his arm. I look up to find myself staring down the barrel of a gun.
“Do not answer that.”
In the blink of an eye, disbelief becomes terror. My insides freeze, then liquefy, then freeze again. For long seconds the world around me disappears and there’s nothing but the horrible menace of the muzzle that’s little more than two feet from my face. Slowly, awareness trickles back in; I register the terrified faces of the others in the room, see their lips moving, see the guy turning to them though he keeps the gun trained on me. Then, for some reason, everyone re-focuses on me and I flinch sideways a half step.
The phone.
Though it sounds as if it’s coming from miles away, the phone in my hand is ringing again. It stops and the room collectively relaxes. But the reprieve is shattered almost immediately by it going off again.
“Shut it off!”
The rigid tension in his tone cuts me right down to the bone. I scramble to hit ignore and then manage to turn the volume down with my quaking fingers before Scott can call again.
“Ellie!” Like a shot, Rosa comes running, hurling herself at me.
No!
I fall to my knees and catch her, clutching her to me with all my might. “You came,” she breathes happily in my ear and then tries to pull back to see me, but I hold her tightly. “Just stay there,” I whisper and she tenses in my arms. She must realize that something is wrong. “Just stay there,” I repeat almost inaudibly as dismay ripples through the room. Even the Daniel guy hesitates as the gun pointed at us droops toward the floor.
“Daniel,” the man seated on the armrest of the sofa says quietly. “Put that away. This isn’t the time or the place.”
Daniel’s anger ignites again as he swings the weapon around to point it at the speaker, sparking titters of alarm. “You think your crack-whore sister’s brat changes anything?” he rages.
“Of course it does.”
“No, it doesn’t!” Daniel uses the gun for emphasis and one of the women lets out a clipped shriek.
“You need to think this through, Daniel,” the man continues in a surprisingly calm voice. “You don’t think he’ll start pulling in favors over something like this?”
I don’t understand what he means, but Daniel obviously does because once again the muzzle of the gun dips. My eyes dart to the still ajar front door.
“No,” Daniel says, shaking his head vehemently. “No. No one goes anywhere till we get this shit sorted.”
“Daniel, please,” one of the women pleads, the younger one. “There’s nothing to sort.”
This sets Daniel off on a long-winded rant about cheating whores and the meaning of loyalty while he paces, gesturing wildly with the gun. Every time death rounds on me and Rosa, I freeze, which is then followed by full-body tremors as soon as it moves on. The cycle is repeated multiple times. “Don’t listen,” I murmur to Rosa, smoothing her hair down. Against her back, Scott’s phone, still in my grip, has been vibrating almost non-stop. It both adds to and lessens my worry knowing that he must be coming.
My legs start to lose feeling, sitting like I am on my heels. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. It feels like tension is bleeding from my pores. Again, I glance at the door.
“I said no one’s going anywhere,” Daniel screams, and it takes a second to realize the reminder is directed at me. He stomps to the door and kicks it closed, making us all jump. I manage to keep Rosa’s back to the man, but she whimpers loudly and I worry that she’s noticed the gun. Hearing her, Daniel’s rage seems to waver, and I feel a surge of hope that he’s going to end this madness.
In the distance, I hear the faint wail of a siren and my attention jerks to the front window, wondering if it has anything to do with us. Daniel must wonder the same thing because his expression turns vicious.
“Did someone call the cops?!”
Silence . . . except for the ominous wail that’s edging closer, getting louder and louder as the seconds tick by.
“Son of a bitch!”
“Just go,” the man balanced on the armrest of the sofa suggests.
“God damn you! You were my best friend!”
I hold my breath as Daniel waves the gun around some more, unsure of what to do with the sound of that siren getting closer, piercing the air now, shrill and sharp.
“Dan. Go!” The supposedly traitorous best friend seems genuinely worried that Daniel is going to stick around for a standoff with the cops. And all I can think is Yes, Daniel! Go!
It’s the flashing of the blue and red lights in the front window that triggers him to make a bee-line for the back of the house. Exhausted, I slide over onto my butt and pull my legs out from under me, still keeping Rosa gripped in my arms. “He’s gone now,” I whisper softly. “We’re okay, he’s gone.”
Lolita rushes toward us. “Oh, Rosita, are you okay?” She tries to pull Rosa from my arms, but Rosa clings to me like a barnacle.
“No! I want Ellie.”
The shocked betrayal on the woman’s face would make me feel sorry for here if I weren’t so off balance right now. There’s no chance for reactions though as loud steps clomp up the porch. But it’s not the cops like I’m expecting. After a succinct rap to the door, it pushes open without anyone moving to open it.
Scott bursts in, his face tinged with the ungodly combination of panic and murder. Sweeping his gaze in a wide arc, he finds us on the floor.
“What. The fuck. Is going on?”
“Scotty,” Lolita breathes with alarm, standing as if she’s going to intercept him.
Brushing past her, he drops down beside us, and Rosa releases me to attach herself to her dad. “Calabacita,” he coos, stroking her back. “It’s all good now. I’m here.”
Without Rosa needing me, without her warm, reassuring weight, I feel myself begin to splinter, especially when Scott’s accusing eyes land on mine. Oh god, he thinks I’ve done something. The added strain magnifies my dismay tenfold, which must be noticeable because he frowns as he reaches for me, motioning me closer. Weak with relief, I tuck myself under his arm and rest my head on his shoulder next to Rosa’s arm while he squeezes us both tightly.
“Sweetness,” he murmurs, kissing the top of my head. “What happened? Why are the cops outside?”
I have no words for him though. My mind is a tangled mess.
With Rosa in his arms, he gets to his feet, pulling me up along with him. Noticing I’m unsteady on my feet, he puts his arm back around me. His presence is like a balm to my jagged nerves.
“What the hell happened?” he repeats.
Flinching, I push my nose farther into the crook of his neck, asking for a moment before I have to defend myself. His grip tightens on my hip in silent reassurance and I figure out he’s not talking to me when someone else answers.
“Listen, Scotty,” the male voice says. “Everyone’s fine, so . . .”
“Obviously, no one’s fine, Mateo,” he grinds out, telling me that his not knowing what’s going on is wrenching at the hold he has on his temper.