Tension digs into my shoulders like Angie is stepping on them with stilettos.
Figuratively, she is. Dropping Alma and Jackson into the mix was a surprise I didn't appreciate. Angie is clearly running the show, but if I'm her partner, if she wants my help, then she needs to include me. Not treat me like some cheap side-piece. I know it's hypocritical, given Richie Ass-Face Reddy is sitting underneath my mother's house. But that's beside the point.
The diner meetup could have gone very sideways, but at least Jackson has some sense and wants a solid plan before moving forward. I'm probably in the dog house because Angie hasn't contacted me in three days, but it's best we have space from each other. Her life is a murky swamp, and right now, I need the brightness of a damn supernova.
So, I'm thankful I still have the mundane normalcy of my day job. Especially when I get to spend it staring at Mindy. It's midweek, and she's here at the gym working out.
And sweaty.
I could lick the moisture off her. However, she seems a little distracted and keeps checking her phone. The Sisters know Richie is missing, which must mean Mindy knows too. Then again, the man is a gaslighting asshole, so he probably ghosts her all the time and then makes her feel like it's her fault.
"Are you working this weekend?" she asks, snapping me out of daydreaming about her spread eagle on my bed.
"Yeah. Friday and Saturday."
"But not Sunday."
"Not Sunday."
"Good." She smiles, and it lights up her hazel eyes like the damn sun bursting through clouds. "I'd like to invite you over for a little party I'm having."
A party? If she knew Richie was missing, I doubt she would be having one. So, I'm hoping this means I still have time to transport him to another location, kill him, and make it look like an accident.
"Just tell me when and where," I say.
"I'll text you the details later." Mindy's gaze lingers, her teeth biting ever so slightly on that bottom lip. "Will I see you in group therapy later?"
"Of course. You know it's my favorite place to be."
"Right," she giggles and spins away with her ponytail whipping behind her.
A smile lingers on my face as I admire her retreating backside, but then it dwindles as I remember I still have important plans to tackle. If I'm going to take control of things, I need to set up a meeting with Alma and Jackson so we can all get on the same page. I reach into my pocket for my phone to text Jackson, but it's already buzzing, and when I look at the screen, I groan. Nothing causes my balls to crawl back inside me like reading messages from Angie.
Angie: Hello, lover. We've got another meeting with the Sisters.
Me: When?
Angie: They haven't said yet, so it looks like we're on standby for confirmation.
Staring at the message, I can't help but rub the back of my neck as it accumulates an anxious sweat. The meeting could be to give us their blessing with Angie's plan, or they figured out I kidnapped Richie and want me dead. Whatever it is, it makes our situation all too real, and something tells me once the Sisters make a decision, there's no going back on it.
Me: Cool.
Except it's not fucking cool, and the gym just became ten times hotter. I wipe my forehead, and my hand comes away, sopping wet. Because let's be honest, how the hell do we plan to commit murder as a group and get away with it? This is why I need to take control instead of having loose-cannon-Angie running the show.
So, it's time to wake up the creature that lives deep within me officially. The one that chucks my moral compass into the ocean and uses the flicker of hell's firelight to guide me. It's a dark mental state to be in, and Richie has already tasted the venomous serpent that coils the honorable part of my brain. It's survival now, so I can't let psycho Angie blow this entire shit up with her hurricane way of creating disaster everywhere she goes.
She might give mind-blowing BJs, but it's not worth prison time. And it's as if she's reading my mind because my phone pings one after another.
Angie: I'm coming over later. I'm in the mood to have you cum in my mouth.
Angie: And then on my back.
Angie: Across my ass.
Angie: I want you to make a complete mess of me.
Angie: And then lick it off.
And just like that, I feel a chub growing in my track pants. All it took was picturing her mouth around my cock and me drenching her in my sin.
I'm such a mess.
Scratch that. She'll be a mess once I'm done with her, and she's seriously a mind reader because my phone pings.
Angie: I can't wait for all the dirty things we're about to do to each other.
