Page 44 of Sinful Little Lies

“Yeah, get inside quick before someone sees you.” She spits, grabbing my arm and yanking me into the house.

Stumbling into the foyer, I come face-to-face with a wall full of Leo. There’s more pictures of him than there are of Leila and her…fourth husband?

Looking out of the bay window, I see Grimm’s McLaren parked out front and my heart rate calms. He’s with me. I’m not alone anymore.

I’ll never be alone again.

Leila trots off to the kitchen and ushers me to follow. “So, what do you have there? You’ve always shown up empty-handed. Why bring food now?” She questions.

“I brought pasteles one Christmas, Leo said you tossed them after we left. Then there was that time I brought empanadas that you refused to eat because oil and tortillas weren’t part of your diet. I can keep going.” I offer but it’s clear she gets the point.

Sighing, she displays a smile of defeat and nods toward the dish in my hand. “What is it, Velma?”

My patience is thinning. This woman is going to end up in my next batch of empanadas if she doesn’t cut this shit out soon.

“It’s Verena, actually. I made lasagna for you. It was…Leo’s special recipe.” It physically pains me to speak positively about Leo, but I need her to believe that I wasn’t the one to take his life so I can leave this hell house and her in the past, once and for all. “He even let me in on his secret ingredient.”

She stares at me with empathetic eyes, “Lasagna was always his favorite.”

I offer no response and quietness blankets the room, the sound of a pin drop would be equivalent to a nuclear bomb.

“Alright.” Leila breaks the silence. “When did you last see Leo? It’s been about two weeks since I’ve heard from him and he missed our weekly lunch the other day with no phone call or text. What’s going on with you two?”

Game time. Bring out those puppy dog eyes and pouty lip.

My eyes begin to water on cue and I tell her everything about Leo’s abuse. She uncovers the lasagna and grabs a corner for herself. She heats it up and sits down at the small booth in the corner. I tell her when it started, how it escalated, and what happened the last time I saw him, alive and well that is.

She scoops up a spoonful and chomps it down. Bile rises in my throat at the thought of putting that lasagna anywhere near my mouth, but I just give her an innocent smile and continue. I showed her the burn on my hand that’s in the midst of healing. I repeated every vile comment I could recount. I told her he drugged me and locked me in his apartment. Then I told her that when he got back, he broke up with me and tossed me on the street like a bag full of trash.

Leila pauses after I finish and picks a chunk of meat from her teeth. She musters up all of the audacity in her fucking being to ask me something so outrageous, I fear I may just cook her into the empanadas tonight and tell Grimm we need to take a raincheck on this birthday dinner.

“What did you do to cause him to act out?” She questions, genuinely concerned for how I’ve been treating her son rather than the physical evidence I’ve just shown her that was left on me because he chose to throw temper tantrums instead of conversing with me like an adult. I didn’t need to explain myself any further.

“Wow. That’s my cue to leave.” I say, rising to my feet and walking out of the kitchen.

“Velma, wait!”

“My name is fucking Verena!” I yell, bumping into a side table and knocking down a vase. “Address me with the correct name or don’t fucking address me at all. I don’t know where the fuck your bitch-ass son is and I don’t fucking care anymore. He’s given me nothing but trouble and for the first time in years, I can be myself without him bitching in my ear about whatheprefers every two seconds.” Tears stream down my face, but they aren’t tears of pain. They’re tears of joy. I’m getting out of here and never looking back.

“If you don’t help me find him, I’ll go to the police. I’ll tell them it was you. You know we have friends in high places. It wouldn’t take a lot to get you convicted. You don’t have the same connections and safety that we do, you little bitch, and you know it!”

My heart just about falls out of my ass until I remember one small detail. My lips tip up into a sinister grin, “I have a friend too, Leila. Chief of Police, Greg Griswold. Are you familiar with him?”

Her eyes widen as I step closer to her until our noses are just inches apart. My voice lowers to an intimidating octave I’ve never spoken in before. “You tell them I had anything to do with Leo’s disappearance, and I will do everything in my power to make sure that I drain you of every asset, every dollar, and every fucking jewel you own.” Pointing to the vase, I continue my threat, “Clean that shit up and pray to every bruja you know, besides me that is, that your precious boy finally makes it home one day. If not on his own two legs, preferably in a silk-lined casket.”

Turning on my heel, I storm out the front door and back into Grimm’s McLaren. My chest rises and falls as I dab the tears from my face, careful not to smear my makeup.

“Everything okay?” Grimm asks, his eyes searching my body to confirm I’m not injured.

“Yeah, I’m good.” I turn to him and break out in a smile. A laugh follows shortly after. “She fucking ate the Leosagna. Let’s go before she runs out here to pester me about the secret ingredient.”

With that, Grimm speeds off down the road.

Time to meet the Griswolds.

27

GRIMM

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