The Divorcee Murder Club

Sesenta Y Dos ~ 62

“I guess there’s only one way to find out.” I exit the bathroom.

“How?” Angie trails after me.

“I need Sammy. Maybe he can do an old-fashioned Mob interrogation.”

“But it’s Evan. I’m sure if you talk to him, he’ll tell you the truth.” 

“Yeah… maybe.” I pause while reaching into a dresser drawer for undies. I have no idea what to believe, and I’m starting to understand why Augusta has become paranoid about who she can trust. “There is one more thing I haven’t told you yet.”

Angie exhales a long breath and leans against the door frame, folding her arms. “Like what.”

“Earlier, I began telling you about an offer Augusta made me, but then we got distracted.”

“Well, I hope the distraction was worth it! Now hurry up and tell me what that ratchet woman offered.” 

“Protection.”

“What kind of protection, and in exchange for what?”

“She wants me to work for her. Be her eyes and ears. My first gig would be the gala, with a fifty-thousand dollar sign-on bonus.”

“Shit…” Angie’s expression drops, along with her shoulders. “That’s a lot of money.”

“Yeah.” I finally tug on a pair of boxer briefs, but Angie remains in the doorway, wrapped in the towel. “One thing she said is that we’re already exposed. The cartel knows who we are. There is no going back to a normal life, but under her wing, we’re untouchable.”

“We? She would extend this protection to me, too?”

“There is no way I would negotiate without us being a package deal.”

“Wait.” Angie pinches the bridge of her nose and then looks up at me. “You’re not considering this, right?”

“No...”

Although I did stay up all night mulling it over. What if Augusta could help Angie remove the conservatorship and regain her sister? Sure, Gwen offered to help, but she doesn’t have the power to sway a judge the way Augusta can. It might be worth it just for that. 

“Miguel!” Angie stomps her foot, and it’s kind of cute. 

“I mean, shouldn’t we at least weigh the pros and cons?” 

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

“She’s giving me a few days to decide.”

Angie’s expression turns deadly serious as she narrows her eyes at me. “It’s been decided. The answer is fuck no!” 

“You should put some clothes on before you catch a cold,” I mutter.

“That’s not how you catch a cold! And don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not.” I toss one of my shirts at her, and she snatches it out of the air.

“Yes, you are. We’re talking about something so serious I forgot I was standing here naked. Yet, you want to brush off the conversation because you’re concerned I’ll catch a cold.”

“Well, you might, and it’s pretty distracting seeing you naked. How can I think with your tits on display?”

“This is bullshit.” She throws her hands in the air. “You’re deflecting.” 

“Maybe.”

“We don’t need her or her help. Besides, we have Sammy. I know he’d help me if I ask.”