And damn it, I shouldn't want this. Not from her. Not when Mindy, sweet and beautiful Mindy, is the deserving one. It's so hard to say no when Angie makes it so easy to say yes.
Me: All of that sounds amazing, but I can't tonight. I already have plans. Sorry. Maybe next time.
Before I change my mind, I hit send and then bang out a message to Jackson. Minutes pass as I wait for Angie to respond, but it never comes. However, Jackson replies, and by the time work is over, I have the wheels set in motion to take over the crazy train headed for Murderville.
∆∆∆
It's late in the evening, and the sky is clear, lending a perfect view to the starless canvas as hues of purple streak across fading sunbursts streaking the horizon. The window is open, with cacophonies from the neighborhood seeping into the living room where I'm chowing down on ramen, waiting for Jackson and Alma to arrive. I'm not sure why, but I'm nervous and have no idea what's happening on the Dateline episode I'm watching because I keep running through scenarios on how this meeting will pan out.
It's ten minutes later when Jackson finally knocks, announcing their arrival. When I open the door, he's holding Alma's hand, and they step into the apartment together. They haven't come right out and said it, but at this point, there's no denying they're a couple. And they make one hell of a gorgeous one, too, with Jackson being the strapping firefighter he is and Alma being a Latin-indigenous mix with straight black hair and soft yet sharp features emphasizing her heritage.
Maybe being a package deal will make things easier when I try to get them on my side.
Except, I sense opposition in the atmosphere as they silently cross the small expanse of hardwood floor to the living room. They didn't even greet me when they entered.
"So, we're here." Jackson slips his hands into his pockets, and Alma folds her arms.
"Thanks for coming."
"Well, it sounded urgent, and considering how we left things the other day..." Jackson replies.
"Which is what I want to talk about." I motion to the couch. "Please, take a seat."
"Wait." Alma holds up her hand. "We gotta wait for Angie."
"I didn't ask her to come."
"Uh..." Alma's brows furrow as she pulls the cell phone out of her pocket and checks the screen. "She said she's about ten minutes away."
"You asked her to come?"
"Yeah." Alma eyes me like I'm nuts. "Why wouldn't she be here?"
"Because I want to talk to the two of you alone."
"Jackson..." Alma turns to him. "I told you Miguel would be a problem, but you convinced me to come."
"Let's just hear what he has to say."
This stuns me. I've known Jackson and Alma for almost a year, yet they're behaving as if I'm someone they just met and can't trust. How many times has Jackson crashed on my couch after getting late-night drinks with the group? How often have we given each other advice after venting about our exes?
So why do I feel like an interloper in my friend group? Why does it feel like Angie has them hypnotized?
"Listen," I say and ease down onto the coffee table, motioning to the couch again. "What we're trying to do needs to be planned carefully, and I know you've become friends with Angie, but she should not be the one leading this thing."
"See, Jackson? I knew it!" Alma exclaims.
"Alma, really think about this," I continue. "What do we even know about Angie? She comes out of nowhere, and the first thing she asks me is to kill her ex-husband. That's not a normal thing to ask someone you've just met. Not to mention, she paid to have someone look into my background and then used it to force my hand."
The indignant expression on Alma's face softens, so I know my words are sinking in because if there's one thing she understands, it's having someone use information against you. After all, her ex did it to her so his parents could win custody of their kids while he's in prison. The legal system is completely fucked. But that's a worry for another day.
"Do we really want someone like that running the show? Someone who will use our tragedies against us?"
"He has a point." Jackson rubs the back of his bald head with a sigh. "But the thing is, Angie has resources. I don't know how she knows the people she knows, but we need them. Which means we need her."
"Not true. She's introduced me to her sources, and I think I can get them to trust me."
"I don't like this," Alma says, and her mouth has formed a tight line. "I don't like doing things behind people's backs, and Angie is my friend. She wouldn't do me dirty."
"How do you know? Again, what do we really know about her?"
"I know enough." Alma lifts her chin, staring me down."You wouldn't understand because you're not a woman, and you've never lost a child."
