Page 104 of Guarded

“Oh my god, are you okay?” I reach out a hand to help her up.

She pulls herself up, and her eyes widen in horror. When I turn to see what’s frightened her, I catch Preston looking at her with the same horrified expression.

The tension is brief, but I catch it all the same. Rosie takes off back into the house.

“Do you know her?” I ask Lord Fuck Face.

“Never met her.” He shrugs.

I capture his expression so I can retain it for later. This could be what hubby dearest looks like when he lies.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom.”

Excusing myself from the dance floor, I begin my quest to track down Rosie. Something doesn’t make sense. I’m almost to the large guest bathroom on the bottom floor, but instead of finding Rosie inside, Alma steps out.

“Ari.” She gasps

“Excuse me,” I say, moving past her to find Rosalinda.

“Hey, can we talk?” Alma asks from behind me.

When I turn to hear what she has to say, I see Genesis making her way from the courtyard. When she sees us, her scowl locks on Alma.

She pushes Alma into the wall and screams in her face.

No, really, she just screams, and it’s scary as hell.

“Leave my friend the fuck alone!” she threatens.

“I just wanted to talk to her.” Alma stammers.

“You and your ugly little friend want to call her prissy? She’s not prissy. She’s always,alwaysputting everyone before herself. So, think about that the next time you talk shit so publicly about her.”

“Gen. Let’s go,” I say, grabbing her arm, but she’s not done.

She yanks her arm from mine, then pulls a switchblade from her elegant updo. I didn’t realize a crowd was forming until I heard them gasp.

“Next time you fuck with my friend, it will be the last time you do anything,” Genesis says, holding the point of the blade to Alma’s chest.

Almas’s eyes widen in terror. I grab Genesis again just as Efren places himself in front of an emotionally distraught Alma.

“Back the fuck up.” He warns.

I pull a laughing Gen into the bathroom and lock the door.

“Gen, what are you doing?” I can smell the alcohol on her breath now that it’s just the two of us. She doesn’t stop laughing, even as her hand shakes around the knife. Methodically, I remove the switchblade from her hand and put it in my purse.

“Are you okay?”

It’s not the question I want to ask, but I can’t just blurt out, “Are you still taking your meds?” because that is the worst thing you can ask someone who needs meds and is in a state like this. I’ve never seen her this way.

Falling to her butt, Genesis sits on the floor. Her manic laughter was now full-blown tears.

“Gen. Talk to me. What’s wrong?” I plead.

She doesn’t answer, and our time is cut short.

“Abre la pinche puerta.” a voice sounds behind the door.

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