“Come on baby, I just need to talk to you. Alone.”
“Not happening,” Massimo replies for me. Without hesitation, he continues, “Say what you came here to say and get out. Sofia’s had a rough day and doesn’t need your bullshit.”
Jose shuffles his feet. Like prey sizing up his predator. He’s easily got six or seven inches on me, but Massimo has five or six on him. Although my ex loves a good street fight, he knows it will get me in trouble here and wouldn’t dare jeopardize the gravy train he still views me as. His dark eyes shift from my protector to me, throwing in an odd smile that sends chills over my skin. If I weren’t still holding onto his arm, I’d add more space between us.
“You know, baby. Times are tight, and I just need a little to hold me over. You know how it is for me. Not all of us work at fancy hospitals making bank.”
For his part, Massimo is silent. Observing and waiting on me. But I don’t have money to spare. I splurged this month by buying Paco a new dog bed and some toys. A cute new dog tag in the shape of a bone hangs from his collar.
“I don’t have any. Money has been tight for me too. I’m not getting as many double shifts right now.” I don’t know why I blurt all that out. It’s not his business. It’s no one’s business.
“You heard the lady. No money here, man. So hit the road.”
Massimo pulls away, forcing my hand to fall as he tries to shepherd my ex toward the door. He reluctantly obliges, stumbling over his feet while trying to look past the big protector bearing down on him.
“Sofia, come on. Don’t be like that. I know you send money home to your Mami. Just give me some of that,” he pleads, darting in and out of view until he’s forced off the path and into the greenery. Massimo is relentless in his mission to get him out of here. And for once, I like a man taking over. Handling something for me that I don’t want to handle.
“No, Jose. You need to find someone else to get money from. What about that puta you were fucking in my bed?” I raise my voice, then instantly regret it when Massimo twists his head in my direction. I’ve heard him mumbling into his phone when I let my native language slip. As if he’s trying to learn it. It’s obvious he knows that derogatory word.
“I didn’t?—”
“Leave, dude. You’re not getting any money out of her without coming through me.”
It’s his last threat.
Keeping his hands to his side and using his massive size to intimidate my ex to leave.
“This isn’t over, Sofia!”
Then it’s over. The garden is quiet. I fall with a sigh back into the bench. Adrenaline rages through my body, and my hands shake, but I’m safe. Massimo ensured I was. It immediately changes how I view him. He says it’s only sex, but maybe it’s more than that. Maybe he just doesn’t know how to voice it. Or maybe I’m suddenly hoping for things that I shouldn’t want. And probably that I don’t need.
“Now that he’s gone, tell me about your shitty marriage while we finish eating.”
CHAPTER 7
EMILIO
This sucks. Mas’s all getting laid and shit while I’m here with Helga, the Horrible. The traitor says they haven’t done anything yet. But I know that fucker has been making out with her. He admits to that. Smiling and then looking away. He’s at least bitten her fat ass. I’m convinced. It’s the first thing I’d do if I saw it naked. Bite it and separate those cheeks. Go to town like the fucking starved man I am. I’ve seen Mas jerking off when she leaves my room. He thinks I’m asleep. I’m not.
Not that I care, cuz I don’t. I’m just jealous that every time I jerk off, it pulls my stomach in. Moves my road rash and hurts like a bitch. But with Sofia around, Mas has been jerking constantly. I’m sick of seeing it. Like he’s fucking bragging or something.
He’s been driving her to and from work ever since that shit went down with her ex. Mas said he’s a shrimp. Skipping way too many leg days. Bro turned up out of nowhere, asking her for money. Worthless piece of shit. Mas put a stop to that. That was a couple of weeks ago now.
Since then, I moved to a regular room. My boys switch off seeing me between classes. Even our parents have chilled out. Only visiting every other day. No parking their asses in the chairs at the edge of my bed, like Mas has.
It’s cool.
He’s been keeping me entertained here. Hitting some workouts when no one’s hustling my ass off to tests or X-rays. We watch YouTube stunts together. Sometimes baseball. The Sox are getting their asses handed to them again. Their hitting sucks, and so many dudes are out injured, it’s no wonder Fenway Park has so many vacant seats right now. Even us die-hard fans are bailing.
Aside from that, we talked about my accident. Mas is still feeling guilty as hell, even if I’ve told him a thousand fucking times it’s not his fault. He’s too dumb or stubborn to believe me. And not that I regret riding my bike. The story is fucking legendary from the texts and calls blowing up my phone. I’m still waiting for the shit to go viral so I can be famous. Either way, I’ll have badass scars and stories to tell. And that dog I missed hitting lived to see another day.
Badass.
Plus, all the peeps coming to visit me. Mas said it’s one of the reasons I got moved out of the ICU. Too many visitors. Sofia said it’s ‘cuz I’m strong and being a good boy. Healing fast or something.
The tape rips, and I holler like she’s skinning me alive. Because she fucking is.
Fucking Helga the Horrible.