I suck in a breath because if my ex never had her abortions, I would be a father, and Alma wouldn't be able to use my fatherless state against me.
"No. You're right. I don't have kids, but that's because my ex had abortions behind my back."
"She did? You've never mentioned that in group therapy." Alma's brows furrow, but her expression has softened.
"It's true. I found out through Angie when she dug into my past. However, that's not the point because last I checked, Angie doesn't have kids either."
"She almost had kids..." Alma says softly, her eyes averting mine as if she's ashamed of revealing the secret. "She had three miscarriages. Each at different stages."
"The dates on her arm..." I recall from the other day.
"For each baby she lost." Alma finally sits on the couch, and Jackson does the same. "I'm not going to do this behind her back. She doesn't deserve that."
"I'm not saying we do this behind her back. I'm saying she's a loose cannon and shouldn't be the one leading us."
"She is a bit of a wild one," Jackson agrees.
"Exactly. And these people she's got us involved with aren't the type to play games. If we mess this up, I have zero doubts they'll let us take the fall so their hands can remain clean. This is why we have to be smart and come up with something solid to present to these... Sisters."
A knock at the door has us turning our attention to it, so I sigh and rise from the coffee table. I proceed to the door but give Jackson and Alma one last look before allowing the psychotic hurricane known as Angie to walk through. When she enters, she has the same stinky attitude the others had when they arrived, and she sizes me up with hands on her hips.
"You thought you could have a meeting without me, huh?"
"No, Angie, I did have one without you. Deal with it," I say and brush past her to step into the kitchen.
"So what, you think you're shot-caller now!?"
"Listen, Angie," I pause to pour myself water, letting the trickle fill the dramatic pause I'm creating. Her gaze burns a crater into my skull, but I don't care. "I've never been a man who stands by while someone else decides my fate."
"Yeah, no fucking shit!"
"If you want my cooperation, you'll have to relinquish control. Otherwise, I won't go any further with you. I'll figure shit out on my own."
"You already have!" Angie spins to face Jackson and Alma. "Did he tell you what he's done with Richie?"
"What has he done?" Alma glances from Angie to me.
"Yeah, what is Angie talking about?" Jackson stands and looks at me.
"Yea, tell them what you did because I'm dying to know." Angie places her hands on her hips.
"Richie is alive, in an undisclosed location, and in one piece. For now."
"What that hell does that mean, Miguel!" Alma skyrockets from the couch. "We're supposed to pin everything on him, but we can't do that if you're going behind our backs."
"Relax."
"No, I will not!"
"It's fine, Alma," Angie says. "Handsome doesn't have the balls to kill Richie or lead this group."
"Yes, I do." A sly grin tugs at the corners of my lips as I walk up to her and brush my mouth against her ear. "And you know what they taste like."
"Fuck you."
"Been there, done that." I sip my water, and her chest deflates with a long exhale as she seethes. But I continue. "We can still pin everything on Richie, but I don't feel confident moving forward with Angie leading things."
"No, you're right," Jackson says.
"Excuse me?" Angie's jaw drops as she glares at him. "What is this? An insurrection! I cannot believe the two of you would go against me."
"That's not what's happening," Jackson sighs and places his hand on Alma's knee. "We just need to work together as a team and make sure all of our concerns are heard. That's all. So I'm willing to hear Miguel out."
"You guys have some nerve. I'm the one who's been working my ass off getting things in order!" Angie points to herself. "I'm the one with the connections."
"We know that," Jackson agrees.
"But what, huh?" Angie shifts to Alma. "And you, why are you so quiet?"
"I don't think it's a bad idea for us to be on the same page and talk about things together." She shrugs.
"Which is all we're doing," I chime back in, and Angie's glare swings my way. "The burden can't fall on one person to steer the plan, which is why we need to figure out how to pin this all on Richie together."
"Ok, Handsome. I'll play along." Angie folds her arms in protest and plops herself on the couch. "Let's hear the big plan, Mr. I Need to Take Control."
"Glad you asked." I wink.
And take a seat on the coffee table to lay out my thoughts on how we can pin everything on Richie.